Jay moves to stand beside Jimmy as if a line is being drawn in the sand, and he is proclaiming his side.
Jimmy gives me a hard stare that might intimidate some, but my father has a similar look he issues in place of a long lecture. It’s effective. I know exactly what Jimmy is warning me not to do. The problem is—I’ve never been good at following the rules. So, I stand there, holding the card out to him, letting my steady gaze be an answer of its own.
“Wait,” Lance takes a last swig of his beer then stands as well. “We’re taking the hotel room though, right?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy says with a grunt and takes the card from my hand. “Savannah asked us to trust her judgement, and he’ll be here tomorrow after we go back home. We’ll see her in the morning. Jay run next door and tell Murray we’re staying so he should collect the car. Lance, get the takeout.”
While Jimmy and I walk toward the side exit of the restaurant, he slaps a hand on my shoulder and lowers his voice. “You’ve got money and that there fancy suit, my friends and I have something that might be of interest to you.”
I can’t tell if he’s about to ask me to invest in his bar or sucker punch me. I step out of the restaurant with him, face him, and ask, “And what is that?”
“A combined sixty-three years of experience hunting. Murray and I served in the Army. We know how to lie in wait. Hit our target.”
It sounds familiar, similar to a threat I already received that evening.
Another measured look I don’t react to.
“Nothing to say?” he pushes.
“I’ve issued similar cautions to young men interested in my sister. I respect your position.”
“I sure hope you’re nothing more than you appear,” Jimmy says in a tone that hints he might be starting to like me.
I understand this man. When it comes to keeping the people I care about safe, I’ll do whatever needs to be done—even hiding out in Boston, courting business deals under an alias.
“My primary interest in seeing Savannah again is only to ensure she isn’t getting mixed up with an unsavory element in Boston. There are people here who might take advantage of someone new to the city.”
Lance joins us with several bags of food. Murray and Jay cross the street to us. A moment later Charles pulls up with the limo.
Murray says he’ll pick up the car in the morning. Charles asks if he requires anything out of it. Murray looks to his friends and asks, “You all got your makeup bags with you?”
Jimmy bats his eyelashes—a sign that all that beer might have affected him just a little.
Laughter erupts.
“We’re good,” Murray announces then leans in to say something to me.
In a low tone, I say, “I know. You’ve served in the Army and still love to hunt. Got it.”
He laughs. “Charles shared some pretty good stories about you.”
“He did?” My attention snaps to Charles. I don’t believe he would disclose who I really am, but I also wouldn’t have guessed he would have gotten along so well with Murray.
Charles gives me a look that assures me he’s neither compromised nor tipsy. Whatever he shared hasn’t blown my cover.
“Good night, gentlemen,” I say with a wave before sliding into the back seat of the limo.
I check my watch. It’s late. Unless she’s waiting up for her friends, she’s probably asleep. I should go back to my office and see how the foreign markets are faring. “Stop at Savannah’s.”
Charles turns in his seat to get a good look at me. “Is that a good idea?”
“I should tell her that her friends are not returning.”
“Oh,” he laughs. “Because they won’t text her with that revelation?” He turns back to face forward and pulls out into traffic. “I’ll admit I’m impressed. Four men at her apartment with plans to return, and you convince them not to. Smooth.”
I frown. I don’t like what he’s implying. “It’s not like that. I need to talk to her. I received an email from Simon while we were at dinner. Nothing good. Jana Monroe is an alias.”
“Poor Savannah seems to attract people who can’t remember their real names.”
I cross my arms over my chest and sink deeper into my seat. “So glad you find the situation amusing.”
He glances at me through the rearview mirror. “Amusing? No. Complicated, yes. I would love to tell you it’s a mistake to continue to have any involvement with Savannah.”
“But?”
“I’ve spent the last few hours learning about her, and I think your instincts are correct. She’s too innocent to understand the danger she might be putting herself in. A woman like her, with no family to watch out for her . . .”
“I don’t want to think about the possibilities. I’ve told her I don’t agree with her having further involvement with this Monroe, but she doesn’t listen to me.”
Now Charles did look amused. “If only she knew who she’s dealing with.”
“Exactly,” I say with shared humor. I am too accustomed to women falling over themselves to catch and keep my attention. Even the expendable prince is a catch with a title many find too tempting not to vie for. Not Savannah.
We drive in silence the rest of the way. As we pull up to the front of the building, I say, “Charles, it’s late. I can catch a cab home.”
“I’ll wait here.”
“It may be a while.”
“I don’t think so.”
I have no reason to explain anything to Charles, but when he opens the back door of the limo for me, I add, “I’m only going to talk to her.”
He closes the door and leans against it. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Fine.
The doorman gives me a disapproving look when I ask him to ring her apartment. I slide him a large bill. Suddenly he’s very helpful.
“Hello?” her voice comes through the speaker, sounding sleepy and sexy.
“Mr. Hastings is here. Shall I send him up?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
The doorman gestures to the elevator and makes himself busy with some paperwork. I use the ride up to organize my thoughts. This time, she will listen to me.
