Because a Husband Is Forever

by Marie Ferrarella

  She hadn’t had to open a single door since he had come into her life. She supposed there were worse things to put up with. Her independence had never gone so far as to demand that she be allowed to push every door she came in contact with. “Other than the fact that I seemed to have developed an annoying growth on my side, yes.”

  He pressed for the elevator, then shoved his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry. It’ll be gone in less than two weeks.”

  “One can only hope.”

  She waited until they were wandering through the parking structure before she said anything further. “Look, Russell, it’s nothing personal—”

  “Being a bodyguard never is.” He vaguely moved his shoulders in a half shrug.

  Intrigued with what he’d just said, she forgot about her intended apology. “You mean you never get involved with your clients?”

  As they walked, Ian scanned the scene. For the most part, the area was deserted, with only a handful of cars parked on this level. “Other than to know their routines and be there to protect them, no.”

  She didn’t believe him. Dakota pushed the issue. “If you were my bodyguard, would you take a bullet for me?”

  “Yes.”

  He’d answered her without a second’s hesitation. It took a special man to agree to such sacrifice. “That’s pretty personal, wouldn’t you say?”

  “It’s my job.”

  As far as she was concerned, there was only one instance in which that was an acceptable part of a job description. And it didn’t apply to her. “I’m not the president.”

  “No, you’re someone who’s paying for protection,” he told her simply. Continuing to walk, they went down to the next level. “You deserve to get it.”

  She kept to the right as a car passed them, going deep into the bowels of the structure. “What about that woman who keeps calling you?” She glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Alexis, I think I heard you say.”

  There was no “think” about it. From a very young age, she had always been able to absorb what was going on around her like a dry sponge. The woman had called Ian three times in her presence. Dakota didn’t doubt that there had been more calls from the needy woman.

  “She has a few delusion problems.” Ian’s response was guarded.

  Was he like that with all his clients? she wondered. Dakota was curious to see if she could get him to open up, to register some kind of emotion. “Like thinking that her bodyguard is in love with her?”

  He spotted her vehicle and approached it. “I never gave her any cause to think that.”

  “How close did you get?” Testing the waters, or maybe herself, Dakota moved closer to him. She saw something flicker in his eyes and found herself enjoying it. She never pushed what her grandfather had once referred to as “womanly wiles,” but there was something about this tall, stoic centurion who’d temporarily been forced into her life that made her a little reckless. She wasn’t unaware of the attraction that hummed between them. Taking a deep breath, leaving less than a teardrop’s space between them, she asked, “This close?”

  She was in his space. Having her less than a hair’s breadth away was scrambling his insides and pinching his gut to the point that breathing was a challenge.

  “No,” Ian said, placing his hands on her shoulders and deliberately moving her away. “More like this close.”

  Her eyes held him fast. “What are you afraid of, Ian?”

  His answer surprised her. She’d expected him to gruffly declare, “Nothing.” Wasn’t that what macho men did? Pretended to be fearless? Instead, he looked at her and said. “You.”

  Dakota blinked, wondering if she’d heard wrong. “Me?”

  He told himself to get into the car, to place the stick shift between them, but he remained where he was. “Yes. Women like you tend to mess with a man’s mind, make him forget things.”

  Cars beeped as they drove by. It was all noise to her, melding into the background. Dakota felt an undercurrent of something she couldn’t quite describe going on between them. Drawing her to him. Making her wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like to have this man kiss her.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing once in a while,” she said slowly, watching his lips. Wondering. “Might make a man realize there’s more out there than just work.”

  “There’s a hell of a lot more things out there than just work.” For a second Ian could feel himself weakening. Could feel himself wanting to give in.

  But life wasn’t about giving in. It was about assuming positions and maintaining them. He had to maintain his. “But not for me.” He got into the car, then looked out at her. “Aren’t you going to be late for the show?”

