Page 27 of Going Deep
“He…when he shook my hand, and I wanted to let go, he tightened his hold, just for a moment. And he wasn’t taking no for an answer, not until you showed up.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked. “I’ll take care of it.”
She started to tell him that wasn’t necessary, that it wasn’t that bad, then stopped herself. If Michael hadn’t come along when he had, it might have gotten bad. “Thank you.”
He nodded and turned to the bar. “Skip?”
The bartender stepped over. “Sir?”
“Please call Axe at the door and let him know Jake isn’t to be let back on the premises until he hears differently from me.”
The young man inclined his head. “Will do, Boss.”
“Thank you,” Michael said, then turned back to Ginger. The chill in his eyes had faded, and the beginnings of a smile were curving his mouth. “Well, now that that’s handled. Hello, Ginger.”
Relieved, she smiled back. “Hi.”
“Thank you for waiting for me,” he began, then his eyes landed on the glass she held. “What’re you drinking there, darling?”
“Just mineral water.”
“Ah.” He reached behind her to pluck the envelope off the bar, one eyebrow quirked in question. “And this for me?”
She nodded, butterflies taking flight in her belly. “Yes, Sir.”
“Excellent. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable where I can read this, shall we?”
She set her drink down, and placing her hand in his, slid off the stool.
“You look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you.” She resisted the urge to pluck at the shirt as they walked. “I wasn’t sure about the shirt, but Lola was.”
His eyes skimmed over her, lingering on her breasts, swaying gently beneath the soft fabric. “Remind me to thank her later.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she remained silent while they wove through the tables circling the bar. Several people acknowledged Michael with nods or waves, and there were plenty of speculative glances sent her way. But Michael didn’t stop to chat, towing her along behind him until they reached a chair that had been angled slightly away from the rest of them, a small sign on the seat that read RESERVED.
“Here we are,” he said and reached down to pluck the sign from the seat. Setting it aside, he lifted a velvet pillow from the chair and set it on the floor in front of the chair.
She stared at it, then looked up at him. “Is that for me?”
His eyes were a cool, shimmering green in the dim light. “Yes. How does that make you feel?”
“Like I should’ve worn something with a little more give in it,” she replied, looking down at her skirt. “Um, how should I do this?”
“The easiest way is just to go to your knees.”
“Okay,” she said and, tightening her grip on his hand, did just that.
It didn’t feel graceful—and would have certainly been less so without his support—but she managed it without falling, so she decided to call it a win. She settled her butt on her heels, leather straining across her thighs.
“Comfortable?” he inquired.
“Not really.” She winced. “The zipper is digging into my leg”
“Well, we can fix that.”
He crouched in front of her, one hand still holding hers, and with the other, grasped the tab on the zipper. With a flick of his wrist, she had a slit in her skirt. “Better?”
