Chapter Three #3
He’d tried to talk himself out of this. When she’d told him earlier that she’d better let him get back to work, he’d felt dismissed.
She’d put her hand on his arm, and all he’d been able to do was stare down at her fingers resting there while he tried to process the effect they had on him.
But then she’d pulled back, effectively told him to go back to work, and returned to her seat.
He figured he’d probably read the whole thing wrong, so he’d gone.
Not even back to the spot he’d occupied earlier.
He’d moved up a tier and over, into a place where she wouldn’t see him, the theory being that he wouldn’t keep looking for her from up there. He’d break the habit, and that’d be it.
It hadn’t worked. He’d found himself spending more time watching Bea than either the acts onstage or the crowd.
And watching her had confirmed something for him.
He wasn’t just curious. Sure, that was how it had started, but it was more than that now.
He’d described the pull he felt toward her as being like a magnet before.
Now he knew what it was. It was attraction.
And the clincher had been seeing the way she kept looking for him too.
Yeah, she was caught up in the music most of the time, still doing her little dance in her seat and exchanging smiles with her neighbors.
But she kept checking the spot where he’d been.
More than that, he’d caught the disappointment on her face when she didn’t find him there.
So he’d gone down to offer to ride the tube back to the hotel with her. She could have said no. He could maybe have convinced himself that he was only concerned about her safety, but it was more than that.
So now, looking down into the eyes he still couldn’t decide were brown or green, he smiled and repeated the word.
“Yeah. Wonderful.”
He was a damn fool, and he knew it. The whole thing was pointless. The concert would last one more night. She’d go back to wherever she came from on Monday, and he’d go home. Although he needed to answer Cash at some point. The man was being cagey about the jet and its availability.
But Blane figured there was no harm in allowing himself to enjoy her company while he could, even if that only meant the rest of the journey back to the hotel tonight.
And then maybe …
He held his breath when someone jostled Bea from behind, pushing her more firmly against him. She shot him an apologetic smile. He had no problem with it. He tightened his grip on the pole, hoping she wouldn’t step away now that there was a little more room.
Maybe tomorrow night, before he had to leave, he’d go and sit on the empty stool beside her. There’d be nothing wrong with that, would there?
When they emerged from the station at Tottenham Court Road, she turned to smile up at him. “You got here ahead of me last night. I spotted you just before you came out of the station.”
He looked down at her. He should probably confess what he’d done.
He’d had to make sure she got back to the hotel safely.
And he hadn’t trusted that alley. But he’d figured that if he tailed her, he’d probably spook her more than anything else would.
So he’d gone ahead instead, checking that there were no obvious threats in her path and waiting at each corner until she reached it.
She misread his silence. “Sorry. That must sound really creepy, mustn’t it?”
He chuckled. “Far from it. In my business, I understand it. Matter of fact, I’m proud of you. Situational awareness is never a bad thing.”
She looked puzzled at that. “I think I understand now. You’re military, aren’t you?” Then she lifted a hand. “Actually, no. You don’t need to answer. I already—”
“That’s okay. That’s a detail I don’t mind sharing. Yeah, I served in the Navy. Been retired a while now, though.”
They covered the rest of the short walk to the hotel mostly in silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. It felt comfortable.
As they approached the front entrance, the two doormen greeted them. Blane had chatted with them a few times by now, and they felt almost like buddies. It was easy to see that they were relieved to see Bea back.
“Glad you’re not arriving back alone tonight, Miss Hartley,” the younger one told her.
A strange warm feeling filled Blane’s chest when she smiled up at him. “I told you before, there’s no need to worry about me, boys. You’re right, though. Tonight, I’m as safe as can be. I have my very own high-level military escort.”
Back inside the hotel, Blane jabbed the button to call the elevator. She chuckled beside him and pointed up at the indicators above the doors. Both elevators were on the twelfth floor again.
“Conspiracy,” he said.
She nodded solemnly. “They’re out to mock us.”
He had to be honest with himself: if it took running out of patience to make the elevators descend, he figured they might not come down until morning. He was in no hurry for the evening to end.
They arrived after a few minutes, and he spent the whole ride up to the twelfth floor wrestling with what he should say.
When the doors slid open, Bea turned to him with a smile. “Well, this is good night, then. Thanks so much for walking me back.”
“My pleasure.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I imagine you will. You know where to find me, even though I can’t say the same for you.” Her smile lingered. “Good night, Blane.”
He watched her turn and go toward her room, wanting to call after her.
Tell her that she could find him. In the lobby, at noon, if she wanted to spend the afternoon together.
Or better yet, in the dining room, for breakfast, at seven-thirty.
The words crowded up in his throat, but he swallowed them and watched her go.