Three
Ireally needed to stop having preconceived ideas about things.
From the party at the place I had been at the night before, I thought I would be going to another big, fancy penthouse with a panoramic view of the city.
What I got was a house in Highland Park, which was an enormous Renaissance Revival mansion.
I had worked for an architect for five years, so I knew what I was looking at.
If the number of cars in the driveway was any indication, the party was more of a small gathering.
When I knocked on the front door, Eddie answered.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at me. “You made it!”
I took the hand he offered me, letting him pull me into the beautiful house.
The marble floors, the halls that were so wide that you could drive a car down them, the carved and polished wood—it was like being in a museum.
And that made sense since Renaissance Revival was usually only seen in public buildings or homes of the very rich.
He was about to take my army-style jacket when another man came jogging up and said that plans had changed and everyone was heading out to a party.
“We can do this another time, then,” I told Eddie, taking a step back toward the door.
“Oh, look,” the same bodyguard from the night before said, smiling as he greeted me. I noticed the diamond in his right front tooth. “It’s the guardian angel. How you doin’, Angel?”
“Hey.” I beamed at him, extending my hand. “How’re you, Paz?”
He squinted at me. “Did I tell you my name?”
“No, but I heard you say it on the phone.”
He nodded and smiled at me, taking my hand hard, yanking me forward so he could give me the guy clench.
After he mauled me, he let me go, and when I stood back, another man was there as well. He leaned forward, offering me his hand.
“I’m Adan.” He smiled at me as we shook hands. “Nice job takin’ care of our boy last night. We appreciate it.”
“No problem.” I nodded, shoving my hands down in my pockets.
“So, Cristo wants to see you, Angel, and talk to you a little bit, all right? So, you come along with us. We’re headed back downtown. We got a meeting on a yacht.”
“We could just reschedule.” I offered to be nice.
Paz shook his head. “No need to do that. Just follow us, all right?”
“I’ll ride with Jory,” Eddie offered.
“Eddie.”
We all turned to the voice and saw a man coming down the hall toward us. He moved forward until I had to tilt my head back to keep his gaze. I felt his breath feather over my face when he exhaled.
“You’re the guardian angel, right?”
I shook my head. “You’re making too big of a deal out of—”
“I’m Cristo Liron,” he said, cutting me off.
“Pleasure to meet you.” I smiled up at him, shifting my weight to take a step back, offering him my hand. “I’m Jory Harcourt.”
His hand came up, and he wrapped his fingers gently around my throat, stilling my motion.
It was fast—too fast—the way he just stepped into my personal space.
“I’m supposed to do some business, and then the rest of the night is mine,” he murmured, studying my face, looking me over, sizing me up.
“My plan was to meet friends, have some drinks, and then have dinner. Would you join me?”
“I’m actually a little partied out,” I explained, lifting my chin so his hand had to drop off of me. “But maybe—”
“Please.” He stepped forward again, but didn’t try and touch me a second time. “I have to go to this meeting, but I really want to talk to you.”
I looked at him, and he turned and looked at his brother.
“Would you excuse us, Eddie?” he said quickly and then tipped his head at Adan and Paz.
It was just us in his entryway moments later, and I realized what a huge space it was.
“Listen,” he sighed, taking a step closer so I was back to looking up at him. “I was in my den, and I saw you drive up and get out of your car. I had no idea who you were, but once I got a look at you, I wanted to come down here and talk to whoever you were.”
I waited for what came next.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “my cards are on the table. Will you have dinner with me?”
I cleared my throat, taking another step back. “I have a husband, Mr. Liron, and he—”
“Cristo,” he corrected me, moving closer again, his right hand going on the wall beside me, leaning on it, closer to me. “Now, tell me about your husband.”
I took another step back, but he moved with me, again allowing no distance. He wasn’t touching me, but he was crowding me.
“This husband of yours, where is he?”
“He’s away on business.”
He nodded. “I see. And he’s been away awhile?”
I had no reason to lie. “Yes.”
“You’re certain he’s returning?”
“I love him, he loves me, and we live together, so, yeah, he’s coming back,” I assured him with more conviction than I felt.
It wasn’t that Sam wouldn’t want to return, given the choice, but at the moment, I had no idea where he was or how he was or who he was with.
“Good.” He nodded, his smile kind. “I look forward to meeting him, and now we will be friends.”
I smiled at him. “Is that right? You just say it and it’s written in stone?”
