Once the elevator doors closed, Jaclyn pressed the button for the twentieth floor of the West Tower, and promptly declawed herself from her full-on man attack.
Silence filled the small space as they were whisked upward. A chime announced their arrival. Richard stepped forward to exit, but she snatched his elbow, easing him back.
“Whoa there, cowboy.” Again, she pushed a button, this time hitting the one for eleven. The doors closed. “In case your friends check the elevator, I want them to think we’re going to my room. We’re going to keep an eye out until they leave. I’ve got a great spot for spying.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised. And they’re not my friends.”
The doors opened to the famous eleventh floor “rooftop” pool. Touted in travel magazines as an architectural feat, the pool was nestled on a roof of a shorter tower, flanked by the taller twenty-story towers.
Round-the-clock access to the secluded venue offered a private oasis at the moment. Shimmers from the backlit water played perfectly against a backdrop of multicolored city lights and a warm, sweet-scented breeze.
They strolled to the far end of the inviting crystal-clear water, looking out over a glass half wall to the empty street below. Waiting on the undynamic duo’s departure was taking forever. With a half-hidden yawn, Jaclyn plucked Richard’s glass from his hand and poured his remaining bourbon into her lowball, then set his aside.
He smirked. “Sure, help yourself.”
She sipped. “The last thing we need is you choking to death because you can’t handle your booze. In a way, I’m saving your life.”
He leaned an elbow on the glass railing, fully facing her. “You know, there’s an old proverb that says if you save my life, you’re entrusted to care for it.”
Amused, she mirrored his stance. “Well, the way I heard it is if I save your life, you’re now indebted to me for the rest of yours.”
His eyes were pure playtime, teasing her with a knowing glance. “I’m actually prepared to accept your terms. Shall we put it in writing, back-of-the-napkin style, or are you as good as your word?”
“Oh, I’m so much better than my word.” She tasted her drink, swallowing and letting the heat of the bourbon slide slowly down her throat.
Their gazes locked, and seconds ticked by.
Is he going to kiss me or what?
“So,” Richard said, “are you sure they’re not guests? Maybe they’re going back to their rooms.” He looked at his watch. “And as much as I’d love to grab a poolside chaise and glamp, I really do need to head out soon.”
Guess not.
Lifting her gaze from his lips, she eyed him up and down. “I know they’re not guests like I know you’re not a guest, but for different reasons. Your pals were on an obvious late-night pub crawl, checking out the best Dallas bars have to offer, and the Joule is world renowned. They were wearing shirts with the same logo, for a convention that’s hosted at the Gaylord. They’ve been taking their time going from one place to another, not overly drunk, but also not exactly sober. Trust me, they’re not staying here.”
Richard looked over the edge, studying the architecture of the pool overhanging the sidewalk below. Distracted by the anti-gravity feat, he seemed totally engrossed in something other than the hot-and-bothered woman standing inches from him.
Jaclyn wasn’t sure he’d caught a single word she’d said until he asked, “What about me?” His dazzling blue gaze returned to her. “How do you know I’m not a guest?”
Echoes rose from the street below of men being a little too loud for two in the morning, and Richard and Jaclyn both popped their heads over the railing to see her prediction materialize. The men were leaving the hotel, still jovial, although they must have been kicked out after last call.
“See?” she said smugly. “Not guests.”
Nodding, he conceded her point. “You were right. But you’re probably used to that.”
They exchanged smiles that promised more, and started walking slowly back toward the elevator.
“And me?” he asked.
“You? Take a look at yourself,” she said, and he gave himself a quick once-over. “You’re still in a suit and tie, likely burning the midnight oil. Then you decided to get away, maybe walk away to refocus. But thinking you’d be back quickly, you didn’t bother changing into something casual, as if you’re used to wearing suits like a second skin. And, if you were a guest, you would have gone somewhere else. My hunch is that hitting a bar wasn’t exactly on your mind, because you don’t strike me as the type to drink your way through a puzzle. Well, that and I’ve seen you drink.”
