"What made you choose this profession? It looks like you were a soldier," I said looking up at him over my glasses. He was sitting perfectly straight, his suit hanging in tailored clean lines off his lithe body.
"I was injured. I took a bullet to the shoulder which makes using a rifle painful. I was released with full honors, and my commander recommended me to the protection detail for a visiting senator. My skill set transferred easily, and I have been a close protection officer ever since." His voice never fluctuated. He was the perfect example of calm. I prayed he didn't see how nervous I was.
"I see. It appears as though you have ten years experience in this sector. Why are you looking for a new position?"
Dean shifted slightly in his seat. His jaw tensed for a moment, but he answered matter-of-factly, "I was fired for breaking my client's associate's nose."
I raised my eyebrows. He continued.
"My former client is currently, and publicly, seeking treatment for substance abuse. I believed the man in question was selling her said substance, and as per my contract, I stopped him. My client was not pleased and revoked the contract."
His honest admission surprised me. You have been dealing with too many business sharks, I told myself. I liked the honest and straightforward tone of his voice; the way he spoke with authority and self-assurance. He had grown up from the cocky young man and replaced it with real confidence.
"I see. If you take this job with Mr. Saunders, you will be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement, as well as have some strange hours. Mr. Saunders will need to have you at his disposal day and night. This is not conducive to a family life. Would this be a problem for you?" I hoped my attempt at finding out if he ever married wasn't too blatant.
Dean cocked his head for a moment, then gave me a sly smile. I blushed, knowing he had figured me out.
"I don't have any family. My parents died before I joined the service, and I've never been married." A sadness crept into his eyes. "I could never find anyone willing to put up with me. Do you find it hard to be in the Saunders' employ?"
I shuffled the papers on the desk before answering. I wanted him to know I was still single, still waiting for someone, without being obvious. "No. The Saunders are the only family I have. I'm married to my work."
A ghost of a smile crossed Dean's rugged features. The room was far too warm for my taste, and I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back. The electricity in the room was humming as though we had never been apart.
"I see you were with the one-oh-one unit for another two years after..." my voice cracked slightly as I remembered that vacation we had together, " after your deployment for Desert Storm."
"And?" Dean's eyes grew hard. I didn't know if it was from remembering our time together or what he had seen in the war.
"What happened to you?" Why did you never write? Why didn't call me? You broke my heart!
"I got shot. I watched my friend die in my arms and almost lost another. And the worse part was that we weren't even allowed to tell our families where we were. Frontera died and I didn't even get to tell his mother why," Dean said. His voice stayed quiet, but there was a hidden anger and silent pleading for me to understand. He didn't write me because he couldn't. It didn't take the pain away.
"Tony died? What happened to Matt?" I couldn't help but ask. I wondered if Kimberly knew. She had always said she knew something bad happened to him.
Dean's blue eyes met mine. There was a dark pain in their cerulean depths and I wished I could jump up and hug him, but I knew I couldn't. It had been a long time since we were lovers.
"He's alive and well. He actually lives not too far from here in a little town on the coast." He watched me absorb the information. I waited for a moment to see if he would ask about Kimberly and Jenny, but he stayed silent.
I cleared my throat. This interview was getting away from me. "Why would you like this job?"
He flashed me a dashing smile and leaned back slightly in his chair. "I'm the perfect person to protect Jack Saunders. I'm subtle. I stop things before they happen. Mr. Saunders is the world's most eligible billionaire bachelor, and as a result he has the press's interest. His younger brother catches the media's attention on a regular basis, and thus thrusts Jack Saunders into the spotlight. He needs someone who can react and assess, and thus prevent a situation rather than smashing a reporter's camera."
"And what makes you think that's what I want?" My voice came out far huskier than I intended and I hoped he didn't notice the blush threatening to consume me.
Dean leaned forward, making my heart skip a beat as he came closer to me. "I know you want me because I'm here interviewing. If you didn't think I would be a good fit for this position, I wouldn't be here."
I swallowed hard. I stammered and began to fuss with the documents in front of me. Dean gave me a smile and sat back, enjoying my fluster.
"Would you have any trouble reporting to me as your supervisor?" I asked the question bluntly, trying to find a way to regain control of the heat coursing through my body. With him sitting within arms' reach, every memory of our time together was flooding through me. I hadn't expected it to be like this.
"You are in charge, ma'am. I'll do anything you wish." He shot me a confident smile that made me unsure as to whether or not he intended the double meaning. The emotions of the past were threatening to overwhelm me, and I had to stop this before I lost control of the situation.
"You should know that there is a strict no fraternization between employees policy."
"That's not going to be a problem, Ms. Weber."
The room suddenly dropped ten degrees. I wasn't hot anymore. His face regained a guarded expression, the teasing grin gone. It almost hurt to have the tension between us cut so quickly. I wanted to fix it, but I knew I couldn't. Not if we were going to work together. Our past was very much over, and there was no hope for our future.