“The guys just called and said they’re staying at a hotel for the night.” Savannah wipes the sleep out of her eyes as she lets me in. Her pajamas are a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. She probably thinks they cover her adequately, but someone needs to tell her they are both sinfully tight. Her bare legs go on forever and the stretched material of her T-shirt accentuates how excited she is to see me.
I raise my eyes to hers. Everything below her neck is too dangerous.
I wish her lips weren’t as tempting.
“I just finished dinner with your friends,” I say as she closes the door behind me. Part of me wants to tell her to throw me out. Anything I have to say could be said tomorrow when I’m not sporting a boner and can think clearly again.
She moves to sit on a single chair rather than the couch, pulls her legs up in front of her and yawns. I stay rooted where I am . . . aching for her.
“Lance said they’re in the presidential suite. Did you do that?”
“Yes.” I can barely breathe. God, she’s so beautiful.
“Why?”
Her question hangs in the air.
I’ve never been shy about what I am. If she weren’t a virgin, I’d tell her. This is different, though. I can’t tell her what I want because I’m still trying to figure out what the hell it is.
I shouldn’t be here.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Savannah
It’s my first night with my own place in Boston, and I already have a gorgeous man in my apartment looking like he wants to spend the night. Everywhere his gaze caresses me, my body warms. I don’t know what to do about my nipples waving at him like two take-me-now beacons, so I hug my legs to my front.
Having sex is one of my goals, but the intensity of my attraction to Brice scares me. It feels dangerously impulsive. I cling t
o the conversation I had with Jana. If sex was all I wanted, I would have had it already. What I want is a better life for myself. Jumping into bed with the first beautiful man who pays attention to me feels like a recipe for failure.
“You really have issues.” What do they call laying your crazy at someone else’s door? Transference? Whatever, I need to be angry with him, or I’m going to be on my knees begging him to initiate me.
But then what? Where would we go from there? I’m not saying I may never have a one-night stand . . . but my legs are still hairy for God’s sake. It’s too early in my transformation to think I can handle someone like Brice.
And how would I look Jana in the eye? I told her I’d follow her plan. I paid her all that money. I don’t care how amazing his lips might feel on my skin.
They’d catch on stubble. Remember that.
“I have issues?” The look on his face is shocked—like I’m the first to accuse him of not being perfect. It bolsters my conviction.
“You love to orchestrate things. Make them turn out the way you want.”
“That’s not so much an issue as a talent.”
His grin is all sex, and heat surges through me. I bet he knows exactly what he’s doing. How many women have fallen for that look? Have felt the same urges that are filling me and have given in to them? His grin says too many.
Time to address the elephant in the room. “I’ve spent the last few hours thinking about you.” That didn’t come out the way I meant it to.
“Really?” His eyebrows arch, and he looks pretty pleased with himself.
I rush to add, “And Lance, Murray, Jay, and Jimmy.”
That removes some of the cockiness from him.
I continue, “I’m surrounding myself with the wrong men. Scaring off anyone who might actually make me happy. I need to stop hiding from life by continuing to open the door to you guys.” I shrug. “Jana says this is a journey I need to take on my own, and I think she’s right.”
“Jana?” He huffs. “I’ve looked into this woman. She didn’t exist five years ago. She’s a liar, a scammer. Possibly worse.”
I shake my head. It makes sense that Jana would be working under an assumed name. The very nature of her business is covert. “I’m sorry you have no faith in me.”
He steps closer. “It’s not you I have no faith in. You’re a nice person, Savannah. Cities are full of people ready to take advantage of your inexperience. How long did it take you to get mugged?”
I glare at him. “Next time you bring my purse up I may have to kick your ass. I have a lot to learn. I get it. That’s why I hired Jana.”
Another step closer. My body is literally humming for him. I tell it to chill the fuck out.
“What did you hire her to do?” His tone is warm honey, and I can’t refuse him anything in this moment.
“Fix me,” I say in a raw whisper. Stop me from stopping myself from succeeding.
“You don’t look broken to me.” I’ve fantasized what it would be like to have a man look at me the way he is. I imagined how it would make me feel. This is so much more. I’m turned on, scared immobile, angry with myself, angry with him, sad that I’m being offered something before I’m ready to accept it.
I want to stand up, strip, and say . . . wax me yourself, baby.
I want to turn and run, slam the bedroom door, and hide out until I’m sure he’s gone.
My indecision is proof enough that this is a bad idea.
He’s right in front of my chair, looming over me. I refuse to meet his eyes. My gaze falls to his prominent bulge, and I briefly close my eyes. I’m an intelligent, confident woman who is completely in control of the situation. All I have to do is think of something intelligent and confident to say.
I open my eyes.
Oh God, I just looked at his crotch again.
I lower my gaze, still trying to come up with what to say.
He crouches in front of me, placing a hand on the arms of the chair to steady himself. I raise my eyes to his. He’s so close I forget why any of this shouldn’t happen.
His voice is low and measured. A change for him. “Your friends told me what you’ve been through. I understand now.”
