Page 41 of Resurrection

“I’m in the mood for a burger and a beer. What are you going to get?” I tip my lips up. “Oh, yes. You can’t drink tonight. Just the burger, then?”

Carys twists a ring on her right hand and gives me a sideways glance. “You weren’t serious about that bet, were you?”

“All bets are serious. Always. I don’t make them unless I can win. And when I win, I collect.”

Our gazes connect before mine wanders over her body, the ever-present desire humming between us once more.

“I would’ve been happy to have you collect if you’d won,” I say.

A dull pink rises to her cheeks. “You don’t even know what I would have asked for.”

I chuckle. “Don’t I?”

Her blush darkens, and I laugh again.

“On your right,” Jay says as we sidle up to the hotel. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“Dinner at the hotel, I guess.” She closes her purse. “You can go to your room. We’ll be fine.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You can eat at another table or in the lobby. We don’t understand what’s going on. You’re not minimizing the little security you have. If anything, we should call in more people.”

Her jaw tightens, and she purses her lips. “I’ve never been under a direct threat before.”

“There was that stalker,” Jay chimes in from the front before taking a valet spot.

“Years ago,” Carys says. “And in Chicago, which was both better and worse. I had lots of guards.”

“You had a stalker?” I frown, wondering where this person might be now.

She gives me a wry look. “He saw me in a magazine. Had a vision we were married. With kids, no less. He had a very elaborate life cooked up.”

“What happened to him?”

“Got too close for comfort.” Jay slides out the driver’s side. When he opens the passenger door for Carys, he continues, “Ended up being committed to a psychiatric ward by his family.”

She climbs out, and I round the car, my gaze zipping the perimeter for any threats. If she stays in the same hotel, it would be very easy for someone to track her. “How long ago?”

“Ten years.” She glances at Jay for confirmation. “It was the catalyst for my relationship with Eric.”

“Eric didn’t seem like such an asshole back then,” he clarifies.

She grimaces. “Oh, he was always an ass. He just hid it under fancy clothes for a while.” When she gazes at me, her expression changes, but I can’t read it. “Most men don’t turn out to be who you think they are.”

I’m not sure which of my missteps she’s talking about, but the comment is aimed at me as much as Eric. Being lumped in with that arrogant prick makes me clench my fists. I deserve her wrath for things I did in the past. Knowing she’s been messing with Eric off and on for the last ten years causes an ache in my chest. A relationship with him is nothing like what she talked about having—the opposite, actually.

With a final check around the area, I lead the way into the hotel. Jay slips the keys to the valet who comes out to greet us. I enter the building first, followed by Carys, and then Jay.

“You’re eating at the bar?” He nods at the big open space in front of us. Stools line the bar, and a few tables spot the perimeter. Off to the right is a dimly lit restaurant. Bright bar. Dim restaurant. The wise choice is lit up, a neon sign. Lights. Less atmosphere. Business versus pleasure.

“We’ll eat in there.” I gesture to the restaurant. Who doesn’t enjoy living on the edge? With Jay in mind, I scan the bar, I say, “You eat—”

“Table right there.” He points to one straddling the main hotel entrance and the door to the restaurant.

“Table right there,” I confirm.

Carys rocks on her heels, her purse clutched in front of her, tapping her knees.

“Hungry?” I take in her hot-pink skirt and her fluttering black shirt again. My fingers itch to remove the tight bun at the base of her neck, flick my tongue across the spot below her ear that always makes her moan.

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