  She didn’t care about being late. She wanted this damn frustration thing to leave her. It was like some kind of strange itch and she didn’t like it. Didn’t like, too, being the only one who felt it.

  “Right,” she mumbled as she got in on the driver’s side. Buckling up, she started the car again and peeled out of the spot more than a tad too fast.

  “Ease up, no point in breaking the sound barrier,” he told her.

  Oh, but there was a point, she thought. She was trying to outrace the itch.

  That night, when they returned from the studio, Ian fully expected the evening to be more or less a carbon copy of the other two nights that had transpired so far. So when he saw her emerge from her room dressed in a little black dress, whose slightly flared skirt swirled and flirted along the tops of her thighs, Ian dropped the book he’d been reading. His favorite author’s new offering could wait. Business always came first.

  Instinct had him on his feet, reaching for the jacket he’d slung over the back of the easy chair. He was right behind her as she made her way to the foyer. “Where are you going?”

  Dakota checked the contents of her small purse, then snapped it shut. Taking the black, three-quarter-length coat off the coatrack, she began to slip it on. Her answer was a single word. “Out.”

  Ingrained habit had him moving behind her in order to help her on with the coat. The exchange, he thought, sounded like one that took place inside of many homes, usually between a parent and a swiftly exiting teenager. Except that they were neither. “Where ‘out’?”

  “Out,” she repeated. It had been years since she’d been subjected to inquisitions as she tried to make her getaway. Her mother had been lenient, but her father had been relentless. She turned to look at Ian. “If you must know, I’m going club hopping with MacKenzie.” She reached for the doorknob. “Don’t wait up.”

  But he was right there with her, throwing on his coat, shadowing her footsteps. “I won’t have to.”

  She stopped hurrying. Suddenly there no longer was a need to. “I need to unwind.”

  “I won’t get in your way.”

  He already was in her way. He was constantly in her way. And he was the reason she needed to unwind in the first place.

  “The hell you won’t.”

  But even as she said it, she knew there was no way around it. Apparently no matter what she said, her dark warrior was coming along.

  The wall of noise intensified the moment they walked inside the darkened nightclub. The swirling lights emitted a rainbow of color that moved about the area like a hurricane.

  Dakota felt his grasp on her arm as she tried to make her way through the crowd, searching for MacKenzie.

  Her friend spotted them first. Standing up at the tiny table she’d secured for herself and Dakota, she waved madly until Dakota saw her. She sat back down, amusement in her eyes as she watched her friend and Ian work their way toward her.

  In Dakota’s estimation, Zee looked happier to see Ian than her. “Hey, I see you brought your shadow. Hi, Ian.” MacKenzie’s voice was the last word in cheer. “I’m sorry, there were only two chairs.”

  “No problem,” he told her. After issuing a strong, nonverbal warning as he glanced at Dakota, Ian went in search of a third chair.

  Dakota sank down o
pposite MacKenzie. She leaned into the other woman and said between semiclenched teeth, “This is getting very old.”

  MacKenzie hadn’t stopped looking at the man who’d come in with Dakota since his arrival. “I don’t care what you say, I still think he’s cute. Coming and going,” she added wickedly.

  “That has nothing to do with it, although I have no use for good-looking men—”

  “I do,” MacKenzie sighed.

  Dakota didn’t hear her. “The man is entirely too overbearing.”

  “He’s supposed to be. It’s the deluxe package, remember?”

  Dakota shifted on the small chair, trying to get comfortable. She shed her coat, letting it fall back onto the back of the chair.

  “One person’s deluxe is another person’s torture.” Slowly taking in the surrounding area, she became aware that a handsome thirtyish man stood at her elbow.

  The next moment, he leaned his hands on the back of her chair, his face close to hers. “Hi, beautiful, want to dance?”

  “She doesn’t,” Ian informed him firmly. Having returned with his prize, Ian deposited the chair right next to where the other man stood.