Richard rolled his eyes at that.
“With your obvious workaholic tendencies, alcohol wasn’t on your agenda, or you would’ve raided your own minibar and dove right back into whatever was bothering you. So, how’d I do?”
He unbuttoned his jacket and pocketed his hands. “I’m staying at the Crescent Court. But this crazy pool caught my eye when I drove in. It’s not every day you see a pool hanging over a street midway up a hotel. I had to check the place out.”
“At one in the morning?”
His lips lifted in a half smile. “I get restless, and I don’t need much sleep. I like staying in big cities because wandering clears my head, and I can blend into the nightlife. You’re right. I was trying to wrap my head around something. I happened to come in when those guys did, and, well, I saw you. We all saw you.”
The deepening blue of his eyes held hers. “You said hello to the folks at the front desk, asking one of them how he was doing with a new baby in the house.”
His endearing grin spread a little wider. “Then you made your way to the basement bar, and, looking the way you looked at this hour, we couldn’t exactly not follow you. They noticed me noticing you and proposed a friendly bet. Worst-case scenario, I paid a high price for a little entertainment. But I figured I had nothing to lose. I was pretty sure you weren’t falling for one of them. And if you did, I probably dodged a bullet.” When she gave him an admonishing look, he shrugged. “Come on, you met them.”
Truth.
“And best-case scenario?” She skated her fingers back and forth across the railing.
“Well, the wad of cash wasn’t terrible,” he said jokingly, and she was too charmed to be peeved. “That and I’d get to spend one of my first days in Dallas getting to know a beautiful fellow insomniac.”
“So beautiful that you gave me an alias when you were perfectly teed up to hand me your business card,” she said, raising her brows.
He gave her a sardonic smirk. “Yeah, why would anyone need an alias around a woman who looks the way you do, and just swindled a couple of strangers out of two grand?”
“I did no such thing.” Pretending to be offended, she tapped his chest. “You did all the swindling. I just sat there.”
He hung his head for a second, chuckling. “Fair enough. I guess you were just my con-artist life coach. Anyway, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea if we, well, continued—”
“Our mad partnership of crime and mayhem? Fine, I’ll start my syndicate solo. Two thousand dollars and you got to buy me a drink. Clearing your head seems to be working for you.”
She could only hold his gaze for a few seconds before he looked away.
“Oh, speaking of . . .” He pulled out his wallet and fumbled to remove their take, diligently separating it from the cash he came in with.
Jaclyn had just enough time to sneak a peek at the name on his driver’s license encased in a clear plastic pocket of his wallet. Reluctantly, she stepped to the elevator and pushed the up button as he counted the money.
He handed her half. “Here you go. For whatever it’s worth, thank you. This was unexpected. And fun.”
She eyed the money indifferently, then clasped her hands around his, securing the loot in his grip. “It’s yours.”
His intrigued baby blues fixed on her as a ping sounded, announcing the arrival of the elevator.
“The pleasure was all mine, Richard. Richard Austin.” In a final impetuous act to close out their antics, she stole a swift, deep kiss.
His arms had barely molded around her before she pulled away. Admiring the bright red stain now covering his lips, she giggled. His wide-eyed fascination was priceless.
Damn, I’d love to bring Luke Skywalker to the dark side.
She stepped into the elevator and turned to him, sipping her stolen bourbon as the elevator doors closed. A smile tipped up her lips as she watched him standing with his mouth agape, still holding out his cash-filled hand.
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Leo
To the outside world, I'm known only as Z. The enforcer. A widower with nothing to lose. An ex-SEAL sworn to keep one vow: protect the D'Angelo's at all costs.
I'm not a good man, and I never claimed to be. Protecting her was second nature. Nothing more. Claiming her was just a one-night escape.
But she made one mistake ... a cardinal sin. Slipping away on her terms. Not mine.
No strings.
No commitments.
No names?
No way.
There's just one price for my protection.
And it's her.
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