Page 39 of Shield and Savior

Dad:…What?

Me: Over a hundred grand on a party, he can afford to pay his debts.

Dad: You showed remarkable restraint. Proud of you.

Aw…my cheeks burn a little from the inner glow. He’s proud of me. I never thought I would hear those words fornotturning a groom into a widower.

ChapterNineteen

Izzy

Fingers brush against my shoulder. Lance stands above me with a plastic bag in his hand. He says nothing, but the rapid movement as he drops to his knees sends a lingering whiff of his cologne into the air. He holds my ankle in one hand and manipulates the strap of the shoe with the other. There’s a quick pinch as the buckle unlatches. With one smooth motion, he slips my foot out of its prison. I check for blood, convinced it would be gushing, and Lance would flinch away. No blood, but there is the embryo stage of a blister on my pinky toe.

“You should’ve said something,” he says as the plastic bag rustles with his hand inside. “It can’t be the cake that’s got you so pissed.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Oh, it’s the cake.” Once he slides the terry cloth slipper over my foot, an instant peace eases my fury. “But my toes might’ve been an issue too.”

He peaks up at me, grinning with smug satisfaction, but there’s something darker behind his eyes. No longer playful and friendly. And definitely not professional.

My belly warms with the sight of him on his knees by my feet. From this angle, my breasts and thighs and his face between my legs are in the frame.

Say something, deflect, do something.

“Um…”

He repeats the process on my other foot, but his hand stays on my ankle, inching upward on my calf. “Does this feel better?”

My words start to work now. “You’ve done a great job protecting my toes. You take your bodyguard title very seriously.”

The warmth of his hand snakes under my knee. His gaze burns my core. “Izzy, when I’m working, protecting you is all I think about.” His palm rests on my inner thigh. “But I’m not working right now.” His eyes dip, and with the eye contact severed, I feel a rush of coolness.

My breath catches on my lips, and I squeak. “Oh?”

“I thought I was on a date with you.” His voice is low as his tone edges with something new. He pauses. His silence is an invitation for me to agree or disagree.

I swallow. “And what’s the difference between the two?”

Slowly, he lifts his head, returning my gaze. “What happens next, I guess. If I’m your bodyguard, we’ll drive home, maybe swing by a diner. I’ll make sure you get something sweet, be it cake, pie, whatever. Hell, I’ll even splurge and get you ice cream too. I will walk you to your door, pass you off to Specs, and see you Monday morning. Everything goes back to normal.” He pauses again. “But I’ve spent all night thinking I was your date. Obviously, your safety is a priority, but I let other thoughts work into my brain, too.”

I didn’t know there was a second option. “And what happens if you’re my date?”

He slides both of his hands under my dress, squeezes my thighs and presses them further apart. I’m not spread-eagle in the hotel lobby, nothing indecent, but there sure is something unprofessional happening. “I’d eat something sweet too.” A finger traces the lacy fabric triangle of my thong. He flashes me another wicked grin. There’s no hiding it. He knows exactly how much I want him.

But questions, concerns, and fears halt all forward motion.

“Would you have to stop protecting me? And Drew? You’ve been helping him with his homework. He looks up to you. I like watching TV with you. Knowing you’re watching over us at night, it’s the safest I’ve ever felt.” My words and thoughts scramble together. “If you’re my date, am I still your client?”

His finger stops tracing my panties. “No,” he whispers.

My heart sinks, and I adjust, closing my legs and ending his access. It’s fun to pretend, but it’s not worth risking everything. He fixes my dress so it lays daintily across my knees and rises to stand before me. He’s a tower of muscle and perfection. I twist my fingers and count the flowers on the carpet because I don’t want to see his expression.

He lifts my chin. “I would protect you a thousand times more fiercely than any client I’ve ever had.”

My heart turns to mush. The dampness between my legs grows. God, I want him so much…but… “Drew and I are a package deal. You get that, right?”

Lance backs up and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Jesus, how am I fucking this up already? “I mean, the protection, you would fiercely protect both of us. Obviously, the date stuff would just be me.”

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