Chapter Four
Holy Mother of God.
What had Zola done in a previous life to deserve this level of insanity?
First, the CIA sends some guy she’s never heard of to her doorstep to inform her that her life was in danger and she needed protection, and then two days later, Mike Dorsen steps right out of her past to fill the position.
She had to be dreaming.
And the damn man had to show up looking like a million bucks. He was nothing like the eighteen-year-old boy who took her virginity and then walked away with a smile and a promise.
No. He was a much better, improved version of that teenager. With muscles on every inch of his body, a wry grin that hadn’t changed in twelve years, and the beginning of the tiniest of wrinkles around his eyes, he was sex personified.
Just what she did not need.
Why couldn’t he have been ugly? Balding. Scarred. Graying. Something. Anything.
She sighed as she changed into slacks and then began stuffing clothes into a suitcase with shaking hands. Who was she kidding? The man would look hotter than sin no matter what the circumstances. His sexiness came from within. One look into his eyes—the gateway to his soul—and any woman would swoon. Nothing physical about him would make a bit of difference.
But it didn’t help that he had no flaws.
She was so preoccupied thinking about Mike that she didn’t notice him approaching and nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned around to find him leaning against the doorframe. “Jesus. Shit. Mike.” She set a hand over her heart as she tried to catch her breath.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you hadn’t heard me. I thought you were simply ignoring me.”
“Why would I do that?”
He lifted a brow, straightening his frame. “I don’t know. Probably because you’re pissed.”
“Why would I be pissed?”
“Because you’re not fond of the idea of running from a possible kidnapper. Because you don’t like having your life disrupted. Because the man who showed up at your doorstep was me.” His voice dipped lower as he finished.
She flinched. He wasn’t wrong.
He continued, his voice even lower, softer. “Because we have a history that leaves you with more questions than answers.”
Nail meet head.
She pursed her lips as she turned around to zip her suitcase. She wasn’t sure what all she’d tossed inside haphazardly. Nothing about her behavior was rational or normal. Usually, she was incredibly organized and tidy. Today she felt completely off balance. It had started earlier in the morning when she’d been told she needed to leave work to go meet her mysterious protector. And it had gone downhill from there.
“Zola…” His voice was still soft, but gentler.
She spun around to face him. “Not now. Let’s get out of here. You open that Pandora’s box and we’ll never make it to the airport.”
He nodded and came toward her.
For a moment, she worried he would reach out for her. If he touched her, she would fall into a million pieces. But that wasn’t his intention. Instead, he hefted her suitcase off the bed and turned around to carry it out of the room.
Zola couldn’t decide if she was disappointed he hadn’t touched her or relieved. A little of both.
She followed him to the front room, turning off lights and going through a mental checklist of all the things she needed to do before leaving indefinitely. She didn’t have pets or even plants. Was that depressing?
The reality was that Zola had worked her ass off for years, first in undergrad, then moving to law school, and then making her way to the DA’s office. Every step of the way she met another life goal. Every professional aspiration had been fulfilled.
She didn’t care that her only friends were work colleagues and she’d never been in a serious relationship. She didn’t have time for that sort of thing. She worked hard to make the world a safer place. It was in her blood.
As she met Mike at the door, she glanced back at the living room. What did she have to show for all her hard work? A clean condo? A tidy appointment book?
Certainly not a man.
They drove to the airport in silence, Zola looking out the window the entire time. Her mind raced. If she didn’t keep the memories from twelve years ago at bay, she would lose it. So many snapshots running through her brain.
Her first kiss was with this man.
The first time she lied to her father.
The first time she snuck out of the house.
The first time she snuck him into the house.
The first time she had sex…
Every picture in her mind was vivid, as though it had all happened last week instead of more than a decade ago.
What happened to them?
She was afraid of the answer, so she sat next to him with her lips pursed together and her gaze out the window, seeing nothing.
Some supreme being had to have been laughing heartily at this predicament. What were the chances? Of all the people in the world, how had Mike Dorsen been sent to be her bodyguard?
Was this some sort of divine intervention? Or the most twisted joke the universe could conspire against her?
When they got to the airport, she had her first contact with Mike. He set his hand on her back as they moved through the concourse, aiming for the ticket counter. He didn’t touch her skin, but the pressure of his fingers against the small of her back sent a shudder up her spine.
She remembered that touch. It nearly burned, and not in a bad way. The heat coming from the tips of Mike’s fingers melted a bit of her resolve.
No matter how many times she told herself this was a business arrangement and to leave it at that, she needed answers. For now, she could ignore the questions running through her mind nonstop. Eventually, when they reached their destination, she would have to ask.
What happened?
Why did you leave me?
