Chapter 14 #3
When Rory was able to disentangle herself from Cutter’s clutches, he kept a tight hold of her hands, leaned back, and made no attempt to hide the sleazy way he was devouring the sight of her, his focus lingering on her breasts.
“Stunning. A vision. All the gold in the world couldn’t compare to your beauty. ” Cutter’s fake smile broadened.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Hi, I’m Chris Hunter.
” Chris had at least four inches on the guy, so he made an obvious show of bending down when he offered his hand.
Was that an asshole move? Yeah. But even though Rory was every bit her own woman, he felt the need to protect her like a shield from whatever slimy bullshit the man was preparing to toss her way.
“Are you friends with my Rory?” Cutter asked, tightening his grip on Chris’s hand.
My? Chris swallowed the anger rolling up, on the verge of exiting by way of his tongue. He set his arm back to his side, doing his best not to coil his fingers into his palm and clench his hand. Be the better man.
“This is Harper and Roman,” Rory quickly said, sidling close to Chris and placing a hand on his bicep, as if worried he was about to lose his cool. It was also a statement to Cutter. She was with Chris.
“A pleasure,” Harper said, her tone sugary sweet, the one she used when she was forcing herself to do something she didn’t like.
“Congratulations on your latest discovery.” Roman maintained his typical even tone, but when Cutter dropped his eyes to Harper’s cleavage, Roman edged one step forward in defense mode.
He was making his own statement. Roman may have been the quiet type, but he was also the type you didn’t fuck with.
Tall and strong, an imposing force that a person with any sense would know to back away from because it’d be a fight you’d lose.
But Cutter didn’t back down—not the least bit intimidated by either Chris or Roman. The guy was a world-class idiot. And he had to have been to lose Rory.
“You work together?” Cutter’s hands slipped into his pockets, but before anyone could answer, a woman appeared behind Cutter and whispered into his ear.
Cutter turned toward her after listening to whatever she’d said, then nodded.
“Sorry about that.” He brought his palms out of his pockets and steepled them together, resting the tips of his fingers beneath his chin.
“I have to go talk to someone. Rather urgently. But I’m so glad you’re here.
” He brought a hand to Rory’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be able to resist showing up.
But I had planned on finding you either way. ”
The word why seemed to hang on the tip of Rory’s tongue, but rather than ask, her mouth tightened into a line.
“Be back soon.” Cutter’s attention moved from Chris to Harper and, lastly, to Roman.
“That was awkward,” Rory said once Cutter was gone. “Sorry about him. He’s a bit—”
“Of an ass?” Harper finished for her casually.
“I guess I overlooked that while we worked together.” Rory peered toward the band. “You all feel like dancing?” Her tone had switched to light and carefree as if she were trying to shove away the weight of the world.
Roman peered toward the band. “No one is dancing.”
“Someone has to start, right?” Rory reached for Chris’s hand, and when she set her palm inside of his, he released a sigh as his entire body relaxed.
As she led him by the hand to the dance floor, thoughts of everything else, including his mom, Cutter, and lurking threats, were gone from his mind. When she framed her body to dance, lifted her chin to hold his eyes, and his hands settled on her hips . . . he was lost. Lost in her and the moment.
A woman was singing with the band now, but he was unable to pull his gaze away from Rory.
“A rendition of a Whitney Houston song,” Rory said softly. “I like it. A.J.’s mom was a huge fan of hers and would always push Ella and me to sing Whitney’s songs whenever we did karaoke nights together.”
He could picture Rory as a cute kid. Instead of a spatula, a microphone in hand, belting out Whitney’s songs. The image of a young Rory had him swallowing down a lump of emotion.
For the first time in his life, he could envision himself with a daughter. A girl with blonde hair. With Rory’s killer eyes and smile. Her big, compassionate heart. Rolling on green grass with Bear.
“What are you thinking about?” Rory tipped her head to the side as she brought herself closer to him.
“You,” he admitted. “Us.” A family. A future. One week together, and he was dreaming of a future. Was that crazy?
“Like us having sex tonight?” she asked, her voice so low he had to read her lips over the music.
To have a kid, you need to have sex, so . . . Shit, his thoughts were insane. But this woman made him feel all kinds of incredible, and maybe his thoughts were okay. Even justified. Normal.
“I think we have eyes on us,” she said a moment later when he’d yet to respond. Rory wet her lips and eased even closer.
