Page 20 of Buck

“Where are you?”

“Fashion Valley.”

“Is it possible for us to meet somewhere downtown? I’m at my check-up with my doctor, and I’ll be here for another twenty minutes, then the drive.”

“Sure. I’m staying at the Grand.”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he said. “And, Mari, I’m glad you got the wrong dress and I have a chance to see you again.” His tone was an intimate, velvety warm baritone, vibrating with that irresistible cowboy charm. She remained motionless, her breath a little ragged as she heard the click of his phone disconnecting.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Feeling as if she was heading for something phenomenal and dangerous, she released all the air trapped in her lungs. She texted him her room number.

Back at the hotel, she pulled her hair out of the messy topknot and braided it to the side. She added a little blush, then spent the time waiting for him by pulling up the website for the Gaslamp Quarter. Work would get her crazy mind to regulate. Her sheer bra suddenly felt too tight across her breasts. She sat on the very comfortable couch and read the information regarding the Gaslamp.

Even though she was anticipating it, the knock on the door startled her. She set her tablet on the coffee table and went to the door, working at containing her excitement.

When she opened the door, she was so primed for him, and nothing, not one thing about him, disappointed her.

“Hi, darlin’” he murmured. “Special delivery.” His gaze shifted to the room behind her, giving it a quick scan, and she had to wonder if that was the warrior in him, an ingrained impulse to scrutinize every situation for danger. There was nothing in her suite that was even remotely dangerous, unless you counted the calorie-laden chocolates in the basket the hotel had sent to the room. All that danger was standing on the threshold with his tall, dark, and handsome threat, eyes that could slay, and a mouth to die for.

Special was exactly the right word. “Come in,” she said.

His gaze shifted back to her. A rush of adrenaline shot through her veins and a heady mixture of awareness and delicious anticipation curled low in her belly. Okay, hope rekindled inside her. She’d spent two months reliving the electric chemistry between them, but evidence was mounting that she had been wrong. She’d never been so happy to be wrong in her life. Now it was just a matter of finally doing something about all that potent sexual tension that had them both on edge around one another.

He came into the room, filling it full of his presence. She closed the door and turned. He once again gave the suite a once over, noted the box on the round table, and went toward it. Setting the box he was carrying beside it, he lifted the lid, pushed away the delicate tissue paper with those big, capable hands of his in a gesture that was so gentle, her gut knotted with the need to feel them on her skin.

“Wow. The picture was pretty, but the dress is even more beautiful in person.” He fingered the soft fabric and brushed over one of the stars. “Daisy is going to look so good in this. I might have to tote my shotgun to the prom to make sure that Halloran boy treats my sister with the respect she deserves.”

“I’m sure that will make her prom so very memorable,” Mari said with a huff of laughter.

He shifted his body to look at her. “Yeah. She’d disown me.” He settled the top back on the box but made no move to pick it up to leave.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure. You got some pricey booze in here?”

“Yes, how about bourbon or scotch?”

“Bourbon, neat,” he said as he walked over to the couch and sat down. He noted the tablet and looked up at her. “So, what brings you to San Diego?”

She went to the small bar and poured two fingers of bourbon into a cut crystal glass, then pulled the cork on the white wine bottle she’d opened last night and filled a glass halfway.

She brought the drinks over to the couch and settled next to him, handing him the glass. “Work. My father has finally decided to trust me with expanding our shops in the US. We’re starting with the West Coast from California to Washington. This was my first stop.”

“And you’re thinking about the Gaslamp Quarter?” He nudged his chin toward her tablet, removing his sexy hat and setting it on the coffee table.

“Yes. I thought it would be a great place for our headquarters, and the first shop.”

He smiled. “And who would be running this do you think?”

“Probably me. I’d split my time between Costa Rica and San Diego. At least, that’s my plan if things work out.” She took a sip of her wine, so sensitized to him that she was conscious of every movement, every breath. She wanted to touch him so much, as if that would fill up the emptiness inside her and replenish her soul.

“Puts you squarely in my neck of the woods. I’m definitely not opposed to that.” He downed the two fingers with a toss of his head, set his empty glass on the coffee table, then leaned toward her. “I’m hurt, by the way.”

Her questions were unsteady. “What? Why?” She was caught off guard by the sincerity in his eyes and his comment, something in his face making her pulse race.

“You didn’t look me up, Zazu,” he whispered, reaching out and fingering her braid. “And you practically ran away from me at Windsor’s.”

“You said you had plans for tonight, and I was hoping…I wanted to see you. I was going to try to track you down through the Navy, but I’m not sure that would have worked, seeing as you’re a special operator, and I’m sure your personal information is staunchly guarded. I thought you weren’t interested.”

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