The Object of His Protection Read Free Page B

with her hair twisted on top of her head in a ball. Now she was standing up and wearing a skirt and blouse with a mass of long light brown hair flowing around her shoulders. In his opinion the entire package was sexy.
    Desire flowed hot and heavy through his veins and he downplayed his rapid breathing when he said, “So, what’s a nice-looking girl like you doing home on a night like tonight? Why don’t you have a date?”
    Charlene’s glare deepened. It was the same question her mother had asked her when she’d called earlier tonight. Nina Anderson-Smallwood-Caldwell-Olson actually thought a woman’s life centered on a man. But after four marriages Charlene wasn’t surprised her mother would think that. Her father was just as bad with wife number three. Since her parents seemed happy with their lives, she left them alone to do as they pleased and reminded them of their pledge on her twenty-first birthday to do likewise with her.
    “I don’t have a date because I don’t want a date, so now give me the wax kit before I change my mind,” she said, extending her hand back to him, hoping he didn’t pull what he had before and take her hand again. His touch evoked feelings within her, unfamiliar feelings, feelings she could very well do without. When she was around him, a keen physical yearning seem to overtake her common sense, but she always fought to ignore it.
    “Okay, here,” he said, placing the item in her hand. She glanced down at it. He was right. It did resemble a small makeup compact.
    “You want me to show you how to use it?”
    She looked up at him. Was he looking for any excuse to come inside? She immediately dissed the thought. Why should he? Besides, she was certain she wasn’t his type anyway. “No, I think I can handle it. It should be easy.”
    “It is. But even if it weren’t I have a feeling you’d be able to handle it. In fact, Charlene Anderson, I think you can handle just about anything and anyone.”
    Another compliment—one laced with sexual innuendo? Or was she imagining things? Letting her mind jump to all kinds of conclusions? No, she decided after looking into his eyes, she wasn’t imagining things. She might be a virgin but she wasn’t naive. They had a routine of giving each other a hard time, but she was smart enough to recognize the sexual tension that existed between them.
    Even now.
    Was he throwing out a challenge? Could she handle him? She wanted to wrap her arms around herself to ward off the yearning she felt, but then she quickly decided that she had a right to experience these things. She was a woman, after all, and Drey was definitely a man who could make an impression on a woman. She didn’t know any female who wouldn’t be affected by the sheer maleness of him. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Both showed off an ultrafine body, one that probably spent a lot of time in a gym messing around with all kinds of machinery with the sole purpose of staying in shape. She could tell that whatever clothes he wore he was well-toned and filled them out with masculine perfection.
    She suddenly felt the need to retreat, instinctively aware of a need to protect herself from him and from the things he was making her feel. But then another part of her wanted to explore those feelings, to discover—up to a point—all the things she hadn’t experienced yet. Was she prepared for such a discovery?
    “If you’re certain I don’t need to show you anything, I’ll be going.”
    His words flowed through her mind, and her body picked up on the sensuality that laced his words. Again she wondered if she was imagining things. She studied his eyes. The slant in their shape made them look sexy and—Was that desire she saw in their dark depths? She shook her head, certain she was imagining things now. But then…
    “Would you like to come inside for a drink, Drey?”
    She inwardly flinched at the question, sure he had been asked that a thousand times by different