The Object of His Protection - Brenda Jackson [20]
Jeez! She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. First she was forced to take time off her job and now she was forced to move in with the person responsible for her predicament. She was trying hard to control her anger, but it wasn’t working.
The only thing working was the achy feeling in the pit of her stomach at the mere thought of sharing living quarters with Drey. Remembering all the words she had spouted earlier, she felt trapped between a rock and a hard place with no way out. More to the point, she felt as if she would be held hostage. Just the thought that he would have his eyes on her, watching her practically every minute, her every move, didn’t sit well with her. For crying out loud, it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard…but at the same time just as he’d said, it was the only way to ensure her safety.
Not liking the very thought of that, she crossed the room to her closet and flung open the door. She didn’t want to become indebted to Drey for making her the object of his protection, and at the moment she preferred not to feel she owed him anything.
She went through her clothes, wondering what she should take and what she should leave behind. Certain outfits were a must, but then a few others she felt would send Drey the wrong message and she refused to give the man any more ideas than he already had.
A short while later she had loaded everything she felt she needed into the luggage she had taken from underneath her bed. Suddenly everything inside her tensed and she glanced around to find Drey standing casually in the doorway.
She inhaled sharply, trying not to stare. Today he wore boots, a pair of jeans and a blue chambray shirt. His height made him appear taller and his stance exuded lethal sexuality in a way that was heating up the blood flowing through her veins. Earlier at the café when she had looked up and watched him approach her table in a walk that was sexier than anything she’d ever seen, she had been forced to expel a calming breath. She talked with surefire confidence around him when deep down she knew she’d have to watch her guard or she would be in trouble. The last thing she needed was to live under the same roof with a man who got on her nerves one minute and had the ability to cause havoc with her hormones the next.
“Need help with anything?”
Charlene inhaled deeply, forcing herself to relax, but found doing so rather difficult. His deep voice felt like silk across her skin, caressing her in places she rather not think about. She was beginning to regard him as a risk she should avoid taking. The man had all but stated—and in explicit terms—what he would do to her if given the chance. But she was determined to make sure nothing happened between them, no matter how tempting the thought. “No, thank you, I can handle things myself.”
He straightened away from the doorway to move into the room, coming to a stop by the bed. “I’m not so sure that you can. This luggage is a lot bigger than you are.”
“I can handle it,” she said, zipping up the luggage while struggling to keep calm. Sexual chemistry was becoming a constant between them and she wished it would go away, find someone else to torture.
She reached to pull the luggage off the bed the same time Drey did. Their hands touched and she jerked back as if she had been scorched.
“Drey,” she said brusquely. “I told you I could handle it.”
“Yes, and I recall saying the luggage was as big as you are and that I would help.”
Charlene took a step back away from the bed. “Then by all means, flex your muscles. After all, I’m just a weak woman who can’t do anything for herself.”
Drey cocked his head and stared at her with a bit of hardness in his eyes. “What you can do is remove that chip off your shoulder, Charlene.”
With his statement her anger lost some of its punch. Was she acting as if she had a chip on her shoulder? If so, she had good