  The man jumped back. Half a head shorter, he looked properly intimidated by Ian. “Hey, sorry, didn’t know you were together.” His hands raised in surrender, he backed away.

  Dakota felt a burst of fury go off inside her chest. Not that she was interested in the man’s advances, but she resented Ian thinking he had the right to chase anyone away from her. What if she had been interested?

  She turned on Ian. “Do you know why people go club hopping?”

  Clubbing had never been his idea of fun. This club had particularly loud music. Any kind of prolonged contact was enough to jar his teeth loose. “Because they want to lose their hearing at an early age?”

  She ignored the flippant remark. “To connect with other people.”

  He slid onto his chair. “So connect.”

  Dakota pressed her lips together. “With people they didn’t know before they arrived.”

  He shook his head. “Bad idea.”

  Of course he’d say that. She ignored the amused expression on MacKenzie’s face. “Do you ever have any fun?” Dakota asked.

  His eyes held hers for a moment, and if her life had depended on it, she couldn’t have read what was going on in his mind. “I’m having it now.”

  Dakota sighed, shaking her head. She made eye contact with MacKenzie. “Note to self—kill Alan in the morning.”

  “Alan didn’t put him there, your fans did,” MacKenzie reminded her.

  “Alan’s the one who got the studio to pay double.”

  MacKenzie rested her head on her upturned palm and fluttered her lashes at Ian. It was evident by the expression on the man’s face, he didn’t know what to make of her. “I’d say he was worth every penny.”

  “If I was paying for the privilege of being annoyed, yes.” Rising to her feet, Dakota declared, “I’m going to get us something to drink.” She glanced at Ian, “A can of oil for you, I presume.”

  “Just water.” He was on his feet, too.

  “No, stay,” she ordered. Hand on his chest, she pressed him back down into his chair. “Stay here with MacKenzie and guard her for a minute.” She pointed over to the bar which was a large fifteen-foot rectangle. “You can watch me walk all of twenty feet to the bar,” she told him. “Close enough for you to leap into action if you have to.” And with that she walked away.

  MacKenzie beckoned Ian to lean forward. When he did, she said, “I’ve never seen her this edgy before. I don’t know if you bring out the best in her or the worst.”

  He never took his eyes off the woman as she made her way to the bar. Even with so many bodies between them, Dakota still stood out. Ian sighed inwardly. He had his work cut out for him.

  “Probably a little of both.”

  Dakota absorbed the noise and the crowd around the long, sleek bar. The electric-blue overhead lighting added a surreal glow to the immediate area. What she’d told Ian earlier was true. She just wanted to unwind, and he wasn’t letting her.

  Raising her hand, she managed to catch the bartender’s eye after a moment. The man, chosen for his skill as well as his overt good looks, lost no time in coming over to take her order.

  “Two strawberry daiquiris and a beer,” she said. Maybe a beer would help loosen Ian up, she thought. Something had to. She didn’t think she could bear another week and a half of this.

  She moved as someone wedged his way in on her right. “I’ll pay for what the lady’s having,” a deep voice said. Surprised and about to demur, Dakota turned to see a tall, attractive, blond-haired man in his early thirties giving her the once-over. He had nice brown eyes, she thought. “I know this sounds like a line, but you look awfully familiar.”

  “I’m on television.”

  “No kidding.” Leaning an elbow on the bar, he seemed properly impressed. His eyes swept over her. “Would I have seen you?”

  Natural inbred modesty made her laugh. “Only if you watch daytime television.”

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid my boss frowns on that kind of thing. I work on Wall Street, and watching TV cuts into profits.” Smiling genially, he put his hand out. “Eric Simon.”

  She slipped her hand into his. “Dakota Delany.”

  She watched him for a sign of recognition, but there was none.

  “Nice name.” He made himself comfortable around her. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the evening, Dakota Delany?” The man took out his wallet and paid for the drinks as the bartender placed them on the bar.

