Agent Protection Sneak Peek
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Chapter One
Valencia
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Damn! I’m late again.
No matter how hard I try, work doesn’t end when I want it to. I need to set stronger boundaries or stepping back into the viper’s den of finding a man isn’t going to get off the ground. Who wants to date someone with a demanding job that’s never on time? Then again, my boss seems to pull off a high-powered career, doting husband, and a growing family. Madeleine Wilton Anderson is the president of Scala Talent and Sports Management. She and her husband have two daughters with a son due in the next few months. I’m her vice president and one of the top female agents in the country. My clients are mostly in the entertainment industry while she focuses more on athletes. Although the number of athletes on my client roster has increased recently.
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I promised my assistant Layla I wouldn’t cancel on this guy. Layla created my account and sorted through the potential dates. I have no idea what he looks like or what his profile lists as his interests. My privacy is paramount to me due to my past. The only way I’m going to recognize my date is the single flower he’ll be holding.
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I pull up to the valet outside the restaurant where we’re meeting and hand over my keys. “Thank you.” Shelley’s is an upscale dining establishment with a Michelin-rated female chef. The cuisine is inventive and delicious.
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I scoop up my Birkin tote, smooth my sheath dress, and enter the restaurant nearly thirty minutes behind schedule. Approaching the maître d', I glance around the room.
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“Good evening, Miss. Do you have a reservation?” the host, in a gray pinstripe suit with an ascot, asks before I come to a complete stop near the dais.
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I smile. “Actually, I’m meeting someone. The only information I have is he’ll be carrying a single flower.”
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The portly man smiles. “A blind date. How lovely. Right this way.”
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You can do this! You want to find a man to share your life with. As we walk through the crowded dining area, Finn rises from the table. A single, yellow rose rests on the tablecloth. I wonder what that color means.
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Fear streaks through me. I can’t date Finn. He works for Madeleine’s husband at Blackthorne Security. Is the staff aware of my past? I want someone who knows nothing about me. Thinking quickly, I lean down toward my escort. “I can take it from here. Thank you.”
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“Have a lovely evening, Miss.”
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Despite my reservations, Finn looks fantastic in a crisp white Oxford shirt and navy pants. His sandy-blond hair and green eyes are striking. He’s taller than me, which is a feat. I stand about six-feet-two inches tall with my red-soled heels on. “It’s nice to see you, Valencia. You’re lovely.” He extends a hand to me.
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The moment his skin grazes mine, tingles streak up my arm and twist around my heart. Whoa! I wrack my brain trying to recall if we’ve touched before. I would’ve remembered a similar sensual physical reaction. Unsure, I reply, “You as well. Waiting for someone?”
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Finn pulls his lips into a straight line. “You. I was worried I got stood up.”
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“How did you know I was your date?” Before he can respond, I ask, “Layla?”
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Finn drops his head in acknowledgment. “She called about twenty minutes ago indicating your tardiness was her fault.” He rounds the table and pulls out my chair.
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I take a seat and set my bag on the empty chair to my right. Finn is polite and gorgeous. The main worry I have is his boss. “Thank you. She is to blame. I apologize for my late arrival. I’m not very good at telling people no. Case in point, Layla created my profile and vetted the potential dates.”
He laughs. “Interesting.”
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I raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue.
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“Nico and Shea are responsible for mine with specific, detailed instructions from my sister.” Our server shares the specials, and we order drinks and appetizers.
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“You don’t want to date?” I ask quietly.
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Finn stares at the rose before answering, “It’s hard with my schedule.”
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A sense of relief soothes my worries about dating—a little, anyway. “I understand completely. Hence why Layla took matters into her own hands.”
“Tell me a little more about you.”
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I wrinkle my nose. “Like what?”
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He shrugs. “The only thing I know is you are Madeleine’s vice president, and I see you occasionally when I attend client events or at Scala functions. How did you become a talent agent?”
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Full disclosure is my agent absconded with a fair amount of my money at the beginning of my modeling career. The situation molded my career path. I vowed to help others in the industry as soon as I could. Sharing that on a first date isn’t the way to go. “I stumbled upon it actually. Contracts and making deals are among my favorite things. Even though I passed the bar exam, slaving away in a law office didn’t appeal to me. There was a posting in the legal department at Scala soon after I graduated. I’ve been internally climbing to vice president for the last ten years. What about you?”
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A staff member delivers our drinks and quietly slips away. “After I served in the military, Jake offered me a job. I’ve been with Blackthorne ever since. I also study martial arts, including Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Krav Maga.”
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“How does it work?” I wonder aloud. I meant for the thought to be internal. A wave of embarrassment washes over me.
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He frowns briefly.
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I continue, “I mean your assignments and the like. Are there files, or does the client tell you?”
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He visibly relaxes with this question. “I’m surprised you aren’t aware of this already. Madeleine does. You interface with our staff frequently. Typically, there’s a file about the reason for our presence. We have a team of investigators as well as the client themselves sharing information. Most of the staff, myself included, prefer to have the client provide the context regarding their security requirements in their own words.”
Our appetizers arrive just in time for the hollow in my belly to deepen. “That makes sense.” Relief trickles through me. He doesn’t know about my history at all. With that bit of information, it makes me want to come clean regarding my job. I omitted a small portion of why I chose to be a talent agent. I don’t though. I lift a spoon of lobster bisque to my lips. It’s creamy and delicious.
