Under His Protection

by Karen Erickson

  Three weeks on a lightly populated island with a woman who haunted his dreams at night and his thoughts throughout the day. All by himself.

  His every dream and nightmare come to life.

  “Why did you do that?” Byron asked the second Hewitt and his cronies left the room.

  Mason shrugged. “Do what?”

  “Argue with the vice president. You’re looking for a promotion. That’s not the way to go about it and you know it.” Byron shook his head. “Since when do you care so much about his daughter anyway? I thought she drove you crazy.”

  Crazy with lust, not that he’d ever admit it. “No one gives a shit about her, especially her father.”

  “Yeah well, it’s not your job to give a shit about her either, beyond keeping her out of trouble.”

  Harsh. “What the hell is Mitchell up to anyway that he can’t come with me?”

  “Wife’s getting an operation. He’ll be taking some time off while she recovers but it won’t be long. Some outpatient procedure. Then he’ll be on part-time duty for the remainder of the campaign,” Byron explained.

  Lucky bastard.

  “Getting her out of here is the right thing, Russell. Trust me on this. We don’t need any trouble. It’s not looking good right now, you know. We’ll have a new regime in here come January, I feel it in my gut.” Byron shook his head. “In the meanwhile, we need to make them happy. And Hewitt will be happiest when his daughter’s out of his hair.”

  “She’s not the pain in the ass he makes her out to be,” Mason muttered. Why the hell he couldn’t stop defending Blake, he didn’t know.

  “Not according to her father.” Byron jabbed a finger close to Mason’s chest. “You need to get your shit together and get her the hell out of here.”

  Right. He hadn’t had a day off in a week and could really use a break. He wondered if he even had any friends anymore beyond work acquaintances. It had been a long time since he’d done something socially, let alone go out on an actual date. Women had become a thing of the past and not necessarily by choice.

  “Can’t send anyone else with me?” he asked hopefully.

  “Nope, it’s just you.”

  Having Jerry—hell, anyone with him would’ve been the buffer he needed between Blake. The idea of going it alone scared the hell out of him.

  He wasn’t sure he could trust himself. That was a hard fact to take.

  “Don’t fall for her flirtation tactics either. That’s what sent the other guy packing. And I don’t think you’re willing to lose your job over a hot piece of ass. Am I right?”

  Anger surged through Mason and he clenched his fists at his sides. It was one thing to irritate his superior. It was another thing entirely to be tempted to punch his face in.

  He needed to get a grip.

  “That’s the biggest problem with Blake Hewitt. She’s beautiful and sexy and it’s like she doesn’t even know it,” Byron continued, not even noticing the dark look on Mason’s face. “Men look at her and immediately picture undressing her. She’s not necessarily the wholesome, good Republican daughter image Hewitt wants to portray, no matter how hard he tries. She questions his political party’s issues despite working for him on the campaign trail. Most of his staff wishes Hewitt would’ve canned her a long time ago.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack,” Byron said grimly. “I’ll talk to Mitchell. Let him know you need the rest of the afternoon off to pack and handle personal matters. He’ll cover for you. It’s an easy detail since Blake is confined to her condo at the moment. We’re flying the two of you out in the morning.”

  “How long will we be staying?” He knew, but needed to hear it again. Hear his torturous sentence slapped down upon him like some sort of criminal being sent off to prison.

  “Three weeks, tops. Right up to the election. Not like you have plans, right? You knew it would be busy this time of year.”

  Of course, he didn’t have plans. His life had become nothing but his job. But spending a solid twenty-one days with Blake all alone?

  He didn’t know if he could take it.

  Chapter Three

  “I bet you’re not happy being here with me.” Blake watched Mason carefully, curious to see his reaction.

  She, on the other hand, was ecstatic he was the agent accompanying her on this new adventure. So ecstatic, she’d started to form a plan since the moment she learned he was coming with her during her banishment to the family cabin.

  He shrugged, didn’t offer a reply. Merely took her suitcases from the trunk of the rental car and wheeled them into the cabin. She followed him, letting her gaze linger on his backside. A shame she couldn’t see it since his ass was covered by his suit jacket.

  And didn’t he stick out like a sore thumb on the island? Everyone around here dressed country casual and she’d come accordingly. Chunky knit ivory sweater and tight dark rinsed jeans tucked into knee high black boots, she certainly fit in better than he did.

  She glanced down at herself and grimaced. Rich country casual was more the look she sported. Something she needed to work on. And Mason looked like exactly what he was. A Secret Service agent arrived on island to serve and protect.

  “Maybe you want to be back in DC? The election is almost over. Everything’s pretty exciting right now.” All she wanted was a reaction. A clue that maybe, just maybe he was happy to be with her.

  She was certainly glad to be back on the island, where she could gain some peace and quiet, maybe indulge in her painting. She’d converted one of the bedrooms in the main cabin into a studio a couple of years ago just for it.

  Her little secret, the one thing she found joy in more than anything, was painting. She’d told no one, afraid they would laugh at her and not take her seriously.

  Not that anyone took her seriously anyway.

