Because a Husband Is Forever

But not today.

Positioning herself so that he was forced to see only her, she tried again. “Look, the process is a lot easier if you forget about the audience and just talk to me,” she coaxed. “Tell me why I’d want to hire your firm instead of some other. Most important, I want the audience to understand the difference between what you do and what they’ve seen in the movies.”

“I get it. Kind of like reality TV,” Randy interjected.

Her eyes shifted to Randy’s face for a moment. “Something like that.”

Instincts she’d been blessed with told her that she would undoubtedly have a better show, or at least a better chance of attaining one, if she directed her questions and the interview toward tree man’s partner. Unless she missed her guess, Randy Taylor seemed to be a live wire, capable of talking the ears off an African elephant.

But she was her parents’ stubborn daughter. Given a choice, she had never picked the easier way. If she had, she’d be lolling on some absurd flotation device in her parents’ Beverly Hills pool, absorbing the California sun and letting life just drift by.

She lived for challenges, and right now the close-mouthed Ian Russell was her challenge. Besides, although both men were notably good-looking, it was Ian Russell who rightfully earned the label of tall, dark and handsome.

Dark. Dakota couldn’t help wondering if that went clear down to his soul. From the look in his eyes, she was willing to bet that it did.

The show’s director caught her eye and nodded. Which meant her introduction was coming. She gave the bodyguard’s arm a quick squeeze.

“My cue’s coming up,” she said suddenly. “Zee will send you two out as soon as I announce your names.” She paused to add, “Remember, this is going to be fun.” With this, Dakota vanished from the small space, leaving him behind the curtain with Randy and the production assistant.

Ian frowned. It was obvious that he and the incredibly perky blonde had completely different definitions of the word fun. To be honest, he wasn’t sure if he defined anything as fun. The absence of tension was good enough for him. And right now he wished he was in that state.

It annoyed him that he could feel his adrenaline kicking in. That was supposed to happen when he was faced with a fight-or-flight situation, not because he was going to be sitting on some overly warm soundstage, looking into the eyes of some motor-mouth talk-show hostess while he was waiting to be humiliated.

Actually, that had already happened. And it would only get worse.

He looked at his partner accusingly. “Don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” he growled, his deep voice even lower.

Unfazed, Randy shook his head. “Because, at bottom you know I’m right.”

“At bottom,” Ian echoed. The soft buzz of the woman’s voice floated backstage. He couldn’t make out the words, only that the audience was laughing in response. His discomfort grew.

“Right now I’d rather be at the bottom of some lake than waiting to be stripped bare in front of—” he turned toward MacKenzie suddenly “—how big did you say that the audience was?”

Her expression told him that didn’t think this was the time to repeat that particular statistic. She probably thought he’d get stage fright. If that was the case, she was dead wrong. It didn’t matter to him if there was one person sitting out there or one million. The numbers didn’t change the fact that he didn’t like the prospect he was about to face.

“We need the publicity,” Randy had insisted when he’d brought the idea to him. He’d presented it right after a week had passed with both of them staying at the office, waiting for the phone to ring. It didn’t seem to matter to Randy that the week had come on the heels of three very hectic months where neither of them had had more than a day off at a time.

Even when they’d been on the force together, his partner’s mind was always racing ahead, always thinking about the next case that would come their way. In a moment of weakness, Ian had given in to his partner about this show. Giving in to Randy was something he rarely did and never with this kind of consequence.

Makeup. He’d been asked to wear makeup, for pity’s sake. He should have walked out then, leaving Randy holding the bag, instead of allowing that Delany woman to take over and actually apply some to his face. He didn’t care what the reasons were, a man’s face was not made to have makeup on it.

As if to reinforce his convictions, he could feel his skin growing itchy. Could feel himself growing itchy, as well. Itchy to get the hell out of here.

Ian turned on his heel, ready to put thought into action, only to find the little production assistant blocking his way. The look in her green eyes forbade him to move.

Like that could actually stop him, Ian thought. It would have taken no effort at all just to place his hands on her shoulders and lift her out of the way.

“Don’t even think it,” MacKenzie warned, digging the heels of her soft leather boots into the floor.

Ian’s eyes narrowed even as he fought back a grin. He always admired displays of courage, even baseless courage. But before he could say anything to Dakota’s second-in-command, he heard his name being called. Ian instinctively stiffened. The fledgling grin faded.