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Finn digs into his Caesar salad. After finishing the bite, he asks, “What do you do when you aren’t slaying contracts?”
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“I don’t have a lot of time for hobbies. However, I like to read and scour old bookstores for first editions of my favorite books.”
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“What is your genre of choice? What first edition is at the top of your list?” he asks, sipping his seasonal IPA.
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I set down my spoon and stare at this gorgeous man. I’ve never really looked past his attractive exterior. No reason to, honestly. Tonight, I’m taking in every single feature. At first blush, his eyes appear to be hazel, but up close, they’re pale green. His eyelashes are long and full. Women would kill for them.
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“What?” he interrupts my inner thoughts with a question.
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“Nothing. I realized, despite being at the same events and parties, we don’t know each other at all. I appreciate meeting other readers. Would you consider yourself a bibliophile or a bookworm?” A bibliophile loves the book itself from the feel to the smell, even the history, while a bookworm would purchase a book for the story contained within.
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A sexy grin widens on his face. It softens his chiseled jawline. He recognizes the difference between the two terms. It seems Finn is multifaceted. He’s smart, handsome, protective given his profession, and an avid reader. He may be perfect. That small omission from earlier sneaks up in the back of my mind. Ugh!
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“More the latter. You?”
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I consider his question as our meals are delivered. Finn opted for a filet with asparagus and fingerling potatoes. I chose chicken with broccoli rabe, cherry peppers, and crumbled sausage. “I’m a mix of both. I collect first editions of the stories my parents read to me when I was a child and a few seminal works. Currently, I’m searching for The Velveteen Rabbit and To Kill a Mockingbird. I read classics as well as thrillers and romantic suspense when I can.”
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“Excellent choices. I lean toward thrillers myself.” He sets down his fork. “Please excuse me for a moment.” He pulls his phone from his pocket, glances at the screen, and puts it back.
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“You don’t want to answer?” I ask.
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“I only looked because it could be my boss. I’m on call this weekend. I can talk to my sister later.”
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“I appreciate the deference to our dinner. I’m having a wonderful time. Is she older or younger?”
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Finn smiles. “Me too. Georgia is older.”
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“You’re close to her.” My words are a statement rather than a question. He took it as one though.
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“Yes. My family is tight-knit. What about you? Any siblings?”
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I shake my head. “Nope. Just me.”
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Finn reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. Warmth radiates up my arm like earlier. “Are you alone?” The tone of his question exemplifies his fierce, protective nature.
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I purse my lips before answering. “No. My parents are amazing, if not a little bit nosy.”
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Finn smirks. “Same, actually. Georgia was probably checking to see if I was chilling at home alone on a Friday night.”
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The server appears and clears our plates, then asks, “Would you care to see the dessert menu?”
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In unison, we reply, “Yes.”
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“You look surprised,” I state.
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“Not at all. A woman as smart and beautiful as you can have anything she desires, including dessert, unless….”
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I tilt my head in interest. “Keep going.”
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“Unless you want pudding. That’s a no-go for me.”
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“No snack cups for you when you were a kid?”
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He grins at me. “Nope. I’m confident those aren’t available here.”
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It dawns on me that Finn hasn’t moved his hand. There’s something calming about him. I’ve never experienced warm and fuzzy feelings with anyone before. I could get used to not being alone. “Good point.” I’m glad my tardiness didn’t mess this up from the start. He moves his hand to check his phone again. The rush of cool air on my skin is disconcerting. I miss his touch instantly.
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“I’m sorry. I need to take this one.” After greeting Jake, he listens for a minute. “I can be there within the hour.” He ends the call. “I’m intrigued what your dessert choice will be, but I need to go into work.”
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Despite my tardiness, this date has been amazing. I’m sad it will be cut short for his job. “It’s no problem.” The words coming out of my mouth and the jumbled mess in my head are two different stories. “Thank you for good conversation and a great meal. Perhaps we can find another time to share dessert.”
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“I would like that.” Finn pays our bill, swipes the rose from the table, and escorts me to the valet. While we wait, we exchange phone numbers.
“This is me,” I mumble when my white QX55 slides to a spot nearby. It’s sleek, sporty, and one of my favorite purchases. The valet hands me my keys.
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A second employee parks an SUV behind my vehicle for the other couple waiting nearby.
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Finn steps closer. “Please text me when you get home. Then we can set up a dessert date.”
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When his car arrives, he slides his hand around mine and leads me to his car. He unlocks the trunk and pulls out the remaining roses. He slips the single stem into the bunch and hands them to me. We walk with our fingers threaded to my driver door. For a man who needs to be somewhere soon, he isn’t rushing away from me. The mere thought makes my heart squeeze. I’m also wondering about the flowers. Does he routinely give the rest to his date? If not, what happens to them?
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He opens my car door and presses a light kiss to my cheek. “Good night, Valencia.”
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The way my full name sounds in his deep, husky voice is smooth like cabernet. “Night, Finn.”
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He waits for me to pull away before hurrying back to his SUV. I know this because I watch him in my rearview mirror. I haven’t been in a relationship before. Not that a single meal equals one. If being with Finn makes me feel alive and happy, I’m willing to give dating a shot. I chose to be single to avoid sharing my past as well as the scars it left behind, both mental and physical. Something about Finn tells me he could handle the truth and seeing the flaws on my skin.
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