  “This is where I’ve been assigned. I have no complaints.” His vivid green eyes lit upon her, lingered for the briefest moment before they skittered away, scanning the room with ruthless efficiency.

  “You’re so diplomatic.” They’d hardly spoken the entire trip and if he wanted to ignore her, then fine, she’d ignore him too.

  But there was no denying the attraction brewing between them. She wasn’t imagining it either. It was there. Like vibrant little strikes of electricity bouncing back and forth between them, shocking her every time they struck, making her more aware of him.

  His potency, his raw, masculine beauty, it called to her. Sometimes she caught him looking at her, his gaze heated, his expression full of potent desire. He’d always turn away, as if afraid he’d been caught.

  Aching arousal spiraled through her every time their gazes met. It was palpable, this energy between them. He liked to pretend it didn’t exist, she could tell.

  But she had a couple of extra tricks up her sleeve. He couldn’t ignore her the entire time they were together on the island, not even Jerry around to interfere. She needed to take advantage of the situation handed her.

  Blake couldn’t believe she was even contemplating this, but she needed to take advantage of her private time with Mason.

  “Everything looks good. I still need to do a more thorough search, though,” he declared as he started down the hall. “Which bedroom is yours?”

  “Last door on the left,” she called as she walked toward the window that faced the backyard and in the distance, the Pacific Ocean.

  It was gorgeous here, a place she’d loved visiting since she was a child. Her grandparents had owned it originally, leaving the property to her mother when they’d both eventually passed on. Her mother never came here though, and had given Blake her full permission to use the property whenever and however she wanted.

  So she did.

  “I put your luggage in your room,” Mason announced as he strode back into the living room.

  “Thank you.” She left the window and walked toward the couch, stopping just behind it. Brushing a hand across the back of the dark brown sued
e, she wasn’t quite ready for him to leave her yet. “I hope you brought jeans.”

  “I did.”

  “And T-shirts maybe?”

  He gave her a non-committal shrug. “A few.”

  “Good. You stick out in your fancy suits.”

  “I know.”

  “I should’ve warned you. I came prepared.” She gestured at herself.

  Not saying a word, his warm gaze did a slow perusal, starting at the top of her head and then wandering down, lingering on her breasts, her hips, her legs.

  Her body warmed beneath his blatant stare, tingled in all the right places. God, she both hated and loved it when he said nothing, just let his eyes and facial expressions do all the talking.

  Mason said so much more when he didn’t speak.

  “Want me to walk you over to your cabin?” The property consisted of two wooded acres and two cabins. The main house was larger, at nearly two thousand square feet, while the second cabin was small but quaint and a little less than half the size.

  “I’ve got it handled. I’ll be back in a few minutes to finish my search. There are a few things I need to take care of first.” He started to go and she went toward him, following him to the front door.

  Desperation clawed within her and her mind raced. How could she keep him here longer? Where did all of her grand plans go? The ones she concocted on the plane ride over? All sorts of delicious scenarios, including her jumping him the second they arrived on the island.

  None of them were coming to fruition. She was such a chicken.

  “What are you doing for dinner?” she blurted. Gah, she wanted to smack herself in the forehead, stuff a sock in her mouth, anything to stop her saying such stupid stuff. He was going to turn her down, she just knew it.

  “I’m staying in, though I’ll do one last pass through the house before bed time. Call me if you need anything.” He turned on his heel and exited the cabin, not even giving her a backward glance.

  She watched him leave, anger simmering low in her belly. He’d just walked away from her, didn’t even give her a chance to say anything. Dismissing her like everyone else.

  It frustrated the hell out of her. Was she so unimportant that everyone forgot her the second they turned away? She hated the way it made her feel. Despised more she allowed it to happen in the first place.

  Determination filled her and she went to her bedroom. Rifling through her dresser, she finally found what she was looking for. A cream colored satin and lace nightgown with matching robe she’d bought to wear for an old boyfriend she’d brought to the island long ago. The price tag still dangled from it, an expensive little item that hadn’t deserved to sit in a drawer gathering dust. She’d never got the chance to wear it for her ex. Why, she couldn’t remember.

  Blake frowned. Didn’t that just make her feel like a slut? God, she’d been through more men than she’d care to admit, though she rarely had sex with them. None of them had been long-term boyfriends. More like boy toys she hung out with on occasion. Very rarely had she indulged sexually.

  Secretly, she didn’t like to let anyone get too close. It scared her, letting someone in. Allowing a man to see all her faults, share her hopes and dreams only for him to laugh at her and tell her she was stupid. Crazy. Foolish.

  It was easier being alone. There was no waiting around at a man’s beck and call, begging for his attention. She got enough of that treatment from her father. And yet she allowed Mason to do much the same on a daily basis.

  Well, he wasn’t going to be able to ignore her any longer. He wouldn’t be able to after what she had planned. Doubt clawed at her and she pushed it aside. She was determined to make this happen. She needed to cling to her newfound courage and follow through.

  Follow through on her seduction of Mason Russell.

  * * * *

  Mason was exhausted, cranky and horny. And not necessarily in that order.

