Лиза Джонс - Dangerous Secrets

Hated it and savored it all at once. Maybe she wouldn’t mind Mason being her keeper—in bed.

Irritation filled her. She really needed to stop thinking of him like that. It was pointless.

“I don’t appreciate you using that tone with me,” James admonished, his voice cold. He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, the springs creaking with the movement. “I want to talk to Russell.”

Blake lifted her chin, anger and disappointment surging through her. “Why?”

“Because clearly you can’t take care of yourself, so I’m going to ensure someone else will do it for you. When you leave, tell him I want to speak with him. Now.”

And just like that, her father dismissed her without another word. He reached for the phone on his desk, picked up the receiver and punched a few buttons, ignoring her as if she didn’t exist.

Tears prickling the corners of her eyes, she bit her bottom lip. Desperate not to show any sort of emotion in front of a man known for his cool, calm demeanor, she fled her father’s office without a backward glance.

God, she was such a fool, always wanting what she couldn’t have. Even the man she secretly wanted was the epitome of calmness. Hair never out of place, his expression always impassive, nothing ruffled Mason Russell’s feathers.

It drove her absolutely crazy.

Mason watched Blake Hewitt exit her father’s private office, her gorgeous face appearing ready to crumple. But in the blink of an eye, her mouth firmed, her eyes narrowed and he knew.

His subject was angry. And most likely her father was even angrier.

“He wants to see you,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked by, leaving behind a delicate cloud of soft, feminine scent that always, always sent his nostrils twitching.

It sent other parts of his body twitching as well.

Not that she ever knew. It was his job to look at her—and look after her too. The ever present sunglasses helped conceal the hunger in his eyes, so she’d never catch him staring at her like a dog salivating over a bone.

Like now, his gaze slid up her legs to the shift of her ass beneath the dark fabric of her jeans. Jeans that fit her sweet curves and those pretty long legs like a second skin, showcasing everything she had.

Mason shook his head. Christ, he was staring at her ass and he’d just been summoned to her father’s office. What the hell was wrong with him?

Lust for Blake Hewitt was what was wrong with him.

Sweat beading his brow, he blinked, pushed the dirty thoughts aside. He took a deep breath and walked inside James Hewitt’s office. Standing just inside the doorway, he waited for the vice president to okay Mason’s entrance with a nod of his gray head.

Hewitt finally gave it, his gaze never meeting his, the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. Mason strode inside, stopping in front of Hewitt’s impressive cherry wood desk.

“We need to talk, Russell.” Hewitt hung up the phone with a quiet click, his gaze lifting to meet Mason’s. “Were you aware of what my daughter was doing when those photos were being taken?”He waved at the magazine sitting on top of his desk. “You did accompany her when she went to this—party, correct?”

Hell yes, he’d been with her. It had been one of the most torturous days of his life. Catching glimpses of Blake having fun, smiling and laughing, it had filled him with acute longing. For her.

The two of them together would never happen, no matter how much he wanted it to.

The private gathering had been quiet. Nothing out of control, nothing unusual, and she’d assured him before they entered the residence, a close friend was the hostess. Blake had reassured him nothing was out of the ordinary that night.

She’d been wrong. And he’d been wrong not to protect her better.

Seeing her strip by the pool had nearly sent him reeling. The innocent yet sultry way she tugged off her T-shirt, how she slipped her shorts off those long, long legs. She’d pulled her long blonde hair into a sloppy ponytail, delicate strands framing her face. Seeing her like that, sexily mussed, casual and free, he’d imagined doing all sorts of wicked things to her. With her.

Years of study, of rigid discipline all going to hell because of a constant raging hard-on. He’d worked hard to get where he was at, but that bikini had nearly been his undoing.

It had taken tremendous restraint to keep in firm control. All while she strutted around the pool in little scraps of fabric that barely covered her ample assets. He’d wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her out of there, find somewhere more private.

Where he could salute her with his hard cock and tear that patriotic bikini off, one little scrap of fabric at a time. Kiss and lick her everywhere until he made her come, his name falling from her lips…

“Yes, I was there, sir.” He hadn’t realized the recent public reaction would be so vehement where Blake was concerned. But he underestimated her power, as usual.

She was attractive, engaging though quiet, a diligent worker while on the campaign trail. He had a feeling there were many who underestimated her power. And the man who sat in front of him was no exception.

“Why didn’t you put a stop to this debacle? She’s practically sent the entire campaign into the toilet with this, you know.”

Mason doubted that, but he kept his opinions to himself. “She’s a big girl, sir. I can’t interfere with her life when there’s no reason to.”

“I’m saying you have my permission to interfere in Blake’s life. On her own, she clearly doesn’t know what she’s doing. She needs your guidance, your help.” Hewitt held Mason’s gaze. “These pictures have caused considerable damage to the election. I need you to stay on top of her, keep her on the straight and narrow. You’re all I have. I need your help controlling her.”

“I thought you were aware of everything Ms. Hewitt does, sir. I don’t interfere in her personal affairs.” And damn it, half the time he’d give anything to interfere in her personal affairs—as long as they involved just the two of them. Together. Alone.

Hell. He needed to stop thinking of Blake like this. Nothing could ever come of it. Nothing. Fooling around with the vice president’s daughter would undoubtedly ruin him, career-wise.

“I know your obligations aren’t to trail her twenty-four-seven and keep constant watch, but I’m asking you personally. I’d appreciate it if you alerted me whenever Blake is getting into trouble from now on. What she’s done has plunged us into a huge mess I’m not sure we’ll be able to pull out of.”

Mason swallowed, contained the frustration that bubbled inside of him. For Hewitt to blame the campaign’s decline on his daughter was ridiculous, to put it mildly.

She may have added a very thin layer of icing but she wasn’t the entire collapsing cake.

“I’m taking her off the campaign committee and sending her away. We’re talking within a few days, maybe sooner—to the island house in California. She’ll be happier there anyway.”

Mason blinked. His stance remained rigid and he stifled the shock coursing through him. He’d been under the assumption they were staying in Washington through the election. Hewitt wanted to keep his family close for the almost daily public appearances and traveling. Plus, Blake worked for him.

“I’m concerned about her behavior, not to mention her safety. I’ve been notified of a few threats toward her resulting specifically from her appearance in the magazine,” Hewitt continued.

“I wasn’t aware of any threats, sir.” News to him and strange he hadn’t heard. He should’ve been the first person notified with such a serious matter. She was, after all, his responsibility.