The Protectors. Beverly Barton

jabbed Allen playfully in the ribs, lifted him up off the floor with one arm and rubbed his fist across the top of the boy’s head before placing him back on his feet. “You wouldn’t make fun of a guy for mooning over his girl, would you?”

      “Naw, as long as you don’t kiss her in front of me.” Putting his hand on his hip, Allen stood up straight and gave Ashe a hard look. “If I catch you kissing her, then, as the man of the house, I’d have to ask you what your intentions are, wouldn’t I?”

      “Yes, Allen, I suppose you would,” Ashe said. “So, I’ll tell you what, I’ll try to make sure I kiss Deborah when you’re not around.”

      “Will you two stop this.” Deborah tried to hug Allen, but he wriggled away from her. “What’s the matter? Have you gotten too big to give me a hug and a kiss?”

      “No, that’s not it.” Grinning, Allen swiped his hand in front of him in a negative gesture. “I’m just afraid your boyfriend will get jealous and sock me.”

      Allen broke into peals of boyish laughter. Ashe chuckled. Carol covered her mouth to hide her giggle. Deborah shook her head in mock disgust.

      “Let’s go now, Ashe, before I wind up socking Allen,” Deborah said.

      Taking the long satin jacket from where Deborah carried it across her arm, Ashe wrapped it around her shoulders. He slipped his arm about her waist and escorted her out to her repaired and newly painted Cadillac waiting in the drive.

      When he opened the door, he turned and lifted her hand to his lips. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

      He kissed her wrist. Chills shivered through her. She looked into his eyes. “Thank you.”

      He helped her into the car, rounded the Caddy and got behind the wheel. “No matter what happens tonight, there are a few things I want you to keep in mind.”

      “Such as?” Deborah smoothed the gathers in her skirt, her fingers gliding nervously over the heavy satin. She didn’t look at Ashe.

      “Such as I didn’t come back to Sheffield to protect Whitney. I wouldn’t have, for any amount of money. And I’m not staying in town because of her or issuing threats to dangerous men because of her.”

      “Did she hurt you so badly back then that you hate her now? You know they say there’s only a fine line between love and hate. Maybe you still care about her more than you’d like to admit. After all, she was your first love and—”

      Ashe grabbed Deborah so quickly that she didn’t have time to think of resisting. His kiss came so hard and fast that it obliterated every thought from her mind, filling her with the heat of his anger, the determination of his desire. His mouth devoured hers, the kiss turning from bold strength to gentle power. Her hands crept up around his neck. He stroked her waist. The satin jacket fell from her shoulders leaving them bare. Ashe allowed his lips to retreat from hers, as he nibbled at her bottom lip and tasted her chin. He lowered his head to her shoulder, his mouth closing over her soft flesh.

      Shutting her eyes and tossing back her head, Deborah moaned. “Ashe…”

      “Don’t ever try to tell me how I feel.” Lifting his head, he stared into her blue eyes. “Whitney wasn’t my first anything. I’d had a dozen girls before her. You should remember all the girls I dated. And as far as my being in love with her, I wasn’t. I was infatuated with what she represented. She represented a dream. That night at the country club when she announced her engagement, I saw my dream come to an end.”

      “Neither of us has ever been able to forget that night, have we? But for different reasons.”

      He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “If you think I’ve ever forgotten what it was like making love to you, then you’re wrong.”

      “I suppose you remember all of them, don’t you? Whitney, the dozen before her, and God only knows how many since.”

      Ashe fell backward against the soft leather of the seat, shook his head and laughed. “You’re jealous! You are honest-to-goodness jealous.”

      “I am not!” Deborah jerked the satin jacket up around her shoulders.

      “Somewhere deep down inside, Deborah Vaughn, you’re the one who still cares. I still mean something to you, don’t I?”

      Yes, she wanted to scream. Yes, you mean something to me. You are my first and only lover. You are the father of my child, the child I can never claim as my own. Oh, yes, Ashe McLaughlin, you most definitely still mean something to me.

      “I think you’re taking the part of playing my lover far too seriously.” Deborah turned around in the seat, focusing her attention on the front porch lights. “We are pretending to care about each other. That’s all.”

      “That’s not all,” Ashe said. “You asked me if I remember all the women I’ve had sex with. Well, yes, I do remember. Some more than others. But I didn’t have sex with you, Deborah.” There in the darkness his voice sounded deeper and darker and more sensuous than ever. “I made love to you. I took all that sweet, innocent passion you offered and I drowned myself in your love. I had never been in so much pain, and I had never needed a woman’s unselfish love the way I needed yours that night. Don’t you think I know that I did all the taking and you did all the giving.”

      “Please, Ashe, I don’t want—”

      “What? You don’t want to hear the truth? You don’t want to hear how much I wanted to keep on taking what you offered? How much guts it took for me to reject you? Hell, I knew I couldn’t give a girl like you what you should have. I knew the best thing I could do for you was to get out of your life and stay out.”

      “And that’s exactly what you did.” Deborah cringed at the accusatory tone of her own voice. “You couldn’t even stay in the same town with me, could you? You couldn’t hang around long enough to find—”

      Dear God, she’d been about to say find out if you’d gotten me pregnant!

      “None of this matters now, does it?” Pulling the shoulder harness across her, she snapped the seat belt in place. “If we don’t leave for the country club right now, we’re going to be more than fashionably late.”

      “Sooner or later we’ll have to finish this conversation,” Ashe said. “I think we both have quite a lot to get off our chests.”

      “It’ll have to be later.”

      “Fine.” He turned on the overhead lights. “You might want to check your makeup. I think most of your lipstick is on my mouth.” Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face.

      Deborah opened her evening bag, took out her lipstick and glanced in the mirror to see how much repair was needed. She worked quickly, trying not to notice that she looked like a woman who’d just been thoroughly kissed.

      “I’m ready,” she said.

      Ashe backed the Cadillac out of the drive and headed toward the country club.

      “Ashe McLaughlin, you old dog. I never thought I’d see you back in Sheffield.”

      Keeping his arm firmly around Deborah’s waist, Ashe jerked his head around, seeking the familiar voice. “Peanut Haygood?”

      The skinny teenage boy who’d lived down the street from Ashe’s grandmother had turned into a heavyset, bearded man wearing a uniform and carrying a gun. By the looks of old Peanut, Ashe figured he was part of the private security for George Jamison’s big birthday bash.

      “Peanut? Man, you’ve changed since the last time I saw you.”

      “Yeah, well, a guy grows up and fills out,” Peanut said. “I heard you were in town.” He nodded politely to Deborah. “Nice to see you, Ms. Vaughn. Sorry to hear about all your problems. One of these days we’re going to get the goods on Buck Stansell and put