Page 3 of Protector

“Three weeks!” Mom’s brows meet in the middle, and I’m sure she’s thinking a postponement could lead to the project being shelved altogether. It’s not uncommon. I’m sure she wants to strangle Billy for telling one of the producers what happened and that we stayed at the hotel last night just to be safe. This is reinforcement for why we need to keep a lid on this situation.

“I’m sorry,” I say, slumping in my seat and passing my gaze around the table. Sometimes I have to remind myself that everything I do affects everyone I work with. If I don’t make money, neither do they.

Billy lifts my chin with his other hand, and I look into his brown eyes. “No one blames you, love. In fact, it wasn’t only about you. Taylor is extending her time in London, so she won’t return for another couple weeks herself.”

“Oh…okay.”

An awkward silence falls over the table until, one by one, we all end up on our phones for a few moments before the server comes back to check on us. Once we order, the conversation turns to business: my current modeling contract and whether it will be renewed, product endorsements, including some of Taylor’s makeup line, a prestigious handbag company, and a new liqueur.

Once we’ve all agreed that Catherine will only officially share the threat to me if the situation escalates, Billy leaves and it’s just the three of us again. Me and my two mommies who sometimes forget I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman.

Our server, who looks a year or two younger than me, stops by the table more than necessary, but I don’t mind. We eye each other from across the room as he pretends to talk to the hostess. Given my professional life, my visibility, it’s tough to meet men; I miss flirting. I miss feeling like a man is interested in me and not “Shay Cane.”

Catherine’s and mother’s voices fade into the background as I make eyes with Vince, just needing to have a “real” moment. Then, my gaze is drawn to a looming figure behind him. Vince glances over his shoulder, steps aside, intimidation painting his face.Sorry, Vince, but holy heavenly specimens, who is that guy?

My heart skips a beat, and I draw in a breath as the new man’s eyes seem to home right in on mine, as if they were programmed to do so. Tall, solid but not huge, he has a confidence about him, yet he’s only wearing jeans and a black shirt under a black leather jacket.

Oh my God, he’s coming over here.

I snap my gaze away, trying to figure out what Mom and Catherine are talking about. I must look as panicky as I feel because Catherine squints at me, and when the man stops at our booth, she looks up and smiles. “Oh, Brooks, you made it.”

CHAPTERTWO

Shay

The first thing I notice about him this close up are his thighs, since they’re practically eye level. My temperature spikes as I note the distinct stretch of his pants, which can barely contain his muscles. Then I spot his hands—rough and large; he’s got one tucked into a front pocket, and all I can think about is what they’d feel like gripping my hips.

The table jiggles me back to present as Catherine scoots out of the booth to hug Brooks.

“It’s great to see you, Cat.”

Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck at hearing the voice I knew he’d have. Deep, gritty, low—as if he knows it doesn’t take him much to be heard. And though his words are positive, the tone is something else I can’t place right now. Even more disconcerting is my reaction to him using Catherine’s nickname that I’ve only heard her husband use. There’s no time to determine whether I’m offended for her or somehow jealous of their closeness. The latter seems ridiculous.

“Thank you for coming,” she tells him. “Have a seat.”

His eyes flash to mine for a brief second, then pan to my mother, who’s on the end. As if the prospect of sitting next to her is somehow unappealing—or maybe he’s just respecting her personal space given his large size—he glances over his shoulder and reaches for a chair at the next table. He pulls it over, slips out of his jacket, and drapes it on the back of the chair.Whoa, those are definitely arms that can keep a girl safe. Taking a seat, he gives Catherine his focus, waiting for her to sit as well.

“Brooks Dalton, this is Adele Wheeler and Shay Cane.”

I appreciate her intentionally not addressing me as “her daughter,” not because I’m petty or vain, but because for so long, that’s how many in the industry saw me. My mother has always been a force in the business of entertainment—even before I was born—and as my manager.

Brooks nods to each of us, my mother returning it.

“Hello, Brooks,” I find myself saying, just so I can try out his name.

I catch a quick brow lift in my direction before he covers with an expression that’s all business.

This guy looks to be about fifteen years older than me, but he’s still a man—a hot one at that—and his lingering gaze on me does things to me I can’t begin to describe.

Of course, my mother has to take control of the conversation, so she jumps in with, “I’m sorry Catherine wasted your time coming down here, but we’ve actually already gottwobodyguards for Shay.”

To Brooks’s credit, he looks to me instead of her, and I sit up straighter under his gaze. Somehow his stare makes me feel like my own woman and a little girl all at once. “I think it’s worth a conversation,” I barely get out without a stutter.

Mom gives me a side-eye before turning her attention back to Brooks. I know her well enough to tell she’s warring between how hot Brooks is and how annoyed she is by his presence. “I suppose that makes sense.”

Brooks flicks his gaze over to Catherine, who nods her approval. “Why don’t we start with why you need a bodyguard? Catherine tells me you’re a model?”

I narrow my gaze, though I’m not sure why. Something about the way he seemed to sum me up in that one word has me bristling. “Among other things,” I say with an edge to my voice.

---