Debra Webb - Personal Protector

No two ways about it.

“Piper!”

Speak of the devil, Piper glanced toward the news director’s office. He waved from the open door, motioning for her to join him. They’d already had their Monday-morning staff meeting; surely nothing had changed in the last hour. She hadn’t mentioned why she’d been late, and was more than a little surprised he hadn’t questioned her. She supposed that the Feds had decided to follow their own chain of command. And she could see no point in sending Dave’s blood pressure into the red this early in the morning. He’d hear about it soon enough, she felt certain. As soon as the Feds had relayed the event to Lucas, he would call Dave and rant at him again for allowing Piper to continue working the territory.

She pushed the thought away. She had to find Jones and head out. She had an interview set up with several families residing in Hope Place, the area currently suffering from serious gang problems. Next week it would be another block near that same area. It was an ever-evolving situation. But this time someone was trying to make a difference, trying to break that never-ending cycle.

Thus, a serious, in-depth look into the increasing gang problems in Atlanta’s less fortunate areas had been born. Piper planned for the story to include about five segments. And hopefully, call enough official attention to the issue to get something done. In an effort to help themselves, the families in the area now hit with the most strife had formed a neighborhood watch, which was good, but they needed far more help from local law enforcement. If telling the ugly truth on the news would get the residents that attention, Piper would take it as far as she could.

“What’s up?” Piper paused at her boss’s door and waited expectantly for whatever it was he wanted to say.

“There’s a situation we need to discuss that I didn’t want to bring up in this morning’s staff meeting.”

Dave looked too serious. He had that you’re-not-going-to-like-what-I’m-about-to-tell-you air about him. Tension raced up Piper’s spine. “What kind of situation?”

“Jones had to take an emergency leave. He’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks.”

Piper blinked, taken aback. “But I just talked to Jones last night. He didn’t mention anything to me then.”

“He didn’t know until this morning. It’s a personal family issue that he didn’t want to discuss at length. So he left for Detroit on the first available flight this morning.”

It must have been really urgent for Jones to leave without so much as a quick call to Piper. She couldn’t remember him ever doing that before. They were more than co-workers. They were friends. “I should call and see if there’s anything I can do,” she said more to herself than to Dave.

“I’m—I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Dave hemmed and hawed. “Jones gave me the impression that it was a very private matter and that he would call us when he could.”

Piper flared her hands in a gesture of bewilderment. The whole thing sounded entirely too clandestine and made absolutely no sense at all. “Well, okay, if that’s the way it has to be.”

“In the meantime I’ve got a new cameraman for you,” Dave went on. At Piper’s distressed expression, he added, “Don’t worry. He’s only temporary until Jones gets back.”

“I didn’t know we had any new temps.” Piper tried to stay on top of personnel changes at the station. It made life easier when you needed something in a hurry. And she was relatively certain that no new faces had appeared recently. Well, other than the desk assistant, but he’d been there a couple of weeks already. Tech support personnel were usually replaced by temps who had understudied to the point that their ability to do the job could be counted on. It was the first rule of the station’s manager.

“I interviewed the guy just a few minutes ago,” Dave explained. “Here he is now.” The news director shifted his gaze beyond Piper. “Martinez, I’d like to introduce you to Piper Ryan.”

Great, just what she needed, some hotshot off the street. Piper turned to greet WYBN’s newest staff member. She felt her mouth drop open the moment her gaze lit on the guy in question, but she was too stunned to snap it shut again. A tall, extraordinarily handsome man walked slowly toward her. His hair was short and raven’s-wing black. A square jaw and chiseled features lent masculinity to a face that was most accurately described by the word perfection. And then there was that body. Piper felt the air rush out of her lungs as her gaze moved over that awesome body. Broad, broad shoulders were covered in one of those black silk shirts that wasn’t tucked into his black, loose-fitting trousers, the cutting edge of fashion. The man looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ.

He definitely did not look anything like any cameraman Piper had ever met. To make matters worse, the closer he came to her, the more convinced she grew that he knew just exactly how handsome he was, too. Confidence screamed in every move that lithe, muscular frame made. His walk, his posture, every part of him exuded blatant, cocky male attitude and a kind of smooth rhythm that made her mouth go dry. But it wasn’t until he stopped directly in front of her that Piper was certain of her assumption. It was right there in those dark, devastatingly alluring eyes that said, Close your mouth, baby, ’cause I already know just how good I look.

This man didn’t belong behind a camera, Piper protested silently. He belonged in front of one decked out in Ralph Lauren’s latest. Either that or on MTV belting out a Latin pop song and showing off that to-die-for body and the seductive moves he could no doubt execute. But he damned sure didn’t look like a cameraman Piper wanted to drag around Atlanta for the next two weeks. And if his ego in any way compared to the attitude that emanated from every square inch of his unbelievable body, she wasn’t sure it would fit into the WYBN-TV news van.

“Ric Martinez,” the Latin hunk said smoothly, then extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ryan.” Just a hint of south-of-the-border flavor accented his rich baritone.

Several seconds passed before Piper had the presence of mind to place her hand in his, and when she did, she lost whatever ground she had gained. Long fingers curled around her hand, sending a shiver through her, followed immediately by a flash of heat.

“Could you excuse me, please, Mr. Martinez?” she said abruptly, yanking her hand back with equal suddenness. Swiping her tingling palm against her hip, Piper rounded on her boss and ushered him backward into his office. She waited for the door to close behind them before she spoke.

“You can’t be serious,” she demanded in a stage whisper.

Dave frowned, then glanced at Martinez who waited outside the glass walls of his office. “I don’t see the problem,” he countered as his concerned gaze came back to rest on Piper’s. “Hell, he’s more than qualified. I called every single one of his references before I even interviewed him.”

Piper immediately suppressed the ridiculous quivering her insides seemed determined to do at the mere thought of that…that…Martinez. “Look at how he’s dressed.” Piper stole a glance at the tall, handsome man waiting patiently outside the office. “He looks like he’s about to stride down a fashion runway or pick up a hot Saturday night date, but he definitely doesn’t look like a cameraman. At least not my cameraman.” Jeans and T-shirts were Jones’s favorite fashion statement.

Dave’s brow furrowed with impatience. He hated conflict. Especially among the members of his staff, temporary or not. “You know I’ve never dictated dress unless you’re in front of the camera. So the guy’s a little flashy. What’s the big deal?”