Protector for Hire by Tawna Fenske Page B

up.
    …
    The image of Janelle pleasuring herself in the darkness was still burned into Schwartz’s brain the next day. And the next day. And the day after that.
    As the week dragged on, it got harder and harder to keep his distance. He was as polite as he could be, making small talk over dinner and even allowing her back into the office to work since the light was better for her graphic design projects.
    But all he had to do was recall that soft little gasp on the phone, the breathy moan she thought he couldn’t hear. He could only imagine what she’d looked like as she threw her head against the pillow and slid her fingers between her legs.
    Truth be told, he imagined it a lot.
    It was ridiculous. He had no idea how much longer he could keep his hands off her, but he had to figure out a way to do it. From what Grant reported, Jacques wasn’t giving up his search for his ex-wife. The police were involved, of course, but they’d already failed several times to get the situation under control. Jacques was too slippery, too good at not getting caught.
    It was no wonder Janelle hadn’t figured out right away what sort of man she’d married. The guy was good, Schwartz had to give him that.
    By Friday morning with Janelle bare-legged and sucking the tip of her pen at the other end of the desk, Schwartz was running low on resolve.
    He was also running low on groceries. He shoved his keyboard aside and turned to face her. “I need to go into town today.”
    She looked up, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Can I come?”
    She could come pretty easily from what he’d heard on the other side of the wall, but that probably wasn’t what she meant.
    “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said. “About whether you’re safer here alone, or with me.”
    “With you. Definitely with you.”
    “I’d be flattered, except that I know the real reason you’re jonesing to go.”
    She stood up, beaming. “I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll wear my disguise and keep to myself. But I’d seriously sell a kidney for a decent cup of coffee right now.”
    “I don’t think they take payment in kidneys,” Schwartz said, getting to his feet. “Be ready to go in ten minutes.”
    “Thank you, Schwartz!” Before he could say anything, she’d launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him in a surprisingly ferocious bear hug. He meant to step back and push her away, but his arms went around her by instinct and pulled her tight. He was still reeling when she let go and turned to scurry toward the door.
    He patted himself on the back for making a damn good effort not to notice the jiggling going on under her T-shirt.
    An hour later, he led her out to the truck. He opened the passenger door and offered her a hand up into the cab before moving around to the other side and sliding behind the wheel. “Explain to me again how it can take you fifty minutes to get ready,” he said as he shoved the key into the ignition.
    “I had to do my hair.”
    “You’re wearing a wig.”
    “And I had to fix my makeup.”
    “Your sunglasses take up half your face.”
    “And I needed to find something to wear.”
    “You brought enough clothes to outfit a small African nation.”
    She grinned at him from the passenger seat. “Thanks for taking me with you, Schwartz.”
    He grunted. “Buckle your seat belt.”
    He drove most of the way in silence, though every once in a while he’d stop to point out a landmark or a buffalo or a path to the creek that snaked through the woods around his cabin. He’d agreed to skip the blindfold this time, knowing she’d never be able to describe the twists and turns and back roads making up the fifty-mile stretch between the cabin and the closest town. Three Creeks was a little over an hour away, and they bumped along the gravel road in companionable quiet for most of the way.
    He was aware of her, though. His chest tightened every time she smiled or laughed or touched his arm to point out a