Page 7 of The Right Guy

HUNTER

A few moments earlier

I remindmyself as to why I’m here. There is something greater in play here and I can’t be distracted. That’s the reason I didn’t follow Catherine into Frankie’s office. The reason why I didn’t insert myself and offer to walk through her concerns.

She has a keen eye, an attention to detail, and a sense of responsibility – all attractive traits. But it was more than that that caught my eye.

It was the long flowing hair swinging in waves whenever she moved. It was the pace and ease of our conversation that told me she was enjoying our chat as much as I. When she turned and we nearly bumped, and our gaze locked with one another, I nearly lost the ability to breathe. She is an intense beautiful puzzle that only shows glimpses to the layers upon layers that exist below.

It would take time to peel away each layer - time I don’t have. And if she ever shifted her perceptive abilities in my direction, the secrets I hold would be jeopardized. Which is why I had to hand her off to Frankie.

Tours are above my pay grade. Besides, I need customers to see how useless Frankie is and to keep him busy so I can continue to do what needs to be done.

My shift has ended. I change out from the grubby work jumpsuit that is in serious need of a wash or ten. My mind races to wandering the halls and stealing one final glance at Catherine. It’s the reason I perform a quick change - pleased with my outfit choice.

My first two days here, I wore jeans and a ripped t-shirt, wanting to fit in, but the hall has so few employees these days that I barely run into anyone on my way out. So now I have no concerns putting on my usual, much more comfortable outfit of dress slacks and an aqua green polo shirt. My day started at six a.m., and I’ve seen enough of the futility of this operation. Only a few more days and I’ll have everything I need to know.

As I step out of the locker room and make my way through the lobby toward the parking lot, I hear the voices. The raised tone of a woman threatening someone not to touch her. My blood boils when I recognize the voice. Catherine.

I force myself to slow my pace from a near sprint as I approach the end of the corridor. Two bodies in view in the middle of the lobby. A white man, blond hair and an entitled smirk on his face, is in her personal space. I pick up bits of the threat - You’re still as single as the day is long. Just as I predicted when you left here. You’ll always be alone.

His focus is on Catherine, his words hinting at a shared past. She steps around him and twists back when he invades her space yet again. From where I stand, I see the hurt just below the surface of her steely determined eyes.

“Don’t touch me again, Palmer.”

I can no longer control my feet, two long strides in her direction, an overriding need to step in and protect the stranger even if it jeopardizes my job.

She captures my gaze, a twinkle in her eye, a warm look of recognition that hits me in my chest. A similar look to the one she gave me earlier, one that says I see you, all of you, and I’m happy to meet you. It’s unlike most of the dismissive looks I’m used to receiving as an African American man when I put on a work uniform.

I remind myself that I don’t know her, but that doesn’t matter. I know plenty of men like Palmer. Entitled men who are used to taking what they want. My gaze remains locked on Catherine, letting her know she isn’t alone. My silent steps close the distance as I take in more and more of their heated conversation.

I quickly put two and two together and when she lifts her hand in my direction, I immediately know what I must do.

“There he is now. My man.” Catherine’s perfectly timed introduction is like a flashing strobe light on an airport runway. All I have to do is follow her lead and stick the landing.

“Catherine, so sorry for being late.” I step around Palmer, ignoring his presence, and pull her into a hug. She smells of honeysuckle and mint.

She throws her head back and giggles. My hands landing above her hips, I feel her skin through her thin top, a softness I’d like to explore more.

“Your timing is perfect. Just like you.” Her words throw me for a loop, as do her actions. Her grip tightens around my neck, and she presses her lips to mine.

I twist her away from Palmer to hide the surprise I’m sure must be written across my eyes. She runs a tender finger through the back of my hair, the sensuous move letting me know she needs more than a quick peck to convince her audience this is real. Adaptation is my middle name.

Surprise evaporates from my body as I take control of the kiss. Our lips soften and my tongue slides across her lower lip, which she opens with consent and a desire that has my entire body reacting. I’m not usually one for public displays of affection but for a beautiful woman like Catherine, I will give her everything she needs. My senses are on high alert, and I do what I do in every other part of my life, I read the signals.

It’s what I do, it’s what I’ve trained to do. But for once I can’t. It takes a cool head and a calm heart to process a wave of nonverbal communication. And right now, I possess neither.

I stroke a strand of her silky hair away from her face and around her ear as our eyes lock. That damn sexy sparkle in her eyes shooting a fire right to my core. How in the world have I just had the best kiss in my life and it’s all make believe?

She bites on my lower lip, a bold move that tells me there is so much more behind the put together facade she presents to the world. And I curse myself for believing for a second, I’d ever get to see it. She presses her forehead to mine and a sexy as hell giggle escapes her lips. My gaze ping pongs from her lips to those mesmerizing eyes, unsure which is more appealing.

She leans her body away, our foreheads the last thing separating, and she slips her hand into mine as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Her giggle turns into a scoff that she spits in Palmer’s direction.

“I’m sorry, not sorry. I can’t help myself when I’m around Hunter. I hope that wasn’t too uncomfortable for you.” She delivers the line with a sexy confidence that has me wanting to whistle and applaud.

Palmer’s gaze locks on me for the first time, the corner of his eyes tightening. “Hunter, huh? It’s funny, I’ve never heard about you.”

Catherine’s hand tightens in my grip, but this isn’t my first rodeo. I deal with disrespectful people for a living. “That’s funny, I was about to say the same. Catherine has never mentioned a Palmer to me before.” With my free hand I tap my chin with my index finger. “Ah, wait, she did tell me about some overly protective, jackass of an ex that refused to get the memo.” I release her hand and clap my hands together loudly in front of Palmer. “I’m sorry, she did tell me about you.”

---