Mike spoke to the man behind the counter, handed him their driver’s licenses, and took the tickets from him. He never once stopped glancing around, always aware of their surroundings as though whoever was interested in Zola was right on their heels. Was he being overly cautious? Or did he know things he hadn’t told her?
It wasn’t until they were through security, at the gate, and then on the plane that Zola found out they were sitting in first class.
Who paid for this? Surely not the government.
Mike’s brow was furrowed as he lifted her suitcase into the overhead bin. He ushered her into the window seat, and then collapsed into the one next to her, running a hand over his face.
“You didn’t buy these first class tickets.” She didn’t ask. It wasn’t a question.
“Nope.” He didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he leaned his head back, his eyes closed.
Suddenly, she knew who had a hand in this and sighed. Her father. Of course. And that pissed Mike off?
“I’m sorry,” she found herself uttering, wishing immediately she hadn’t spoken.
“For what?” He twisted to face her, his eyes drawn close.
“For my father.” When they were sixteen, that had been her most-used phrase. When they were seventeen, it continued, increasing in frequency. When they were eighteen, it became a mantra.
She winced, remembering all the times she’d apologized for her father’s actions.
Mike frowned, but only for a second. His face suddenly lifted, his eyes widening, his lips switching to a grin. “Did you feel the need to say that out of old habit?”
She smiled back at him. “It just slipped out. But judging from the frustration evident on your face, I’d say my dad paid for this upgrade. You never did like him interfering.”
“Nope.” He looked away, the lighthearted banter gone. As if he had a sudden need to read the emergency exit plans, he grabbed the trifold piece of card stock from the back of the seat and flipped it around in his hands.
Zola reached across the wide armrest and grabbed his forearm. “He still meddles in my life. Some things never change. But he means well. I’m sure he wanted me to be comfortable. So he upgraded us.”
Mike gave his head a quick shake, not meeting her gaze. “Right.”
Oh yeah, he was pissed. Some things never changed. Although she wasn’t sure this aggravation was warranted. There was no reason for Mike to go all cold on her just because her dad was kind enough to increase their comfort for the short flight to Norfolk. He didn’t have to be a jackass. After all, he was the one who walked away from her and never looked back. He was the one who broke his promises. If anyone should be pissed, it should be her.
“Put your seat belt on, babe. We’re gonna take off soon.” He changed the subject, still not making eye contact. But the way he said “babe” sent a jolt of electricity through her that was far more intense than when he’d set his hand on her back.
He’d called her babe hundreds of times in their youth. Perhaps thousands. In another world. In another lifetime. It dragged forth memories that were better left in the past.
Her hands were shaking as she buckled her seat belt, and she chewed on her lower lip and stared out the window as the plane backed away from the Jetway. Her eyes watered, and she willed them not to leak and embarrass her. There was no logical reason why she should be all choked up over a simple endearment after twelve years of separation. Irrational.
Mike set a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
She nodded, fighting harder, not facing him.
Stop being nice.
As the plane made its way to the runway and then sped off, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and focused on breathing. She could do this. She had no choice.
* * *
It was evening before Mike pulled the black Tahoe he’d rented up to the lake house and shut off the engine. “I’m sorry you won’t be able to see much tonight with the sun down. You’ll be shocked when you take in the view tomorrow morning. It’s amazing.”
She didn’t respond. They’d spoken so little to each other all day it wasn’t surprising. Instead, she meandered along behind him as he grabbed her suitcase from the trunk and then led her to the front door. “It’s the backyard you have to see. It exits out to a fantastic patio with the beach for a backdrop.” He was rambling, though he had no idea why he felt the need suddenly to break the ice between them.
They were stuck together for the foreseeable future, and though he had no intention of discussing the past with her or dragging up bad feelings, he needed to pull his shit together and make the most of the present.
It would help if she wasn’t so damn sexy. She had changed into more practical traveling clothes at her condo, but the fitted black pants she now wore only brought more attention to her perfect ass, not less. The skirt had given him a view of her legs, but the pants… Damn, her ass was fine.
He hoped to God the woman owned jeans, and that they were in the suitcase, because the only thing he could think of that would make his cock harder would be denim stretched across her cheeks.
Mike fumbled with the keys to the house as he shook thoughts of Zola’s butt from his mind. Moments later, he had the door open and was dropping her suitcase inside so he could turn to the panel and shut off the alarm.
“Wow, high tech,” she said. “They need an alarm on a rental property?”
He nodded. “It’s not a random rental. It belongs to a friend of mine. He moved several months ago to live with his fiancée and graciously let me stay here for an extended vacation. I’m paying him peanuts. He wouldn’t accept more.”
She wandered farther into the space as he flipped on low lighting. “I can see the appeal. It’s so cozy.”
