Page 57 of The Twilight Theft

A server brought Emmett a glass of water, which he chugged down. Overall, it was a convincing performance.

Emmett had stopped her from leaving with him. They could have been leaving in different vehicles, but Emmett had interrupted any private words between Jayce and Wyatt. As Emmett stood, he put his arm around her shoulders again and glanced back at me with a glare that repeated his order.Don’t be a jackass.

Chapter 23

Jayce

Missionprepwasnormallytactile. Was my outfit tight enough? Did it move the right way? With my eyes closed, could I feel the location of each tool strapped to my body or in my pack? I would run my hands over my hair to ensure it was flat against my head, with no risk of strands falling out.

But for the Tremaine gala? Mission prep was in front of a mirror. Was my makeup on straight? Did my hair look nice in the complicated knot Scarlett had tamed the short tresses into? Did my one-shoulder pale pink dress show off any panty lines?

Once upon a time, that had been my life. Living in the spotlight, wearing a skintight leotard, with my face and hair done up to match my team. Why did it feel so foreign now?

Because it’s been twelve years, Jayce.

Tonight would be an adventure if nothing else. From the way last night had gone at the restaurant, it was possible the job wouldn’t be the only adventure. Wyatt had worked hard, flirting up a storm—including the ridiculous palm reading he’d done about a handsome man whisking me away from all my troubles.

He likely thought he’d be rewarded tonight if we pulled everything off without a hitch. When I’d reviewed the levels of physicality allowed during undercover—level one was holding hands, and level two included touching the waist, back, or shoulder—he’d suggested we try level three. We were only going lightly undercover, so kissing was off the table.

His response? ‘Gotta leave room for improvisation.’

But from the look in his eyes when he saw Emmett arrive, pulling his drunken act, Wyatt must have known the truth.

No one got close to a Reynolds woman unless the Reynolds men approved. They were the closest thing I had to a family. Better than family, considering my past.

But would they do the same thing if I was no good at my job?

There was a knock at my door. My ‘date’ had arrived.

“Coming!” I picked up my clutch and headed for the door. There was no way I’d give Wyatt James an excuse to come into my hotel room. When I peeked through the peephole, my legs almost gave out underneath me.

That’s not Wyatt.

I flung open the door and snapped, “What are you doing here?”

Drew Freaking Donovan. Good thing I had so few words to say to him because my throat had completely closed over. I’d thought he was jaw-dropping before but in a tuxedo? With his hair styled just perfectly so it swept off to the side, begging me to run my fingers through it? And his delicious cologne invading my senses?

“You look…” His gaze slithered down my body, sending a trail of heat in its wake. In my imagination, his hands made that journey, his mouth sucked on my breast again, and the throbbing between my thighs grew with every second I ground down on his hard cock. It had been less than forty-eight hours, and I could still feel his hot breath on my belly. “Beautiful.”

“Save it, Downie.” I pointed to the door across the hall. “Your date’s over there. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the obligatory compliment.”

I slammed the door—at least, I tried to.

He got a foot in the gap and pushed it open. “Emmett didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I stepped backward into the room, maintaining my distance as he came in.

He closed the door behind himself but didn’t pursue me. Didn’t even reach for me. “He and I had a reasonable discussion about Wyatt’s role on this job, and we reverted to the original plan.”

I folded my arms rather than throwing something at him, like I wanted to. “Are you forgetting how much of adistractionI am? Can’t have you screwing up another job because of me.”

“I’m sorry.” Drew raised his hands as if in surrender. “I let my emotions get the better of me and put you in a position you didn’t want.”

Yeah, right. I’d wanted it too much. But I wanted something different from what he did.Thatwas the real problem. His need was purely physical and I was done with those kinds of relationships. Someday, I’d find a man who fit that small spot in my chest, but if not, I wouldn’t compromise. Empty sex—hell, empty making out, apparently—brought out my darker side, and I needed more from life.

“I promised Emmett I’d be professional.”

“That should be interesting.” I walked away from him, to my suitcase on the other side of the king-size bed. There was one thing I’d forgotten. The chocolate bar I’d stolen, then snuck back in and bought legally. I’d been saving it as an end-of-job reward. But I was going to need it.

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