Protecting Plain Jane by Julie Miller

sotto-voce curse, he moved it away. He bent his knees, hunching down to bring his gaze more even with hers. “Why did you get out of the car in the first place? The plan was to take you up to the site after the procession had left.”
    “But he said the plans had changed—”
    “Who said? The driver?” He swung his gaze toward Bud, patting his chest where the letter was hidden. “You think he sent this?”
    “He’s wearing a uniform.”
    “Miss Mayweather?” a voice shouted from the other side of the road. “Does today’s visit mean you’re coming out of seclusion?”
    “That’s Jackson’s daughter?”
    “How does she look?”
    Charlotte’s world shrank to the wall of black Kevlar in front of her face as Trip straightened and shouted a second warning to the reporters clamoring for the scoop of the day. She couldn’t tell if he was moving or if she was the one drifting closer when the cameras started flashing.
    “Is your driver’s murder part of another threat against your family?” one reporter asked.
    “Oh, my God.” It was definitely her who had taken that step away from the limelight. “I don’t want the Eames family to hear any of this today. It was a mistake to come.”
    “Miss Mayweather—hurry.” Bud was waving her toward the limo’s open door.
    “This is crazy.” Trip grumbled his frustration and released her to pick up Max and drop all twenty-five pounds of him into her arms. Instead of pushing her toward the car, he tucked her to his side and hustled her in the opposite direction, half lifting her so that her toes touched the bricks and asphalt only every third step or so. “I guess you two are stuck with me.”
    “Stop. Where are you taking me? Put me down.”
    “I’m obeying an order.”
    Too close. Too fast. She couldn’t breathe. She needed to think. Charlotte squiggled her hips and pushed with her elbow. If she let Max go, maybe she could free herself. But if she let go, there’d be nothing between her and Trip Jones. “You’re not listening to me.”
    “You can have Bud or those reporters or me.”
    Somewhere between the sensations of chilled toes and warm man, she’d missed seeing just how far he’d taken her. Her feet scraped the ground as he wedged her back against the side of a heavy-duty black pickup truck. Max was squirming, woofing under his breath at the flashes of light that warned the reporters were pursuing them, but Trip put an arm beneath hers to keep the dog in place as he pulled out a set of keys. The lock beeped and he had the door open before she pulled away from his helping hand and her fear found its voice. “I feel like I’m being kidnapped again.”
    “What?” He retreated half a step, his eyes narrowing, perhaps judging her sincerity, perhaps deeming her a lunatic. “If you want to be safe, get in. Hell, I’ll give you the damn keys and you can drive if you’ll just move.”
    “I don’t have a license anymore. I can’t drive. I’m afraid we’re at a standoff.” Instead of voicing the argument that rounded his lips, he put his hands on her waist and lifted her and Max into the truck. “Hey!”
    After tossing aside a paperback novel that had been sitting on the seat, he reached across her and fastened the seat belt around her. “Now get down before those cameras or someone else gets a clean shot at you.”
    He gave her a split second to pull Max out of the way before he closed the door and jogged around the truck to climb in behind the wheel. Charlotte’s fingers toyed with the handle then hesitantly reached down to pull the paperback from the floorboard. She ran her fingers over one of her favorite titles as she folded it shut. “You bent your book cover.”
    Trip reached across the center console and snatched the book from her hands, tossing it onto the folding seat behind him. “It’s been a long time since anyone made me think I was some kind of stupid bully.”
    Feeling trapped but a fraction more secure in here than she did