"Well, Mr. Sherman, you have all the necessary qualifications. This interview was merely a formality. The Saunders family had already decided to hire you. You start tomorrow morning. I'll have someone bring in the paperwork."
I stood up, my heart alternating between pounding and freezing. I didn't know what to do with the mix of emotions running through my mind. Dean stood as well and shook my hand. I could still feel the current of electricity running through our touch, though it didn't match with his icy demeanor.
Gathering my papers, I scurried out the door, afraid to even glance behind me. I needed to clear my head and hopefully figure out what I was going to do. Working with Dean was not going to be easy, and I only had until tomorrow morning to figure out how to do it. At least this time I wouldn't have the distraction of waking up in his bed, I thought.
Chapter 10
June 7th, 1990
The sky was just beginning to glow with the promise of morning when I felt Dean slip out of bed. He padded quietly on the floor, picking up his clothes and dressing. I peeked one eye open to watch him wriggle into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, admiring the view. It was worth it to wake up a little to see his body move. His blue eyes caught me peeking and he came over and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Go back to sleep," he whispered, leaning over to kiss my forehead. His lips were warm and soft, so soft that I never wanted them to leave.
"Where are you going?" Sleep made my voice creak like an old door. Dean brushed the hair off my forehead, smiling down at me. He looked like an angel in the morning light.
"Boy things today. Remember?" Dean's blue eyes twinkled with excitement. I nodded slowly, remembering that he had said something about going out with Matt and Tony today.
"Have fun. When will you be back?" I asked, sitting up slightly.
"Late afternoon." He kissed me again softly. "Go back to sleep."
I mumbled an "Okay" and shifted to my side, finding a cool spot on the pillow. Dean made sure the sheet was tucked up around me before he quietly tip-toed out and shut the door.
***
The roar of motorcycle engines in the late afternoon made me look up. The growling rumble was loud enough to hurt my ears as three bikes powered up toward the house. Kimberly flashed me a big grin, practically flinging her book down on the sand in order to run to the front of the boys' house to greet them. I marked my place and grabbed my swimsuit cover. Then, I followed her at a more sedate pace. Jenny was already hot on Kimberly's heels.
In the large driveway of the big beach house, the three men revved their engines and grinned at us girls coming to greet them. Jenny hopped on the back of Matt's bike and squealed with delight as he raced around the open street.
Tony and Dean started doing dangerous-looking patterns with their bikes, obviously showing off their skills. The two of them made tight figure-eights around each other, eluding one another and certain death by mere inches. I wanted to cover my eyes, sure they were both going to crash and die. Then, they powered into a high-speed circle. They chased one another in such a tight spin that it looked as though their bikes were moving along the ground on their wheel rims. My breath caught in my throat, fear threatening to choke me.
I wanted them to stop. I hated motorcycles. Something about them scared me. Maybe it was the noise, maybe it was that I liked some steel between me and a certain death, maybe it was the accident that put my cousin James in the hospital for three weeks. In any case, to me, they were just glorified death traps.
Dean laughed as Tony pulled out of the circle-chase and over to where Kimberly stood, her hands on her face in total amazement at their daredevil antics. The manly testosterone effects of the bikes were certainly working on her and Jenny.
"Wanna ride?" Tony asked Kimberly, her shy smile threatening to beam off her face. She nodded and he pulled her onto the back of his bike, revving the engine. He handed her his helmet, and she kissed his cheek before putting it on.
"Hey, Hot Stuff," Dean said, giving me a wicked grin as he took off his helmet. "Hop on."
I hesitated for a moment. I didn't want this.
Dean raised his eyebrows waiting for me to answer. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, ready for me to join them. It's just a motorcycle. They aren't going to do anything too dangerous. He isn't James, I told myself. Besides, I trusted Dean.
The two other bikes took off down the drive, and Dean kept his hand outstretched. "Come on, it'll be fun!" he said.
"Promise me you'll stop if I ask you to," I said.
He looked at me like I was being a worry wart, then brought his hand up to his opposite shoulder. "Tap my shoulder three times and I'll stop immediately," he said, tapping his shoulder three times.
I bit my lip and nodded. I accepted the helmet from his hand and got on the back of the motorcycle. The bike shook like an angry volcano beneath me, and I clung to Dean for dear life. He was my rock, his abs hard and tight under my arms as I pressed into him. I tucked my feet up and held my cheek into his back, squeezing my eyes shut as he cranked the engine.
With a terrifying surge, the bike jumped forward, the engine roaring in my ears. My entire body was vibrating, and I wished my fear would turn into excitement. I wanted to like this. I wanted to impress Dean with my willingness to do exciting things. I wanted to be like Jenny; I could hear her laughing and begging Matt to go faster. I opened one eye to see the two of them nearly parallel to the ground in a deep turn as they were about to turn onto the road. The image made my stomach flip, and I quickly buried my face into Dean's back. Please, please don't do that to me, Dean, I begged in my head.