Under His Protection by Karen Erickson

nonchalant attitude toward her should be considered an
Oscar-worthy performance. Every single time he looked at her, said
something to her, she acted completely offended. Baffled.
    He was baffled too. Baffled he could keep up
the pretense and not give in to his baser instincts. They were
screaming at him to forget everything and kiss her. Wrap her in his
arms and hold that hot little body close, learn her every dip and
curve with his fingers, his mouth.
    But he didn’t give in. He continued to act
as if she didn’t affect him. He didn’t have a choice.
    This was a job. He couldn’t risk putting
Blake in danger. And since all he could think of when he looked at
her were the dirty, extremely satisfying things he wanted to do to
her, he knew he needed to get out of here.
    The second they got back to the cabin, he
was calling Jerry and begging for a switch. He’d owe him big time.
He’d give his partner pretty much anything he wanted if he just did
him this one favor.
    It would save his sanity. It would save
Blake from himself.
    “I would prefer if you didn’t follow so
closely when I go into town,” Blake finally said, her voice soft,
though he knew it was deceptive. The thin line of steel just
beneath the petal softness of her words told him she was angry.
    Perfect. He’d rather have her angry versus
hot for him.
    “I promise I’ll be more discreet.” Look, he
was the poster child of politeness, how unusual. It was easy now,
with relief looming on the horizon.
    Twenty-four hours, maybe a little longer and
he’d be out of here. Away from the exquisite torture that was Blake
Hewitt.
    “Yes, I’d prefer that.” She sounded
genuinely surprised. “Thank you, Mason.”
    They turned onto the gravelly drive that led
to the cabins and Mason slowed his stride, observing her from
behind. Like the pervert he was, his gaze immediately zeroed in on
her tight ass and he shook his head.
    Maybe if he appreciated her for more than
just her body, he might get over the lusty thoughts. Having an
actual conversation with her versus merely listening to her go on
about her troubles could help. At least get his mind off lusting
after her for the next day or so.
    Nah. He doubted it would help. No matter if
he got to know her better—and he already thought he knew her pretty
well—he would still have the same sex-filled thoughts. Really
getting to know her, actually forming an emotional attachment would
only make it worse.
    “I need to make a couple of phone calls.
Buzz me if you need me,” he said gruffly, veering toward the front
door of the small cottage he stayed at.
    Calling Jerry in there would ensure him the
privacy he needed. No way could he have Blake hear this particular
conversation.
    “Fine. Whatever,” she said over her
shoulder, not even bothering to look at him.
    Shit. That kind of hurt. Maybe she was
doling out a bit of his own medicine.
    He went into the cottage and pulled his cell
phone out of his pocket. Hitting Jerry’s number on speed dial, he
paced the living room while the phone rang, anxiety eating him up
inside. Jerry finally answered on the third ring. Mason had never
been so happy to hear his partner and friend’s voice.
    “I need a huge favor,” he started and Jerry
laughed.
    “That bad out there?”
    “Hell, yes. Get me out of here, Jer. I’ll
owe you big time if you could trade this shift out. Work the entire
duration here on the island for me and I’ll do whatever you
want.”
    “Man, I’d love to bail you out bro. But
hell, I can’t. I’m just as trapped as you are.”
    Mason slumped into an overstuffed chair,
rubbing the tips of his fingers across his eyebrows. “Why not?”
    “My wife needs me here. She’s having surgery
next week. Minor, it’s no big deal, but she won’t be able to take
care of the kids and she needs me to help out around the house in
the evening.” Jerry paused. “Sorry, man. Can anyone else
cover?”
    Crap. Byron had told him why Jerry couldn’t
come with him