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“What happened this morning cannot happen again,” he says, never breaking eye contact. “You broke rules one through four, and it’s barely eight in the morning.”
“Give me time, and I’m sure I can break a few more by lunch,” I blurt, mostly out of nervousness. My voice is a little louder than I meant it to be, but I’m having a hard time controlling anything, let alone the volume of my voice.
Keaton frowns at me, but I swear I saw a glint of amusement in his golden gaze. I’ll take it. He drops his hand from the back of my neck and takes a step back as if I suddenly burned him. Like yesterday, I’m freezing now that he’s not touching me.
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, and I won’t allow you to pull another stunt like you did at your apartment earlier.”
Oh, hell no. He won’t allow me?
I feel the anger rising from deep inside me as I remember all the times I was controlled growing up. However, I can’t open that can of worms right now, so I plaster on my brightest smile. I love how it confuses Keaton.
“It’s my job to keep you on your toes,” I reply.
The man blinks at me a few times, then frowns. I didn’t think his eyebrows could get any angrier, but they’re so bunched together now that they look like one big unibrow. Still sexy, though. Dammit.
“That’s the opposite of your job,” he growls.
That sound should scare me, but I find myself responding to it in the most inappropriate way. I squeeze my thighs together, hoping to find some relief from the dull, throbbing ache in my core.
“Your job is to follow my orders so I can keep you safe,” he states. “End of story.”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares down at me. I put my hands on my hips and square off with this equally bossy and sexy man.
“I don’t respond well to people ordering me around,” I inform him, putting on my best scowl. “I’ve had enough of men telling me how to behave, women telling me how to fit in, foster parents yelling about me not doing enough or being enough, and... I just... I’m...” I trail off, trying to catch my breath. I didn’t realize how worked up I was, or apparently, how triggering it would be to be “ordered” to do something.
Keaton stands silently beside me, not saying anything, while I take a few calming breaths. He doesn’t push or pry; he simply exists next to me as a solid, unwavering presence until I feel somewhat in control of my body again.
“You need someone to protect you the same way you’re protecting the ocean,” Keaton says after a beat of silence. I turn my head in his direction, our eyes meeting. He looks a little softer now, less prickly and sharp. “I’m not trying to control you, Roxy. I understand that you’re wild and untamed, like the sea you love so much.”
I can’t look away from Keaton. No one has ever listened and understood me with so few words.
“My goal is to keep you safe,” he continues. “I can’t do that if I don’t know where you are. Do you understand?”
I nod. “I’m not used to people caring about where I am or why,” I admit for some reason.
“I know,” is all he says. It’s enough.
“So, um, have you–”
We’re interrupted by a knock on the open conference room door. I jerk my head in that direction, smiling at Cindy, our receptionist.
“The donors are ready for you in the Sand Dollar conference room,” she tells me, a small smile curling up the corner of her lips. She darts her eyes between Keaton and me with a knowing look.
“Thanks, Cindy,” I tell her, not wanting her to assess me any further. I have no idea why I’m reacting to Keaton this way, but I don’t want to share my feelings with Cindy, however sweet she may be.
She nods and steps out into the hallway to return to her desk. I turn my back to Keaton, not sure what to say. As I gather everything I’ll need for my presentation, I mentally rehearse the first few lines.
“Roxy,” comes Keaton’s deep, rich voice. I freeze in place, turning slowly to face my bodyguard. I have to brace myself for the impact of his stare. He’s a force of nature, much like the ocean itself. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him. “If you’re half as passionate and well-spoken in your presentation as you were in your practice run, you’re going to knock ‘em dead.”
I’m shocked by his compliment, my mouth opening and closing like a confused fish until I nod and tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. I have no response, so I shuffle around him and step across the hall to the correct room.
Before closing the door, I look over my shoulder at Keaton, standing with his arms crossed and his eyes trained on me. I should feel exposed or uncomfortable, but truthfully, I like having his attention. I like it way too much.
Which is a problem.
I can’t get used to someone having my back, someone to listen to me and understand where I’m coming from. Plus, this is just a job for him. It’s not like the sexiest, growliest man alive would look twice at an overweight marine biologist nerd who barely makes ends meet with the paycheck from the non-profit she works at. I’m not exactly a catch.
Clearing my throat, I shove all thoughts of Keaton aside and get everything set up for my presentation. When I’m in the zone, nothing can get to me. Right now, I’m cruising through my presentation, hitting on all the most devastating effects of deep-sea fishing while weaving in my personal connection to the ocean.