I don’t think he does. In fact, I’m sure he doesn’t. Or he’d already be kissing me. I cling to the last shreds of my anger. “Great. I’m glad you guys had a long chat over your dinner. How lovely. That doesn’t make any of you an expert on me. It doesn’t give you the right to tell me what I should do.”
“Jana isn’t going to fix you. She’s going to hurt you. You need to know that.”
I could lose myself in his eyes . . . in the promise of those lips of his. I’m reasonably certain he’d let me touch them, but doing so would send the opposite message than it should.
He asks, “What did she promise you? That she’d show you a way to make money?”
“I don’t care about money,” I say, struggling to remember what I do care about beyond this moment and how he’s making me feel. “Things don’t matter. I don’t expect you to understand, but I have to do this. My father gave me a clock when I was little. It was antique. Special. He’d given it to my mother when he married her to represent that he would love her for all time. I clung to that clock, especially after I lost my father. I thought it mattered. Then my grandmother became very ill, and no matter how much I worked, I couldn’t afford the care she needed. So I sold it. And it freed me. A part of me had been waiting for someone to swoop in and save me and that clock. I thought that was how life worked . . . that there is always a happy ending like in the movies. Sure things might get tough, but then they always turn around. Only they don’t. I have to save myself. There is no prince charging in on a white horse.”
“White horses are notoriously difficult to keep clean.”
His joke pulls me back to the moment. “I don’t know why I thought you might understand.”
His expression turns serious. “I’m trying.”
“Listen. Nothing you say will change my mind because working with Jana is worth the risk.”
He growls. “You are the most frustrating . . . most stubborn . . .”
The kiss takes me by surprise. I’m moving . . . floating to my feet. There is no slow burn. No tentative exploration. My hands race to his hair, grabbing handfuls as his arms loop around me. Lifting me. Pressing me to his hard body. I throb all over for the want of him. Everything is instinctive. I move rhythmically against his excitement. Then his hand moves down my back and cups my ass.
It’s gloriously primal.
I moan. His grip tightens on my ass, and his mouth moves to explore my neck.
I’m on the verge of reaching my hand down to explore his hardness when a moment of clarity shines through. I don’t know this man. This is not the plan.
Jana’s way promises a good and safe man. An experience I can remember fondly. Grow from. Hold with me forever.
This is passion. Lust.
Dangerous.
I’d be just a fuck to him.
Can I handle the brush-off that will likely follow? What if I can’t, and it sends me running back to Coppertop?
I’ve come too far to do something stupid now.
“I can’t,” I whisper as I pull my hand from its path toward his belt. I fold away from him and he lets me. His eyes are wild with desire. I’m sure mine are as well. I don’t care if he hates me for it, though. I’m not ready. “I can’t, Brice.”
He steps back and nods. “I’m sorry. I told myself that wouldn’t happen.”
Funny, I told myself the same thing. I walk to the door, take a deep breath, and open it. “If I’d have met you in a couple of weeks. After. Maybe. I don’t know. But you met me before. You met Savannah from Coppertop, Maine, in her stinky wool coat. You’re part of what I need to close the door on.”
“I don’t understand. You wish we’d met after what? What do you mean you have to close the door on me?”
“Brice, how many chances do people get for a fresh
start? Usually one. This is mine. I need to move forward.”
“Jana is not a life coach. I’ll find you one, if that’s what you want.”
“Please don’t dissect this. You won’t understand it unless I explain it, and I won’t.” I think of the contract I signed. The nondisclosure with consequences for breaking it. “Jana is helping me. That’s all anyone needs to know. Good night.”
Brice walks toward the door then stops beside me. “Savannah, when someone wants to control a person the first thing they do is separate them from their support system. It’s a classic manipulation and abuse move. Remember that the next time Jana tells you to close a door on anyone.”
Brice walks out, and I quickly shut the door, sagging against it.
His words echo in my mind.
His taste lingers on my lips.
I push off the door and walk to my bedroom. My very empty, very chaste bedroom.
I’m going to die a virgin.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Savannah
I wake up in a better mood.
Good idea or not, I’m staying the course. If I start second-guessing myself, I might as well go home to Coppertop.
My apartment is cozy. My apartment. Mine. No matter how many times I say it, I still can’t believe it. It’s a short-term lease. I’ll have to figure out a way to be able to afford it long-term. But for now this little piece of Boston is mine. I stretch across the comfortable sheets and smile as the sun cuts through the shades.
I don’t know what kind of night the guys had, but I’m certain they’ll be here early. Like the tides of Maine, they are reliable.
I scramble out of bed when I hear the buzzer of my intercom. I tell the doorman to send them up then hunt down a bra.
They’re laughing as they come down the hallway. I open the door for them and they fill my living room. Lance tosses a plastic bag at me. “Don’t say I never gave you anything. That’s presidential suite shit.”
I glance in the bag. It’s a stockpile of freebies you get from a hotel. Everything, right down to the extra roll of toilet paper. I roll my eyes, but actually, I’m giddy for the tiny shampoos and lotions.
The Bachelor Towers: Books 1-3 Page 46