Page 65 of Bishop's Queen

“You have.”

She looked away and shook her head. “It’s not you I doubted, Bishop. I promise you.”

He touched her chin and brought her face back toward him, letting his green eyes hold hers. “Good.”

This was a moment when she wanted him to step closer, to dissolve the distance and put his strong hands on her bare shoulders and slide them down. Ella wanted the power and strength he exuded over the most mundane things to be worked over her. She would die to feel the starched crunch of his tuxedo shirt pressed against her silky dress, to run her fingertips along his shirt buttons, to push her hands into the warmth of his jacket and slide it away.

Ella brushed her hair away from her face and—oh. She sniffed and realized the Vicks was wearing off.Buzzkill.

“Still stinks?” he asked.

She nodded. “Can I have my bottle?”

He patted his pocket. “Damn. I’m pretty sure that’s somewhere in the interview room.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“The meat is back, huh?”

“Laugh all you want. It’s in the dress. At least I could wipe it off my skin and pull my hair back. But the dress and no Vicks?” She fake gagged. Not the most attractive thing, but definitely the most real. “Best case, it stinks. Worst case, I’ll have a migraine all weekend long and puke on you.”

“Change of plan.” He laughed, shutting her in the truck, and she watched him hustle to the driver’s seat. “We’re not headed home yet. That’ll take an hour, and I’d like to avoid worst-case scenarios.”

He meantherhome. But headed home with him wouldn’t be so bad. Except she couldn’t stand how she smelled.Not sexy.And she was so tired. “I just said I was—”

“Trust me.” They pulled out of the parking garage. He turned down a maze of streets then floored it before sliding his big truck into a tiny street spot with no effort. “Let’s go.”

Bishop jumped out of his truck, rounded the hood, and opened her door before she could process where they were or what was open on the Georgetown strip of bars and restaurants.

“Grab your skirt.” He took her hand, dragging her the opposite way of his car. “Come on, slowpoke. I saw how fast you could hustle out of a packed auditorium in those heels. Move your ass, babe. One, two. One, two.”

“I—”

“Smell like a shish kebab. We’ve been over that.”

Jutting across traffic, she trotted behind him in the killer heels, trying to keep up. “You’re supposed to keep me alive.”

“Hurry, and that won’t be a problem.”

Her heel hooked on a mini-pothole, and right when he expected her to speed up, she went down. Almost.

Her hand was still in his, and his other hand wrapped around her lightning fast. Before her knees hit the asphalt and she became roadkill, Bishop lifted her. He had one powerful forearm under her butt, and the dress that stunk like a vegan’s nightmare hung down over his arm. Now was the time for paparazzi. If there ever was a picture to be taken, it was this one. Her knight in shining armor carried her, while she was dressed like royalty, and her expensive clothing trailed in the night.

Every pitter-patter of her heart raced. Her mouth went dry, and her mind shattered as he held her close and jogged them to the safety of a nearby sidewalk.

The late-night crowd milled, and some clapped. What an entrance. But with her head ducked close to him, no one had recognized her, and the applause were for the save and chivalry displayed by Bishop. He didn’t notice.

“There.” He pulled her from the tuxedoed cover of his chest and put her down gently. His hands lingered on her sides as though neither one of them trusted her to remain standing.

The wordthanksshould have rolled off her tongue, but her pounding heart had simply stopped all semblance of manners. Cool, confident Eco-Ella was tongue-tied. But if he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her again, she would melt away from this crowded bar scene.

He took a step back, dropping his hands, then tilted his head. “Time to teeter-totter your cute vegan butt in there.”

His words sliced the tension. She turned to take in the coffee shop’s sign. “More coffee?”

“Like I said, trust me. And go sit down at a table. Try not to get yourself into any trouble. No videos. No check-ins. No whatever else.”

“Ha, ha. Tara had my purse stashed when we left, and I didn’t grab it.No phone. Didn’t you notice?”

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