Page 17 of When I Had You

Or maybe I’ve been reading her wrong all along, and she tricked me into her little lair to have her way with me.

I shift my dick.

She drags her gaze from my erection to my eyes and shrugs. “You make it so fun to push your buttons.” Poking me in the chest, she adds, “Why are you wearing sunglasses in a nightclub anyway?” Taking them from my face, she puts them on and smiles like we’re spending the weekend in this place.

She looks better than I do in them. “To keep from being recognized.”

“I think you’ll need more than sunglasses, Cash.”

“That’s big of you to admit.” Guess she’s ready to drop the act that she didn’t know who the fuck I was at the track yesterday.

“What?” She feigns innocence, which I’m starting to think is her fallback. I’m also beginning to believe she gets away with a lot because she’s so hot or because she’s a Westcott. I don’t imagine she hears no very often. “That you’re a hotshot race car driver, according to you, who can’t go into a dark club without getting recognized?” A quick huff leaves her mouth. “If you’re going to draw all of this supposed attention, I shouldn’t have called you.”

I reach for the glasses, but she backs away and crosses her arms. So fucking hot and cold. “What exactly was your plan again? Why are you hiding out in a bathroom?”

“I called someone who promised my dad to take care of me.” She rests back on the edge of the sink and stares at me like she’s searching for answers.

“Bullshit. Why’d you call me, Marina?” Leaning against the door across from her, I say, “Look, this was fun, but it’s late, and I’m not in the mood to play these games with you.” I’ve fucked up by being here. I need to be in top condition, and I’m playing tit for tat with her at two a.m. “I’m tired, so we need to wrap this up.” Squeezing the bridge of my nose, I try to restrain my rising temper from tipping to the boiling point. “I promised to get you back to the hotel safely after dinner. Not to be your bodyguard as you go dancing around Miami in the middle of the night.”

“Morning.”

“Exactly.” I shift my disposition along with my feet, trying to devise a plan, but our only option is to walk out of this place. I look at my watch. Fuck. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but I have a race today with millions of dollars and my career on the line.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” She sounds surprisingly sincere. Coming close again, she places the glasses back on my face and carefully pushes them up the bridge of my nose. “I called you because I knew you’d help me get out of here, that you would understand.”

I catch her wrist, gently holding it between us before lowering it. “Understand what, Marina?”

Our gazes are fixed. Despite the loud music on the other side of the door, I can hear her swallow before she whispers, “I shouldn’t have gone out. My agent wanted me to be seen, so I went out.”

“Alone in Miami?” The anger, the upset, the smart-ass comments and slick tongue are forgotten.

The virtue shines in her eyes as she exchanges her trust with a modest smile. “My friends hooked up and left me.”

“You need better friends.”

“I’m starting to think I need a whole new life.”

Her honesty makes me feel . . . something. I rub my chest to break up the knot. “I’ll get you out of here.” I grab the doorknob again. “Stay close.”

“We can’t go out there, Cash.” Panic rises in her tone. “The paparazzi will ask me about Corbin.”

“That’s what this is really about? Your ex-asshole of a boyfriend? Competing for headlines?”

She takes a shaky breath, a nerve left raw in her exposed expression. “I wasn’t thinking.” Looking down as shame washes through her pretty features, she pauses. As if to collect herself, she summons her eyes to look up at me again. “It wasn’t my best idea, but at the time and after more wine in my room . . .”

I exhale a deep breath, wondering how she thought either of us would get out of here unscathed. “I’ve had the shittiest ideas over the years and made plenty of bad decisions, so I get it. Alcohol only fuels that fire.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to think of anything that makes this makes sense. “You called someone the paparazzi loves to harass and has been following all over Miami to help sneak you out so you can avoid the paparazzi. There may not be a clear path out of here without being seen.”

Her eyes stay on mine, but not a word escapes. As the silence lengthens between us, she finally replies, “You were my best option.”

“I’m your only option since Liam Hemsworth wasn’t available.”

She cracks a smile, and the sight instantly lifts my mood.

“I’m going to get us out of here, but tell me why they’re targeting you. I deserve that much.”

She rolls her eyes, getting some of her spunk back. “Other than I’m in movies?”

“What’s the story beyond you and your ex not being together anymore?”

---