“Yes.” He grinned wickedly, and I watched his eyes glint. “We’ll be very good friends.”
The words were genuine, and I found that between how quickly he had backed off, the warmth in his golden-brown eyes, his deep chuckle, and his smile, I liked him. And the man was definitely easy on the eyes.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, muscular, but not overly so, with that whole V-line to him.
His upper body tapered to a narrow waist, and his lean hips flowed down into long, muscular legs that his dress pants were clinging to.
The man looked toned and hard all over, and the skin peeking out of the open collar of his dress shirt was dark bronze.
Gorgeous man—sensual, graceful, alluring.
You looked at him and thought sex in neon lights.
But even as needy as my body was, he was not for me.
Only one man would do, and because he wasn’t around, my baser instincts were locked up tight.
One night of hot, sweaty, mind-blowing sex was not worth losing a man who put up with my bullshit on a day-to-day basis, even if he’d been absent lately for the uphill grind of living with me.
“Angel?”
I realized my mind had been drifting. “Sorry.”
The way he smiled let me know he had already decided I was an airhead.
“Shit.”
He chuckled. “What?”
“Nothing.”
He looked me in the eye for long minutes before he smiled wide. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“I guess not.” I squinted at him. “Should I?”
“No, you shouldn’t,” he assured me before taking a quick breath. “So, Angel, does your relationship with your husband allow for friendship? Especially while your lover is out of town?”
“Ugh,” I groaned.
He let out a bark of laughter. “What was that?”
“Just the lover part. I hate that word. It’s so dated.”
“Is it?” He looked surprised. “Lover’s dated?”
I made another gagging noise, and he laughed at me again.
“You’re adorable.”
I waggled my eyebrows at him. “Wait and see. I’ll end up driving you nuts.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. Let’s test your theory. Have drinks with me and Eddie and my friends and then dinner. We’re eating at my favorite cantina, and the owner cooks special for me.”
That sounded really good. I had been ditching my friends, ignoring invitations, just sort of walking around in a funk for almost four months.
The idea of going out with people who didn’t know me and who wouldn’t press me for answers that I didn’t have was somewhat appealing.
It was like I could quit being me for a second.
“And the gazpacho there is incredible.”
I was warming to the idea. It was still early, and he was harmless after all.
“I’ll drive.”
“Agreed.” His eyes darkened, turning almost black. “You drive; I’ll navigate.”
“Deal,” I said, noticing again how dark and deep his eyes were. The way he was studying me, after a minute, I had to smile. “What are you trying to figure out?”
“Nothing. Come,” he said as Adan and Paz appeared like they had been waiting somewhere close, hovering, listening for their cue to return. “Let’s go.”
As we walked toward my car, he reached over and put his hand on my shoulder. The man was very demonstrative, and you could tell it was just him and didn’t really mean a whole lot. And it was kind of nice, so I let it go. What harm could it do?
I was directed to drive to the Chicago Harbor, where the Dog Star was anchored. I actually had a nice talk with Cristo in my ancient Toyota Corolla wagon on the long drive from Highland Park. Eddie and everyone else followed behind, his brother having allowed no one else to ride with us.
I had him in stitches, explaining about the horrors of Mr. Fisher’s home, his eyes huge when I talked about the giant spool. When I had him get my camera bag out of the back, I pulled up the pictures at the next stoplight, wanting him to see for himself.
“Holy shit,” he breathed out, “I thought you were making it worse than it really was.”
“Who needs to? Look at the macramé plant holder.”
“That’s just horrifying.”
I cackled.
“Jesus.” He was amazed and made me promise to show him the After photos when the renovations were done.
When we parked at the harbor, everyone joined us—a limousine full of people—and I noticed there were a lot of very attractive women in the bunch.
“Don’t feel like you gotta babysit me,” I told him, tipping my head toward a particularly leggy blonde who was giving him the eye.
He directed Eddie to make sure that neither the girl nor her friend slipped and fell in her heels. At the same time, he draped an arm around my shoulders.
We had to climb a ladder to get on the boat, yacht, whatever it was, and when Cristo chuckled below me, I asked him what was so funny.
“Not funny,” he assured me, “just the view is nice.”
I leaned down and flicked him on the forehead.
“Owww,” he said, laughing, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. “God, you’re an ass.”
“Exactly, so stop staring at mine.”
“I don’t think I can,” he growled. “You are put together really nicely, Angel.”