Chapter Eight
Dillon was awake long before dawn. He couldn't get last night out of his mind. Now that he'd had time to process everything, he'd come to some conclusions. First, Josie wasn't just some chick pretending to be a bad ass. She was a trained professional who'd been hired to protect him, and last night she just might have saved him from, at the least, getting his ass kicked.
Second, she'd known all along he played pro ball and more importantly, she'd had at least an interest in him, as evidenced by her comment on catching a pass from him, and what she said about him making it hard to keep things professional.
He'd told himself probably a hundred times since this whole things started that he wasn't attracted to her, had no interest in being involved with her and that any attention he gave her was just an act. Now that he'd had five long hours of sleepless self-examination, he was able to admit the truth.
He was attracted and wanted her to be attracted to him. Dillon hated lies and deception and didn't want to play games. Because of that, and because his father had raised him to live by the dictates of his conscience, he'd made up his mind that starting today, he wasn't going to pretend and was going to let Josie know.
The problem he faced now, as he poured his third cup of coffee was that his gut had a case of pre-game jitters.
"You look serious."
"Shit!" Coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup and onto the countertop.
"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Josie hurried to grab the roll of paper-towels as Dillon set his cup on the counter. She ripped off a couple of sheets, handed them to him and then tore off more to help clean the spill.
"Everything okay?" She asked as she mopped up the mess.
"Yeah, fine." He gathered up the soaked paper-towels and deposited the mess into the trash can. That was when he finally noticed. She was wearing a pair of running shorts that rode her hips and a tight racer-back running top. "Going out?"
"For a run, yes. Want to join? Oh, sorry. Your knee. Wait, you have a bike, right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, want to bike?"
"Actually, I'd like to have a conversation." Dillon looked over his shoulder at her as he rinsed his hands.
"All right." Josie took a seat at the table.
Once he'd dried his hands and topped off his coffee, Dillon sat beside her. "First, thank you. It doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated that you put your life on the line every day to protect me."
"You're welcome but I'm just doing—"
"Stop. Don't tell me that again. I know why you were hired, and I know when you came here it was as a favor to my uncle and you had no feelings for me at all. But since then we've gotten to know one another, and unless I'm mistaken and reading things all wrong, have developed some—attraction for each other. Am I on target or totally off base here?"
Dillon noticed the way she clasped her hands together in her lap, and the way her posture straightened. She averted her gaze for a moment then looked directly at him. "No, you're not. To my shame, you're not."
"Your shame?"
"Yes. I was brought here as part of your protection detail, assigned a cover story and expected to fulfill my assignment. Developing feelings for you, whether it's respect, admiration, friendship or lust, isn't part of the playbook and I failed to keep it strictly business. If you want, I'll ask your uncle to have me replaced with—"
"No." The word seemed to jump out all on its own and he was a bit embarrassed. "I mean no, I don't want someone else. I want you."
"To remain as part of your protection detail, you mean?"
Well, there it was. The question that would determine where they went from here. His mind raced to consider the possible outcomes, much in the same way he'd calculate a strategy on the field. He could answer yes and she'd think his "want" was for her skills as an agent. They'd continue, but with her believing that any touch, compliment or sentiment that came from him was just an act.
Or, he could say that he wanted her outside the scope of her job. That had several likely outcomes. She might tell him he was barking up the wrong tree and either they keep it professional or she'd asked to be reassigned.
But finally, there was the possibility that he hadn't read things wrong at all, and she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.
Tick tock. Seconds rolled by.
"I mean I want you." Once the words were out, he almost regretted them out of fear he'd misjudged.
She'd imagined this moment, or one like it a hundred times, dreamed of hearing those words and not in one dream or imagining had it carried such a punch. Josie struggled for words. If she gave in to what she wanted, she'd be putting desire before responsibility and that went against the grain. But if she lied and pretended that she didn't have those feelings for him, she was quite certain he'd take the rejection and never look back when he walked away.
Damn it all, either way she would lose. Or would she? A third possibility presented itself, and yes it was born of desire, but there just might be worth to it. If she and Dillon really did become involved, then she'd not have to sleep on the sofa. She could sleep beside him and no one would get past her to harm him.
Was that just her way of justifying what she wanted? Possibly, but in all honesty, she'd not wanted a man the way she wanted Dillon since she fell in love with her husband and even that was different. They'd grown up together, been high school sweethearts. They were each other's first and there had been no others.
Now, she was a widow, a woman who'd known love and loss and a woman who knew the difference between empty desire and that which stems not just from the physical, but something deeper. And that was what she felt for Dillon. At least she thought it was.
So, for the first time in her career, she opted for what she wanted.
"And I want you."
"Are you sure about that?"
The question threw her for a loop. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because you've probably read all about me, the fodder from the gossip rags, stories from women. Your dossier."
"Oh, you mean the rumors of kinky sex? I discounted that as gossip, things said to garner attention."
"I see."
"That stuff wasn't true, right?"
"No. Mostly, it wasn't true."
Now, she was starting to feel apprehension sneaking in. "Mostly? Okay, so just spit it out, Dillon. What it is you're into that you think might send me running?"
He smiled and there was something untamed in his expression. "I like spanking."
What the hell? Why had a thrill shot right through her to take residence between her legs? "Giving or receiving."
"Giving."
"I see and you'd want to... you know?"
"I would. I do. So, let me ask again. Are you sure you want me, Josie?"
To her consternation she had to clear her throat to dispel the sudden tightness. "Yes."
"Prove it."
"Excuse me?" Why the challenge and why was it exciting her so damn much?
"Prove it. If you want me, go into my room, take off your clothes and bend over with your forearms on the mattress. I'll join you in five minutes."
Josie opened her mouth, closed it then stuttered. "You can't—you want—are you serious?"
"I am. Are you?"
Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it. A voice inside warned over and again, railing against the unfamiliar desire that had a sudden control on her. "Five minutes."
She rose, turned and left the room. One part of her mind told her to run upstairs and lock her door. The other part overruled reason and propelled her down the hall and into his room, not certain at all what she was letting herself in for yet unable to squelch the fire inside.