Page 41 of Loved By You

"I don't like them touching you," I admit quietly, but I know she hears me. Her ocean-blue eyes assess me and soften at my admission.

"Jack, I promise, I'll be careful, okay?"

I nod, knowing she'll keep her word. But just in case, I stay out on the floor for the rest of the night.

I spend the evening keeping a watchful eye on Ria. The club has been packed all night and only in the last hour has it started to die down. Our bar manager, Annabelle, places a drink in front of me. It breaks my attention for a second and I gratefully accept the whiskey on ice. "Thanks," I mutter, keeping half an eye on Ria.

The whiskey slips down easily. Annabelle knows my favorite drink. She and I aren't exactly strangers, but we're definitely not more than a one-time thing either. The guys weren't happy when I told them what happened between us in Miami, but it's not happened since. And it won't again.

"Jack?" I turn to face Annabelle, not realizing she was still standing there.

"What's up?" I ask cooly.

“Can we go through next weekend's events? There are a few big name clients in the VIP book and I want to run some things by you,” she says seductively, licking her bright red lips. When she leans over the bar, pushing her cleavage my way, I know exactly what she’s getting at. "I thought maybe we should talkin your office tonight?" I place my drink down between us, purposefully creating a barrier.

"I think here is fine. I want to stay on the floor tonight."

It's a brush off she needs to hear because right now. All I see is Maria Kennedy. I don't want anyone else.

Chapter Seventeen

Ria

“God, it's packed in here,” Harley shouts over the music as we work the VIP area. I nod in agreement.

I’m exhausted. I've worked the past three nights and I am dead on my feet. I miss the girls and all I want to do is go home and get to bed.

Jack has been here again, and it seems if I'm on shift, then he’s here. His eyes are on me like a hawk and my ego gets a little boost every time I notice him staring like he’s drinking me in.

I’ve never had a man act protective over me and the way he came to my rescue earlier did things to me. I wanted to kiss him, thank him for defending me, but when he walked back to the bar, Annabelle was glaring at me like I'd just stolen her favorite pair of Jimmy Choos.

I haven't asked, I've not wanted to know the answer, but I get the sense there is some history between Jack and Annabelle and it bothers me more than it should. I have no claim to him. He can do what he likes with whoever he likes, but it does bother me. However, I need this job, and pissing her off is not high on my to-do list, so I keep my head down and do what I need to do so I can get home.

I head back to the bar, trays full of empty shot glasses and champagne flutes ready for the glass washer. I’m mindlessly stacking them, when I spot Jack and Annabelle have moved over to the booth towards the back of the room. A sensation I have no business feeling creeps over my skin, making me sweat. It's probably business talk. Right?

That's all it is.

Then why are you still staring?

Slowing my stacking, I take just a little extra time to spy on them, but people keep getting in the way.

For fuck’s sake, move.

“Ri, you okay, honey? You’re bobbing your head about like you’re stalking your prey,” Harley shouts over the music from next to me, while polishing glasses.

That's exactly what I'm doing.

I let outa fake laugh. “I’m good. I thought I saw a friend, but it isn’t her.” I need to get it together and calm down. I inhale a deep breath and slowly release it, grabbing a dishcloth from the side and begin to mop up the mess on the bar top.

He isn't mine. I can’t be mad that he’s talking to another woman.

Finally, the crowd breaks and I have a full view of them. I watch as Annabelle slides closer to Jack, whispering something in his ear. Credit to Jack, he leans away, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than sitting with her.

Her tacky red nails drag over his exposed forearm and I watch, clutching the cloth in my hands until my fingers ache. I'm not sure I'm breathing either because, when Jack removes his arm from her reach, I let out a deep breath.

Get it together.

Jack points at the papers in front of them, but Annabelle seems to have absolutely no interest in them at all. I watch, unable to think straight, as her hand slips under the table and everything in Jack's body tenses. That's when I snap, throwing the cloth down. My feet storm towards them without a forethought.

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