The Protectors. Beverly Barton

into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. A pair of small golden earrings matched the double gold chain around her neck.

      “Your mother sent for me.” Ashe noted the astonished look on her face.

      Deborah, still standing in the entrance hall, gazed at her mother. “What does he mean, you sent for him?”

      “Now, dear, please come in and let’s talk about this matter before you upset yourself.”

      “Allen, please go out in the kitchen with Mazie while I speak with Mother and Mr. McLaughlin.”

      “Ah, why do I have to leave? I’m a member of this family, aren’t I? I shouldn’t be excluded from important conversations.” When his sister remained silent, Allen looked pleadingly at his mother, who shook her head.

      “Do what Deborah says.” Carol motioned toward the hallway. “This is grown-up talk and although you’re quite a young man, you’re still not old enough to—”

      “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Allen jumped up and ran out of the room, his eyes downcast and his lips puckered into a defiant pout.

      “What’s going on?” Deborah marched into the living room, slamming her briefcase down atop Allen’s books on the antique commode. She glared at Ashe. “What are you doing here?”

      “As Ashe said, I sent for him.” Tilting her chin upward, Carol straightened her thin shoulders.

      “You what?”

      “Calm yourself,” Carol said.

      “I am calm.” Deborah spoke slowly, her teeth clenched tightly.

      “Ashe works for a private security firm out of Atlanta.” Carol readjusted her hips on the sofa, placing her hand down on the cushion beside her. “I’ve hired him to act as your bodyguard until the trial is over and you’re no longer in any danger.”

      “I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Deborah scowled at Ashe. “You’ve brought this man back into our lives. Good God, Mother, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

      “Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice, Deborah Luellen Vaughn! I’ve done what I think is best for everyone concerned.”

      “And you?” Deborah looked directly at Ashe. “Why would you come back to Sheffield after all these years? How on earth did my mother persuade you to return?” Deborah’s rosy cheeks turned pale, her lips quivered. “What—what did she tell you?”

      “I told him that your life had been threatened. I explained the basic facts.” Carol turned to Ashe. “This is what he does for a living, and I’m paying him his usual fee, isn’t that right, Ashe?”

      “This is strictly a business arrangement for me,” Ashe replied. “My services are for hire to anyone with enough money to afford me.”

      Where was the sweet girl he’d once known? The laughing, smiling girl who’d been his friend long before she’d become his lover one hot summer night down by the river. He had never regretted anything as much as he had regretted taking Deborah’s virginity. He’d been filled with rage and half drunk. Deborah had been with him that night, trying to comfort him, and he had taken advantage of her loving nature. But she’d paid him back.

      “I don’t want you here. Keep a week’s salary for your trouble.” Deborah nodded toward the door. “Now, please leave.”

      “No!” Reaching out, Carol grabbed Ashe by the arm. “Please, don’t leave. Go in the kitchen and have some cookies with Allen.”

      “Mother! Think what you’re saying.”

      “Please, Ashe. Go out into the kitchen for a few minutes while I speak with Deborah.”

      Ashe patted Carol on the hand, then pulled away from her. “I won’t leave, Miss Carol. It would take an act of congress to get me out of Sheffield.”

      He smiled at Deborah when he walked past her, halting briefly to inspect her from head to toe, then proceeding down the hallway and through the door leading to the kitchen.

      Heat and cold zigzagged through Deborah like red-hot and freezing blue shafts of pain. Ashe McLaughlin. Here in Sheffield. Here in her home. And he’d seen Allen!

      “He can’t stay.”

      “Come over here, dear.” Carol patted the sofa seat. “You’ve needed him for such a long time, Deborah, but now more than ever. You know I disagreed with your father’s assessment of Ashe, but I loved your father and never would have gone against his wishes. But once Wallace died, I begged you to let me contact Ashe. He’s kept in touch with Mattie all these years. We could have asked him to come home at any time.”

      “He kept in touch with his grandmother, not with us. He left this town and didn’t look back. He never once called me or wrote me or…” Deborah crossed the room, slumped down on the sofa beside her mother and folded her hands in her lap. “I need to phone the office and let them know I won’t be back in this afternoon. I had planned to just drop Allen off, but I saw the car in the drive and wondered who…I don’t want Ashe McLaughlin here.”

      “But I do.” Carol’s blue eyes met her daughter’s blue eyes, stubborn, determined and equally strong. “We both know that I’m only in remission. The cancer could worsen at any time and I’ll have to go in for more surgery. I could die without ever seeing you happy.”

      “You honestly think Ashe McLaughlin can make me happy? Get real, Mother.” Deborah lowered her voice to a snarling whisper. “The man seduced me when I was seventeen, dropped me like a hot potato and left town two months later, never bothering to find out whether or not he’d gotten me pregnant.”

      “I think you should know that—”

      “If you’re convinced I need a bodyguard then have the private security agency send someone else. Tell them we want someone older or younger or…Hell! Tell them anything, but get rid of Ashe.”

      “I believe he still cares about you.” Carol smiled, deepening the faint lines in her face.

      “Mother!”

      “It’s been eleven years, Deborah, and you haven’t had one serious relationship in all that time. Doesn’t that tell you anything about your own feelings?”

      “Yes. It tells me that I’m a smart girl. I learn from my mistakes.”

      “It tells me that you’ve never gotten over Ashe McLaughlin, that somewhere deep down, in your heart of hearts, you’re still in love with him.”

      Deborah couldn’t bear it. Her mother’s words pierced the protective wall she had built around her heart. She didn’t love Ashe McLaughlin. She hated him. But she knew only too well how fine a line there was between love and hate.

      “I’ve hardly had time to date, let alone find the man of my dreams. Have you forgotten that I was in my senior year of college when Daddy died and I had to complete my courses for my degree and step in at Vaughn & Posey?” Deborah paused, waiting for her mother to comment. Carol said nothing.

      “Then I had to earn my Realtors’ license and work damn hard to fill Daddy’s shoes at the firm,” Deborah said. “Over the last few years while other firms have floundered, I’ve kept Vaughn & Posey in the black, making substantial gains each year. Over the last five years, we’ve been involved in two different subdivision developments.”

      Carol held up her hand, signaling acquiescence. “I know what a busy young woman you’ve been. But other people lead busy lives and still find time for romance.”

      “I don’t need any romance in my life. Have you also forgotten how my foolishly romantic illusions about love nearly destroyed my life eleven years ago?”

      “Of course I haven’t forgotten. But there’s more at stake than my desire to see you and Ashe settle things between you. Your life is in danger—real danger. Charlie Blaylock can