“They’re jealous,” he rasped, “that I’m dancing with you.”
The sexual tension between them was palpable.
Chris felt as though they were surrounded by an invisible bubble keeping the rest of the world from entering their atmosphere.
His thoughts were consumed by her. What it would be like to kiss every part of her for much longer than he’d done earlier. To make love to her.
He stepped back, reached for her hand, and twirled her. She laughed as he quickly pulled her against him, her hands landing on his biceps, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
Chris shifted his hands to caress her back while Rory skated her hands up and down his arms, fingertips biting into the crisp white fabric of his shirt every now and then.
Her eyes said it all.
Those naughty thoughts she’d promised him earlier were in her head, weren’t they?
And certainly in his head, too.
“Mind if I interrupt?”
Chris stole a look at the man off to their right. The last thing he wanted to do was turn her over to her ex-boyfriend. The last damn thing.
“Sorry, I’m taken,” Rory said, her tone deep and resolute, never removing her eyes from Chris.
His pulse, his everything, was flying as they continued to dance.
He was falling. So. Damn. Hard.
“How long have we been dancing?” she asked a few songs later, but he’d lost all concept of time.
“No idea,” he returned without checking his black Breitling watch, one of the only expensive things he owned aside from his Jeep.
“I, um”—she teasingly bit into her lip—“need to go to the ladies’ room. Come with me?”
He nodded, still holding on to her hand, but then Cutter stepped in their path just outside the ballroom and near the set of elevators. Cutter was cockblocking their kiss.
“We need to talk.” Cutter ignored Chris and pinned Rory with a determined look. “Please.”
Rory peered at Chris from over her shoulder, their hands still clasped. She needed to close the door on this man, and so, he nodded when he realized she was searching for his opinion. “I’ll wait here.”
“I’d prefer to talk in private,” Cutter said, stepping in front of Chris like a challenge.
There were two ways out of the hotel. The elevators near where Chris stood, and the stairwell off to his left.
Like hell would he take any chances letting Rory out of his sight. Maybe Cutter wasn’t her enemy, but on the off chance a bad guy did show up, he wouldn’t let someone grab Rory and take her down the stairwell or via the elevator. He’d seen shit go wrong too many times in the past.
“I’ll be staying here.” Chris folded his arms, remaining in the hall a few paces from the two elevators.
“Are you kidding me?” Cutter scoffed.
Rory released Chris’s hand and set her palm to Cutter’s back. “If you want to talk, we’ll do it on the terrace. Otherwise, I have plans.”
Cutter’s eyes honed in on Chris, another challenge there. Good fucking luck with that. “Be seeing you.” Cutter jerked his chin, the threat clear in his words. He turned and went for Rory’s arm, but she eased out of his reach.
Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket as he watched Rory and Cutter re-enter the ballroom. He quickly dialed Roman, not sure where he and Harper were at the moment.
“What’s up?” Roman answered on the second ring.
“What’s your grid?” he asked, his brain sliding into operator mode.
“Terrace. What’s the situation?” Roman asked.
“You have eyes on Rory and Cutter?”
“I do now,” Roman said, his tone deep.
“I just need eyes on them. Make sure nothing goes sideways,” Chris requested, knowing Roman would understand every possible meaning of his words. Bad guys, Cutter—they might even go hand in hand.
“Roger,” Roman confirmed and ended the call. Chris stowed his phone and braced a hand against the striped wallpaper in the hall as he waited for what felt like hours for her to return when it was only minutes according to his watch.
Rory sidestepped a woman with a serving tray who had exited the ballroom at the same time, and Chris ate up the remaining space to get to her.
“Everything okay?” he asked, reaching for her.
Her confident shoulders displayed the slightest drop that most people wouldn’t notice, but he’d been trained to pick up on every detail in any given situation.
“He just wants me back.” Her eyes widened a fraction. “Not like that. I mean, he wants me to work for him. A special project he’s struggling with, and he thinks only I can help.”
They moved off to the side of the elevators when two couples exited, their curious eyes traveling to where Chris and Rory stood.
“Like all the research you did to help him find the treasure in that ballroom that he took credit for?” Chris asked, not even caring if the nosy couples heard since Cutter, in his mind, was a fake. Taking credit for the work Rory had put into that discovery was all the proof he needed.
“Good researchers who can also dive, shoot, and fight are hard to find.” She set a palm to his cheek.