“Go on out to the patio. Even in the evening, you can see the waves and listen to them crashing against the shore. It’s soothing. I think the moon is strong enough to give you a view.”
She dropped her purse on the large, brown, soft leather couch quickly, her feet making a beeline for the sliding glass doors off the breakfast area.
Moments later, she was outside, leaving Mike to continue gathering brain cells in her wake. He needed to snap out of it. His job was to protect her, and he couldn’t do that from inside while she kicked off her shoes and wandered down the steps and into the sand.
He raced to catch up, knowing how mesmerizing the ocean was and understanding perfectly well why she would head directly for it as if drawn by a magnet. He’d done the same thing four days ago.
Rushing, he kicked off his own shoes, tugged off his socks, and jogged down the steps to catch up with her.
She didn’t stop until her feet were buried in the wet sand at the edge of the waves. And then she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. After several deep breaths, she spoke. “God, I miss this. I don’t live that far from the ocean. It’s ridiculous that I don’t make it to the beach more often. It’s so relaxing.”
She didn’t glance his direction, but she had sensed he was nearby. She’d always been sensitive like that. Which would help keep her alive when push came to shove.
“Are you hungry?” he asked to make conversation. They’d eaten in the airport.
“No. I’m good.” She lowered her gaze slowly but not to meet his. Instead, she stared at the crashing waves. Suddenly she turned around, marching back to the house. “I think I’ll go to bed. I’m exhausted. And I need to read a deposition before I fall asleep.”
She was going to read something that boring in bed? He followed her back to the house, grabbed her suitcase, and led her down the short hallway, pointing to the right. “You can take this bedroom. I’m right down the hall.” He nodded that direction next. “Bathroom’s there.” He indicated the guest bath with a flick of his wrist as he set her suitcase inside the bedroom.
“Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning.” She still didn’t look at him as she slid into the room and shut the door softly behind her.
Mike’s heart pounded in his chest from her proximity and the knowledge she was still feet away from him. His first love—the only woman he’d ever truly loved—was in this perfect vacation home with him, nothing but a door separating them.
A door and a world of hurt.
His brain told him to keep their relationship strictly business. Protect her at all costs and go his own way afterward. His heart told him to grab her shoulders, force her to meet his gaze, and delve into the depths of her eyes to see if there was a glimmer of the love they’d felt for each other still simmering.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, he turned toward the kitchen to lock the doors and set the alarm. It wasn’t late. It was only seven. He sat at the kitchen table, powered up his computer, and entered the private message room where he knew he could have a secure conversation with the man who owned this house.
John “Tex” Keegan wasn’t simply some old friend. He was also a retired SEAL. He’d been wounded in battle himself and then spent years in this amazing beach house working behind the scenes for the military, the FBI, and the CIA. Anyone who needed computer assistance knew who to call.
It wasn’t until he met and rescued a woman who became his fiancée that he’d ventured out of his self-imposed shell. And now, he was a new man.
Mike had spoken to Tex many times over the years. The guy was a computer genius. If it needed to be hacked, he could do it. Though the two of them had never officially met, they had a common bond in their SEAL background and their desire to save the world from itself.
When Mike had sent Tex a message last night, letting him know how totally fucked his vacation was, they’d ended up on a secure line discussing the possibilities.
Although Mike would never be able to reveal his contact to anyone, he gave Tex enough information for it to be obvious Mike was taking a job for a secret CIA operation. Tex wouldn’t ask questions about who his contact was, but he was embedded deep enough in government issues that he understood the gravity of the situation. Time to fill him in on the last twelve hours.
Mike: Tex, you there?
Tex: Yep. Did you make it back to the house okay?
Mike: Yeah.
Tex: I can practically hear your sigh through the message board. Lol
Mike: You aren’t wrong. This is going to be the hardest assignment of my life. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the job. Someone else could have done it. She never would have known the difference.
Tex: That bad? Did she read you the riot act?
Mike: No. Worse. She hasn’t mentioned a thing. It’s like we’re strangers.
Tex: Ouch. Hang in there. She’s shocked. You’ve known she was the person you were sent to protect since last night. I assume she was blindsided upon your arrival?
Mike: Definitely.
Tex: Listen, I did some digging. Whoever is after your woman is smart. He’s hard to nail down. He cleans up his trails.
Mike flinched as he read the words your woman. As if Zola were his. That would never happen.
Mike: Appreciate the effort. It’s above and beyond, man.
Tex wasn’t even getting paid. The man seemed to get off on solving crimes from his laptop though. He’d never turned Mike down for anything.
Tex: Well, if you get any more information, shoot it my way. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can crack this open.
Mike: Thanks. Later.
Tex: Later.
Great. A dead end didn’t give Mike any sense that this job would be quick. The longer he spent with Zola, the harder it would be to keep himself from falling for her all over again.