The Protectors: Defending His Own / Guarding Jeannie. BEVERLY BARTON

pacing back and forth just inside the office entrance. The fresh-faced kid looked like a posted sentry marching back and forth.

      When Ashe opened the door, the deputy spun around, taking a defensive pose, then relaxed when he recognized Ashe.

      “No problems here, Mr. McLaughlin. Not even a phone call or a letter.”

      “Good. Tell Sheriff Blaylock that I said you did a fine job. Thanks—” Ashe glanced at the boy’s name tag “—Deputy Regan.”

      The young man grinned from ear to ear. “Ms. Vaughn’s taking care of some personal business right now, but she agreed to keep her door open so she wouldn’t be out of my sight.”

      Ashe slapped the deputy on the back. “I’ll take over now. I appreciate your diligence in keeping Ms. Vaughn safe for me.”

      Ashe noticed Deborah in her office, standing to the side of another woman, whose back was to him. Deborah glanced at him, her face solemn.

      The young deputy backed out of the office like a servant removing himself from the presence of his king. Ashe nodded a farewell to the boy, then focused all his attention on Deborah and the other woman.

      He heard a rather loud hiss, then someone cleared their throat. Looking around, he saw Annie Laurie motioning for him to come to her.

      “What’s up?”

      “Shh…shh.” She flapped her hands in the air and shook her head. “Whitney Jamison—” Annie Laurie pointed to Deborah’s office “—is in there right now. She came prancing in here with her nose in the air, looking all over the place for you.”

      Ashe sat down on the edge of Annie Laurie’s desk, leaned over and whispered, “What makes you think she was looking for me?”

      “She said so, that’s how I know.” Annie Laurie kept her voice low. “She took one look at the deputy and asked what he was doing here. Deborah told her he was on temporary guard duty. Then Whitney asked what was the problem, had you already deserted her? Then that bitch laughed. I wish Deborah had slapped her face.”

      “Aren’t you overreacting just a little?”

      “No, I don’t think I am. Do you suppose for one minute that Whitney will let Deborah forget that you once asked Whitney to marry you and she dumped you, that she made you look like a fool?”

      “Maybe I’d better go on in there and make sure there’s not a catfight.” Ashe grinned.

      “Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Annie Laurie said. “Deborah Vaughn is not the type of lady to get into a catfight over any man, not even you, cousin dear.”

      Ashe laughed, but took note of Annie Laurie’s words. She was right. Deborah wasn’t the catfight type by any stretch of the imagination. But if she was, and she did choose to go one-on-one with Whitney, he’d place all his money on Deborah.

      Ashe walked into Deborah’s office, stopping directly behind Whitney, who was obviously unaware of his presence.

      “It’s going to be a delightful evening. Simply everyone will be there. You must come. If you don’t, I’ll never forgive you. After all, George’s fortieth birthday celebration should be something for him to remember.”

      “Of course I’ll be there,” Deborah said. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

      Deborah looked over her cousin’s shoulder, making direct eye contact with Ashe, who couldn’t seem to erase the lopsided grin off his face. The very sound of Whitney’s voice grated on his nerves. Why had he never noticed how whiny she sounded?

      “You mean we’ll be there, don’t you?” Ashe stepped to one side, placing himself beside Deborah’s desk.

      Whitney spun around, a cascade of long black curls bouncing on her shoulders, settling against her pink silk blouse. “Ashe!”

      She stared at him, her eyes hungry, her mouth opening and then closing as she bit down on her bottom lip. Whitney Vaughn Jamison was still beautiful, erotically beautiful with her dark hair and eyes and slender, delicate body.

      Over the years there had been a few times when he’d wondered how he’d feel if he ever saw her again. Now he knew. He didn’t feel a damned thing. Except maybe grateful she’d rejected him. Despite her beauty, there was a noticeable hardness in her face, a lack of depth in those big, brown eyes. He’d been too young and foolish to have seen past the surface eleven years ago.

      “Whitney, you haven’t changed a bit.” It was only a small lie, a partial lie. She’d grown older, harder, hungrier.

      “Well, darling, you’ve certainly changed. You’ve gotten bigger and broader and even better looking.” Rushing over to him, she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him boldly on the mouth.

      She all but melted into him. Ashe did not return her kiss. He eased her arms from around his neck, held her hands in his for a brief moment, then released her and took a step over toward Deborah.

      “What’s this big event you’ve invited Deborah and me to attend? Something special for ol’ George’s birthday?” Ashe took another step in Deborah’s direction.

      “His fortieth birthday.” Whitney pursed her lips into a frown. “And he’s being a beast about getting older. I think it really bothers him that I’m so much younger.”

      “Not that much younger,” Ashe said. “If I recall, you’re thirty-four.”

      Whitney gasped, then smiled and purred as she gave Ashe another hungry look. “Of course you’d remember. You probably remember a lot of things about me, don’t you, Ashe?”

      “Not really, Whitney. To be honest, I haven’t given you more than a passing thought over the years.”

      Ashe slipped his arm around Deborah’s waist. Glaring at him, she opened her mouth to protest. He tightened his hold on her. She wriggled, trying to free herself.

      “Deborah, on the other hand, I never forgot.” He pulled her close to his side, smiled at her and barely kept himself from laughing out loud when he saw the stricken look on her face.

      “Well, don’t tell me you were cheating on me with my little cousin behind my back.” Whitney pasted a phony smile on her heavily made-up face.

      “Sort of like the way you cheated on me with George?” Ashe asked.

      “That was years ago. Surely you don’t still hold that against me?” Whitney fidgeted with the shoulder strap on her beige leather purse.

      “Whitney, I appreciate your stopping by to invite me—” Deborah gasped when Ashe squeezed her around the waist “—us to George’s birthday party.” She glared at Ashe. “We’ll be there.”

      “I’ll be looking forward to seeing you again, Ashe. The party’s at the country club.” Whitney’s genuine smile returned with a vengeance.

      When she didn’t receive the reaction from Ashe she’d hoped to evoke, she waved at him with her index finger. “Until next Saturday night.”

      The moment Whitney exited the office, Deborah jerked out of Ashe’s embrace, stormed across the room and slammed the door.

      “Just what was that all about?” Deborah anchored her hands on her hips.

      “I think your cousin was coming on to me. What do you think?”

      “Of course, she was coming on to you. My God, I expected her to drag you down on my desk and jump on top of you at any minute.”

      Ashe chuckled, then coughed and covered his mouth when he noticed Deborah’s face reddening and her eyes widening.

      “I was not referring to the way Whitney threw herself at you,” Deborah said. “I was talking about your dragging me into your arms, accepting her invitation on our behalf and telling her that I was the one you never forgot.”

      “Oh,