Chapter Thirty
Walking down the hall with Amanda on Hagan’s arm was almost as good as staying in and diving under the covers.
Or maybe even better. That logic didn’t add up.
He should’ve been climbing the walls to strip her of everything except those shoes.
But that kind of satisfaction could wait, because having Amanda by his side gave Hagan a new type of gratification.
“What’s that look?” Amanda asked.
Hagan called the elevator. “I’m glad we’re headed to dinner.”
“You’re always hungry,” she teased.
“True.”
She glanced as though she knew there was more. “But?”
“I’m damn lucky to be with you tonight.” He dipped his nose to the curve of her neck and inhaled. “You make me feel ten feet tall.”
Her hair fell away when she arched. “And you make me feel safe.”
“That’s everything I can ask you for.” The mechanical sound of the elevator approaching refocused Hagan. “And, I’ll try to remember we’re here to work.” His hands moved to her backside, sliding over the silky black pants. “I don’t know how good of a job I’ve been doing.”
“I don’t know anyone who could pretend to be my man”—her breath hitched—“better than you.”
Pretend? His palm moved to the small of her back and toyed with the delicate blouse. The fabric was so thin he could feel the warmth of her skin. His fingers caressed the indentation of her spine.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
“Time to work,” he whispered and led the way.
The trip to the main level went fast, and they exited into a flood of bright lights and people. Cigarette and hookah smoke hung in the air. Distant bells and trills called from the casino floor.
She took a deep breath despite the smoky air and shook away the subtle distraction that had softened her to his side.
They followed the well-placed signage to a row of restaurants and stores. He sensed a change. Amanda’s steps weren’t as smooth. Her hold felt too practiced. He wrapped his arm around her waist and dipped his lips close to her ear. “Everything okay?”
“Just taking it all in.”
“You’re tense.”
Amanda shook her head. “Something’s not right.”
Hagan steered them from traffic and found an intimate space between two planted trees. His fingers trailed over her jaw, then down her neck. “Do you see something wrong?”
She nuzzled his neck. “I see something new.”
“Don’t know what that means.” He skimmed his hand across the small of her back. “Keep moving or stay still?”
“Just …” She touched his side. “Get my back to the wall.”
“Like I said, whatever you want.” He tried to keep a certain level of decorum in mind as he nestled them away. Hotel casino or not, this area wasn’t as forgiving of perceived vulgarities. “Good?”
Amanda hummed as though she didn’t like what she saw. “All right. Think so.”
He stepped back. “You sure?”
Uncertainty clouded her gaze. “Only that I need to move on.”
What the hell did she see that he could not? “Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, they walked by a jewelry store and a shop dedicated entirely to purses.
Amanda pulled him from window to window on the way to dinner.
She gushed about all that glitter and sparkle.
He wondered if she actually cared at all.
Finally, they reached an arch of purple lights spotlighting the entrance for Zikrayet.
The host manned a matching podium illuminated in purple. “Can I help you?”
Hagan stepped forward. “Table for two.”
As fast as they were welcomed, they were shown to a table. Their waiter approached with water glasses, greeting them with congratulations. How closely aligned was security and hotel hospitality? Hagan thanked the man, and they selected the seven-course chef’s dinner.
Once alone, Amanda scoped the room in a similar way as he had when they’d walked in. She seemed less interested in the restaurant’s occupants than he would’ve been, but they followed the same protocol.
“Nice choice.” She took a sip of her water and leaned back into her chair. “I think this will be a nice meal.”
“And what do you think of their security?” he asked. “Lots of cameras?”
She grinned. “Yes, but not as many as there should be.”
“Maybe you can’t see them.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “Doubtful.”
He snickered. “You’re right, ya know.”
The first course arrived. Hagan picked up what the waiter had called ‘wisps of aged cheese topped with pancetta’ and swallowed it in one bite.
“Good?” Amanda asked.
Hagan decided that Camden’s killer cheese-sticks-and-bacon casserole could’ve wiped the floor with the chef’s tiny dish. “Tasty.”
She laughed and tried her cheesy bacon bite, agreeing as the next course arrived.
Plate two involved a bowl, but Hagan didn’t point that out.
Plate three was a misnomer, as a tiny plate arrived to ‘cleanse their palates’ just before it.
He would call that plate 2B if forced to include the ‘gelatin made of citrus water with hints of celery’ in their debriefing report.
“I don’t suppose plate four or five will be a ribeye. ”
“We can only hope.”
He snickered. “Are you a slots girl? Or do you like the table games?”
“I like whatever I can beat.”
Hagan thanked the waiter for the Jell-O and ignored Amanda’s kick under the table. “The house always wins.”
“Someone’s winning.” Two lines creased her forehead. “But I’m still not sure who.”
“Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
A ribeye didn’t come with the next course, but he appreciated that it was more substantial. Hagan still finished it faster than he would’ve liked.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He shrugged. “Since when do you ask?”
“It’s a nosy question,” she warned.
He wiped his mouth and leaned back. “Try me.”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
His grin hitched. “Why don’t you?”
“I’m serious.” She gestured. “You already know that you’re a catch.”
His cheeks warmed. Hagan wasn’t sure if he’d blushed before. “Not sure that I’ve thought about that.”
“Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
He rolled his bottom lip into his mouth. “Does playing your husband count?”
“Hagan.”
“No—I feel like this is a test.” He made a face. “Is there a right answer?”
She cringed. “No, and now I feel ridiculous for asking.”
“Don’t.” He sipped the wine pairing.
“I do anyway. Sorry. Ask me something equally as silly.”
With an opening like that, Hagan didn’t have to think. “You and Boss Man.” He set down his wine glass. “Did you two ever date?”