Page 87 of Sweet Temptation

After Elle and I had our coffee and girl talk, a few of my other friends arrived. I’d asked Wendy, Jewel and Carissa to come over and help plan the party for tonight.

Ronan beat me to the front door with his long legs, and greeted them like a big, sexy, unsmiling bouncer. Though at least he didn’t ask for ID. He seemed to tolerate me introducing them instead.

When I introduced him to Wendy and Jewel, I said, “This is Ronan. He’s a superhero. Super Ronan.”

“Hi, Super Ronan,” they sang.

He shook hands with each of them, and I could practically see him making mental notes of each name and memorizing each face. Carissa was looking her usual fabulous bohemian-chic self, Wendy’s dark skin was an endless map of artful tattoos, and Jewel, in his skinny jeans and guyliner, looked like my bodyguard could snap him in half.

I wondered what Ronan was thinking, and what his friends were like.

He followed us into the living room and sat at the bar, sort of fiddling on his phone and basically eavesdropping while we hung out a few feet away in the living room, “party planning.” Basically, we put on music and mixed cocktails around him at the bar while dancing and goofing around.

Occasionally, Ronan glanced up from his phone and checked us out.

He seemed particularly interested in Jewel, the only guy in the room and a former lover of mine. We’d slept together a handful of times over about a week of semi-dating, and we’d been good friends ever since. He was happily hooked up with Wendy now, but Ronan was definitely staring him down, and I wondered if there was any way he could know that we’d been together.

Or was he just planning to stare down all my male friends that way?

When we actually got to the planning part, like talking about who I should invite tonight and what antics we should get up to, Ronan started vetoing our ideas, according to his security protocols. Apparently the fog machine and the guest DJ were out, and he wanted my guest list ahead of time. Like preferably now.

And apparently, all my friends’ “weird aliases” wouldn’t do. He informed me of this with his eyes locked firmly on Jewel. He wanted “real” names, first and last.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” I grabbed his rock hard bicep and tugged him off his stool. He followed me into the hallway, where I planted my hands on my hips and informed him, “You’re being a buzzkill.”

“That’s not my intention.”

“A giant buzzkill. Are you planning on controlling the guest list? Like, do you want to just invite your friends instead of mine? Would that make you feel better?”

“I wasn’t planning on that. But I’m capping the list at twenty people, and I’m bringing in a few guys to keep an eye on things.”

“What kind of party is that?”

“The only kind you’re getting right now.”

My mouth fell open. “Excuse me? You work for me. This is my house.”

“And right now, we need to send a message that you have security. You and your house are secure. Your home isn’t public property, and anyone who wants to come over treats you and your property with respect. I’m sure anyone who’s truly your friend will not only respect that but appreciate it and be happy to play along for now, in an effort to keep you safe.”

Well, damn. How could I argue with that?

The man had an incredibly solid point.

“Fine. Fuck, you’re good at this.”

I could’ve sworn the slightest smirk hit his eyes.

“Do not get cocky about it. I hate losing arguments to men.” I did. It was also kind of a turn-on. “And by the way, if you’re at the party, you’d better be part of the party.”

“I’m not here to party. I’m here to work.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, I turned on my heel and went back to dancing with my friends. “Licky (Vandalism Remix)” was playing, and I couldn’t let a song like that go to waste. I turned it up, Carissa handed me a martini, and I danced on one of my giant ottomans, which I’d always thought of as more of a stage than a seat, with Wendy. Jewel and Elle were tinkering with my party light system, and it might’ve only been four p.m. and daylight outside, but it already felt like a party.

Fuck it. I could make a party out of twenty-thousand people, or twenty. Or five. None of this security shit was gonna kill my buzz.

A few songs later, Ronan left his station at the bar and headed for the front door. I caught his eye and he lifted his phone as if to say Taking a call, before heading outside.

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