  The long day was killing him. It was almost midnight and he was exhausted. Yet his subject was bouncing around. She was still up, practically every light in the large cabin ablaze.

  He’d chosen the bedroom he stayed in so he could keep an eye on her. Even lying in bed, he could stare out the window and watch her. He refused to go to bed until she turned out the lights. His grumpiness level went up a notch with every minute that passed.

  The woman refused to go to bed. He knew Blake could be a night owl, but this was ridiculous.

  He regretted his earlier behavior, but he’d never admit it. The woman set him on edge every time she came close. He didn’t know what to do with his tumultuous feelings that bubbled just beneath the surface. It threw him, how his emotions came into play when he was with Blake.

  Well, not necessarily emotions. More like lusty, lurid thoughts of what he could do to her sexy body for hours on end if given the opportunity.

  The hurt in her eyes when he’d left her standing alone in the living room was still etched in his mind. She’d ignored him when he’d returned to check on the place, locking herself away in the little studio. She’d ushered him right out of there when he’d searched it earlier. She’d been short, upset and he’d been rude and abrupt. He was sorry, but he didn’t plan on apologizing.

  She’d forget. Just like he’d forget. They always did.

  Movement caught his attention and he watched her go from room to room, turning off the lights as she went, not bothering to close the blinds or curtains. A fact he needed to speak to her about tomorrow. Breathing a sigh of relief, he settled his head deeper into the pillows, more than ready to fall asleep.

  She entered her bedroom and went to the dresser, her back to him. With quick, efficient movements, she stripped, tossing off her sweater, stepping out of her jeans, until she stood only in her underwear, a black bra and matching pair of black, low-rise panties.

  Mason sat up, his mouth gone dry. Anticipation rode hard through him, his exhaustion disappearing just like that.

  He could only focus on Blake.

  She reached into an open drawer and pulled out a nightgown, cream colored and silky. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked his way and he was tempted to duck and hide but he couldn’t move.

  Could she see him? He didn’t think so.

  With a flick of her fingers, the bra went flying. He broke out in a cold sweat. Fuck, he wished she’d turn around. Give him a look at her bare breasted. He was desperate to see her like this. Naked and vulnerable and so fucking beautiful, it hurt to look at her.

  Blake shimmied into the nightgown, letting it drop over her head, the thin, lacy straps settling on her slim shoulders. Tossing her hair back, she reached for the hem of the gown, gathering it up to mid-thigh before she slid her panties down her legs, kicking them off.

  Clenching his hands into fists, he waited, catching the second glance over her shoulder before realization kicked in.

  She did all of this for him—a little performance to drive him crazy with lust.

  It was working.

  Walking to the window, she stood there, reaching out to grip either side of the frame. She stared directly at him and he stared back, mesmerized, desperate to see what she might do next.

  Her lips pursed, delicate dark blonde brows arched and he swore the expression on her face asked, “Like what you see?”

  She was innocence and temptation combined. One minute she was the shy, scared girl and the next, a bold, seductive woman. He didn’t understand her.

  But he wanted her.

  Christ, how she tempted him. What would she do if he went to her? Would she be surprised? Or expecting him? He imagined grabbing her, yanking the nightgown clean from her body. Take her from behind right where she stood. Against the window, her lush breasts pressed against the cool glass as he thrust his cock inside her welcoming body again and again.

  That’s what she asked for, putting on this little show. She wanted him, he wanted her. But he refused to get involved.

  In other words, he was screwed.

  Frustration ripp
ed through him and with a growl, he flicked on the lamp, then reached for his cell phone. Hit the speed dial for Blake’s number.

  He was going to make her stop. Now.

  Blake’s cell phone rang but she ignored it, too intent on driving a certain man crazy with desire.

  Was it working? She had no clue. She couldn’t see him. It was too dark within his room, though the curtains were open. It would’ve been so much easier if he’d stayed in the house with her. He reassured her she was safe before he left for the night. The entire cabin had been bugged or tricked out with the latest in technology. He’d know if someone entered her cabin before she would.

  Her cell stopped ringing only to start again and she gave a little murmur of frustration. Who’d call at this time of night anyway? Her parents were already in bed and not like she had any real friends. Not anymore.

  She went to the dresser and checked the caller ID. Snapping the phone up, she answered it with a breathless hello.

  His harsh breath sounded in her ear and she swallowed hard. He sounded angry, agitated.

  He also sounded—dare she think it—aroused.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” The sound of his growling baritone made her instantly wet and she squeezed her legs together to ease the ache.

  “So you are watching.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “Blake.” His voice was a warning but she had no interest in listening.

  “Did you like it, Mason? Do you like what I’m wearing?”

  “Shut the blinds, draw the curtains, whatever you have on your window, just cover it.”

  “But then you won’t be able to see me.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “It’s your job to see me. To watch over me, right?”

  He sighed, the sound blowing directly into her ear and she shivered. He sounded so forlorn, she almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  “You need to stop.” The weariness in the demand softened it considerably.

  “Stop what?” She turned to stare out the window, wishing she could see him. Was he still watching? Could he see her sliding her hand over her breast, down her stomach?