Her Secret Service Agent. Stephanie Doyle
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ten Years Ago
“VIV, WHERE ARE we going?”
“Just follow me,” Vivian said, taking Joe by the hand and leading him through the crowded house party a couple of blocks off the Georgetown campus. She needed privacy, something she’d thought would be easy to find at a college party. Everyone had stories about secret hookups at parties like this. The reality, however, was there were more people than space in the brownstone and the hooking-up seemed to happen openly.
Something she might have known if she actually did the college party scene more often. She didn’t usually come to these types of events. Not the most social person, she preferred spending her nights quietly with a small circle of friends. Friends she could trust.
For that matter so did Joe Hunt, who was her Secret Service point man.
Tonight had been his night off, but Vivian had convinced him to switch shifts with Cindy, who mostly handled nights and weekends. Joe had a hard time denying Vivian anything, so it wasn’t a surprise he’d agreed to the request. Now she had to work up the courage to go through with the rest of her plan.
Vivian thought that if she could have him to herself at a casual event, and they could really talk, then he might understand what she was feeling. He might also be more willing to admit what she was pretty sure he was feeling, too.
“Seriously, Viv, if this is about you thinking I’m going to let you drink, forget it. You’ve got six months to go before you’re twenty-one, and I’m not bending on a single hour. Your father would have my ass.”
Vivian didn’t bother to answer. As if drinking beer was even close to what she was getting ready to tell him. She’d been waiting for this night for weeks, and the last person she wanted to think about now was Daddy.
As president of the United States, leader of the free world, he was known to be an overbearing hard-liner. As a single father to his only daughter, he was even stricter. He would definitely not approve of what Vivian was about to do.
Despairing of finding an empty bedroom, she decided her second-best option was a room she knew would allow them privacy and had a lock on the door. She found an upstairs bathroom off the master bedroom. While there were people milling about in the bedroom, talking and drinking, the bathroom was fortunately unoccupied.
It would have to do.
She pulled Joe in behind her, shut the door and locked it for good measure. Phase One was complete.
Then she turned to face him, and all the words got stuck in her throat. He was dressed casually, albeit professionally, to help blend in at the event. As point man, his job was to stay with her at all times while Carl Mather, his backup, secured the entrance and exit points and patrolled the perimeter of the house.
With his hair, slightly longer than standard for a federal agent, and his slacks and button-down, along with a blazer she knew covered his shoulder holster, he might have passed for college age. A preppy Georgetown law school student, perhaps.
It was a point of contention for him because she knew his buddies in the service called him Baby Face Hunt. Any time someone said it to him he scowled, which usually made her smile. She took enough grief from him on a daily basis that she loved it when he got a taste of payback.
“And now we’re in the bathroom. Why?” he said as if still trying to understand why she had led him here.
“I wanted to talk. In private.”
“So talk.”
Vivian nodded. This was it. Phase Two. She wanted to tell him how much he’d meant to her these past two years. She wanted to tell him how desperately alone she’d been before he came along. Having lost her mother at twelve had been hard, as it would be for any girl that age. But going through that while her remaining single parent was running for the most visible office in the world hadn’t been a cakewalk.
Then Joe came into her life to take over her protection going into college and everything changed. Realistically, she understood she was just an assignment to him. His job. But she also knew when she talked, he listened. And he talked to her, too. They ate most of their meals together, knew about each other’s day. Each other’s lives and families. Each other’s goals and dreams.
In the two years they had been together, somehow he’d become her best friend. The person she most wanted to be with in the world.
The man she...loved.
Except saying all that was apparently not going to happen. She wanted to share everything with him, but now that the moment was here, she could barely breathe.
Shit! It was happening again. She couldn’t take enough air into her lungs, and then she started to pant.
“Viv,” Joe said, moving in and holding on to her shoulders. Forcing her to meet his gaze. “Look at me. Look at me. Easy now. Deep breath. In. Out. Again. In. Out.”
After a few moments she was breathing normally. Joe always had that effect on her minor panic attacks. Like he could will them away.
Only now his expression got harder, darker. “Okay, for real. Talk to me. What’s got you upset? Did someone say something to you? Do something?”
Vivian shook her head. This was supposed to be a fun night. A casual party. They were supposed to be talking about their relationship, only now she could see she was worrying him.
“No, nothing like that. It’s just...we’ve known each other for two years...and I...thought...that... Oh, forget Phase Two.”
That was when she did it. It was actually pretty easy. Joe still had his hands on her shoulders. All she had to do was press her body against his. She found his mouth with hers and then wrapped her arms around his waist as if she could hold on for dear life.
This was Phase Three. Everything depended on Phase Three.
She could feel his surprise, feel his hands tighten on her shoulders. She broke away from the kiss and he opened his mouth to say something, but it was too late. She was kissing him again, and this time her tongue was in his mouth and she was tasting him.
Vivian Abigail Eleanor Bennett was kissing Joe Hunt, and it was heaven.
Then her back was pressed hard against the locked door of the bathroom and she felt his tongue thrusting against hers. She thought she might have whimpered. Suddenly he was gone and she was empty.
“What the effing hell was that?” he shouted at her.
Still reeling from desire and excitement, it took her a second to process his words. All she could think about was how her mouth felt. It was the only thing on her body she could feel. Hot, swollen, wet.
He tasted...amazing, and all she knew was that she wanted more. Except he was yelling at her.
Wait. Why was he yelling?
“What are you thinking? I’m seven years