Taylor clapped his hand on his shoulder. “That’s us, Russell.”

Turning to look toward the set, Ian felt the little brunette’s hands on the small of his back. The next moment she was pushing him in the direction of the set. Rather than take the lead the way he was so inclined to do, this time Randy fell into place behind him. Which meant that if he wanted to leave, he was going to have to send them both flying out of his way.

All right, so not today.

Muttering an oath about Taylor’s not-so-distant lineage under his breath, Ian squared his shoulders and began to walk out toward the set.

The noise level seemed to grow with each step he took.

“You owe me, Taylor,” he growled at his partner. “Big-time.”

“We’ll settle up later,” Randy promised through lips that barely moved. The next moment he smiled broadly. “Smile, damn it, Ian,” Randy hissed. “We’re not exactly walking out to face a firing squad.”

“Might as well be.”

Stoically Ian pushed back the curtain and walked out, blinking as he tried to accustom his eyes to the bright lights. He forced himself to endure this and made an effort to change his expression. He wasn’t about to become some grinning hyena. But he knew that if he continued to look as somber as he felt, not only would business not grow, it might even drop off.

Dakota deliberately made eye contact with the taller of the two men, smiling warmly and willing him to loosen up. He looked as if he expected her to start poking at him with a hot branding iron.

“And here they are now, folks.” Placing herself temporarily between the two men, she escorted them the final ten steps to the set.

An arm hooked through each of theirs, Dakota nodded first to the right. “I want you to meet Ian Russell,” she said warmly, then nodded to the left, “and Randy Taylor, the two men who pooled their considerable abilities to form Bodyguard, Inc.” Gesturing for the men to take a seat on the cream-colored Italian leather sofa, she sat down on the overstuffed armchair that faced them. Only then did she glance toward her audience. “Not a very flashy name, I know, but it gets its message across, and I’m a firm believer that sometimes simple is best.”

The woman probably wouldn’t know simple if it bit her, Ian thought. Because of the nature of his work, he was more than passingly acquainted with celebrity types. The moment any kind of fame came their way, they lost all perspective, became little demigod dictators without any sense of reality. Opulence became their king, not simplicity.

“What these men provide,” Dakota was telling her audience, “is a very basic service.” A chuckle rose from the middle of the crowd, swelling and working its way to the outer perimeter until it seemed to encompass most of the room. “Okay, minds out of the gutter, people,” Dakota instructed with a laugh. “It’s not that kind of service.” Although, she could see why her audience, comprised predominantly of women, would think so, given the men they were ogling at. “It’s protection. These men are modern-day white knights. Ian,” she said, suddenly turning toward him, “why would I come to you?”

“What?”

He’d allowed his mind to wander, and Dakota had caught him completely off guard with her question. He’d been convinced that for the most part, since she appeared to be a savvy-looking woman, the talk-show hostess would know to focus her attention on and direct her questions to Taylor. Anyone could see that his partner was obviously the more gregarious of the two. Scratch that. “More” had nothing to do with it. He was the only gregarious one of the two of them.

Maybe Ms. Dakota Delany wasn’t as savvy as he thought she was.

Dakota shifted in her seat, her body language telling him that despite his hesitation, she wasn’t backing off. Her attention was completely focused on him.

Damn you, Taylor, he thought, hating the trapped feeling that threatened to possess him.

“There are a lot of other companies out there,” she persisted, her blue eyes never leaving his face. “Companies that are more established than yours. They all offer bodyguard service—something,” she said in an aside to the audience, adding a familiar wink, “that I would personally never avail myself of.” Her audience must be aware she had an aversion to having a paid-for shadow following her every move. She looked back at Ian. “Why come to you?”

His eyes met hers dead-on, letting her know he didn’t appreciate being placed on the spot. He was here as a silent support, a nonverbal backup. He wasn’t the firm’s spokesperson. “Because we’ll get the job done,” he told her simply.

Randy finally rode to the rescue. “Between us we’ve got fifteen years of experience on the force,” he interjected. “And we know the kind of precautions that need to be taken.”

Dakota glanced at the silver clipboard MacKenzie had shoved into her hands at the last minute. Typed notes in neat, short paragraphs summarized the men and their firm. Already familiar with what was written there, she looked only to reinforce herself.

“That’s right, both of you are former homicide detectives.” Turning toward the audience, she winked and said in her intimate way, “I do believe I feel safer already.”