  Despite what she’d said to Ian, she didn’t come to the bar with the idea of meeting men. Certainly not with the idea of abandoning her companions for one. “I’m with friends.”

  He reached behind her, and after a beat she felt his hand lightly on her waist. Friendly yet not too familiar. “I can be a friend.”

  Maybe he could at that, but not while she was with the chaperon from hell. She moved to the side. “No, I don’t think that I—”

  And then suddenly Ian was there between them. The next thing happened so fast, it only registered after the fact.

  Ian punched Eric out.

  Chapter Nine

  Shock and disbelief raced through Dakota as she watched Eric Simon sink like a stone to the floor. Anger at Ian flared immediately. To add to the confusion, camera flashes went off all around her. As with every popular hot spot in New York, paparazzi hid in the woodwork, waiting for opportunities just like this. A picture was still worth a thousand words, and these days, sometimes an equal amount in hard cash.

  And Ian had presented them with one golden opportunity on a silver platter.

  Dakota grabbed hold of Ian’s arm in case he was going to take another swing at the incapacitated man. Like an avenging angel, she placed herself in between Ian and the fallen Eric.

  “Are you out of your mind?” she demanded hotly. “He was just talking to me.”

  Unruffled by her anger, Ian looked down at the man he’d just hit. The latter, still on the floor, was groggy but conscious. “He was doing more than that.”

  “Okay, he had his hand around my waist, that didn’t mean he was going to have his way with me.” Dakota knelt down to see what kind of damage her obviously deranged pretend bodyguard had done. By her estimation, Eric Simon was going to have some shiner by tomorrow. She felt a stab of guilt. In a way this was her fault. “I’m a big girl.” She looked up at Ian, fury in her eyes. He had no right to act like some Neanderthal protector. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Not when you’re drugged.”

  The stark words hung in the air between them. He offered her a hand and she rose to her feet. “What are you talking about?”

  Ian nodded toward the man he’d just hit. “I saw him slip something into your drink.” Ian indicated the daiquiri that was closest to her on the bar, then glared at the other man. “What was it, punk?”

  Rubbing his
jaw, Eric Simon slowly gained his feet. He watched Ian warily, real fear in his eyes. “Just a little ‘E’ to enhance the lady’s ultimate pleasure, that’s all.”

  Dakota even abstained from aspirin unless absolutely necessary. Her eyes widened in shock as she swung around to look at Eric. “You tried to drug me?” The look of helplessness on Eric’s face was all she needed to confirm Ian’s accusation.

  Without thinking, she let loose with a punch, connecting with Eric’s chin. He went down as quickly as he’d come up. More flashes went off. The crowd that had gathered around them closed in a little more, eating away at the semicircle of space they’d allotted the central trio in this drama.

  Ian nodded his approval, effectively masking any surprise that he might have felt. Looked like Dakota Delany could take care of herself after all.

  Their eyes locked. “Not bad,” Ian said. He took out his cell phone and pressed a single digit.

  Dakota rubbed her knuckles, seething at what Eric had presumed to do. And shaking inwardly at what might have happened had Ian not been looking out for her.

  Great, she thought, this is going to make the man impossible. She realized that he was on the phone. Now what? “Who are you calling?”

  Faced with a crime, the cop in him had been quick to surface. “Last time I heard, trying to drug someone, especially with an illegal substance, was against the law.” Instantly some of the crowd melted away from them and into the background, taking whatever substance they might have been abusing with them.

  Panic marred Eric Simon’s near perfect features. “Hey, there’s no call for that,” he protested, attempting to scramble to his feet a second time. “It was all just in fun.”

  Dakota saw red. She took a step toward him, unconsciously fisting her hand again. “You want fun? I’ll show you fun.”

  Ian shifted so that his body was partially between the two. “I’d stay down if I were you,” he advised Eric. “The lady looks like she means business.”

  And then a voice came on the other end of the line. Ian turned away from them to give the policeman, someone with whom he’d once worked the streets, the particulars of the incident.