10. Sadie #2
I stir my coffee and stare into the swirl.
The truth is I’ve been imagining it too.
Ever since the beach. The feel of his arm around me, the solid heat of his body, the deep voice in my ear.
I’ve spent more time than I’ll ever admit picturing what it would be like to stop pushing him away.
To let the arrogant, charming, fun-loving bodyguard kiss me until I forget why I made those rules in the first place.
To feel those hands on more than my waist. To find out if that same confidence follows him behind closed doors.
My cheeks burn hotter. I take another sip and hope the coffee hides the flush.
"He is... very good at making me forget to be annoyed with him," I say finally. It’s the safest truth I can offer.
Brooke fans herself again. "Lucky girl. Seriously. If I were you I’d be dragging him home right now instead of sitting here with us."
I laugh despite myself, the sound a little breathless. "We have... an understanding. He knows I appreciate my space."
Melissa raises an eyebrow. "Honey, the way that man looks at you, I don’t think space is what either of you actually want."
Before I can answer, movement outside catches my eye.
Jace is walking back toward the dining room, the other men trailing behind him.
He spots me through the glass and his face changes.
The public smile softens into something private and warm just for me.
He lifts his chin in a little nod that says he’s coming to collect his pretend girl and maybe steal a real moment while he’s at it.
The women follow my gaze and sigh in unison.
"See?" Brooke says. "That right there. That’s the look we’re talking about. You have something special. Don’t let it go."
I don’t have time to respond because Jace is at the table, offering his hand to help me up.
His fingers close around mine and the contact sends a spark straight up my arm.
He pulls me to my feet and keeps my hand in his, thumb brushing over my knuckles in a way that feels far too intimate for public.
"Missed me?" he asks, voice deep and teasing.
"Terribly," I answer dryly, but I don’t pull my hand away. "The women were telling me how lucky I am to have such a perfect man."
His grin widens. "They’ve got excellent taste."
Melissa and Brooke watch us with open envy.
Tom and Richard join them, and suddenly the air at the table feels charged with something none of the other couples quite have.
Jace keeps me tucked against his side while we make small talk about the upcoming regatta and the new restaurant Victor is opening at the marina. I manage to slip in a few questions.
"Victor sounds as if he knows everyone," I say to Brooke. "Has he mentioned anything about new people coming through town? Or any odd business at the docks?"
She waves a hand. "Victor knows everything and tells nothing. That’s his brand. But the restaurant is supposed to be stunning. Private dining rooms, the whole thing. You should get him to give you a tour sometime. He loves showing off."
Jace's hand tightens on my waist once, a silent signal that he heard and is filing it away. We exchange a look that says we’ll talk about it later, in the car, where it’s just us.
The drive home is quiet at first. The club lights fade behind us and the road curves along the dark water. I kick off my heels and tuck my feet under me on the seat. Jace drives with one hand again, the other resting on the gear shift. The silence is comfortable and charged at the same time.
"You did good in there," he says after a while. "The Victor angle was smart. Richard mentioned something about a private party at the new restaurant next week. Might be worth getting eyes on."
I nod. "The women were... helpful. In their own way."
He glances over, and even in the dim light from the dashboard I can see the knowing curve of his mouth. "They were grilling you about me, weren’t they?"
My face heats all over again. "They may have expressed some... curiosity about our personal life."
Jace laughs, the sound rich and warm and far too attractive. "And what did you tell them?"
"That you’re attentive. And that I’m not discussing bedroom activities over coffee."
He’s quiet for a beat. When he speaks again his voice has dropped lower. "Did you imagine it? While they were talking?"
I should lie. I should change the subject. I should remind him of the rules I set on the porch in Halo City. Instead I look out at the passing dunes and tell the truth.
"Yeah."
The word hangs between us. Jace's fingers flex on the steering wheel. The air in the Jeep feels thicker.
"Good," he says finally. "Because I’ve been imagining it since the second I saw you in that bikini. And every time you let me put my hands on you in front of those people tonight, it got worse."
I turn to look at him. The lights from the dash catch the sharp line of his jaw, the heat in his eyes when he glances over. This is the part where I should pull back. Set a boundary. Tell him this is still pretend and nothing more.
Instead I reach across the console and rest my hand on his forearm. His skin is warm. The muscle shifts under my palm.