Page 60 of Seductive Scoundrel

A million irrational thoughts run through my head as I shimmy behind a garbage can. The logical part of my brain knows I should casually walk by. He probably won’t see me, and if he does, I can just say I’m here to meet a friend. That’s true – mostly.

The crazy part of my brain, however, has me glued to the spot, considering every possiblebadoutcome. Like Dex terminating his deal with Dean, or telling GI Jane that I have a conflict of interest and am operating unethically.

Even though I tried to talk to her about it, I have no doubt the drill sergeant will fire me to save face with her boss. This audit is a huge deal for TBA, and if it goes sideways, so will I.

My phone buzzes.

Dean: Are you lost? Or maybe you changed your mind about me and met a retiree you like better?

Mia: Very funny. I’m on my way. It’s a long walk. Be right there.

Or so I hope.

Dex starts meandering towards a gate and I will my poor legs to get moving. Fueled by desperation to keep a job I don’t even like, I sprint down the hall clutching the suitcase to my chest like a baby. Once I hit the next set of terminals, I slow down but don’t stop until I make it to where Dean is waiting.

At the door, I unclench the suitcase from my heaving chest. Sweat is pooled across my forehead and back, and the reflection in the glass doors tells me that my hair resembles something closer to bedhead than the smooth curls I styled this morning.

“What the fuck,” I say out loud, earning me looks from those standing close enough to hear, but I don’t care. My dress is wrinkled, my hair is a disaster, I’m sweaty, my feet are killing me – and Dean’s waiting for a woman who doesn’t look like she just climbed out of a dumpster.

I run a hand through my hair, then across my damp forehead before striding out to meet Mr. Big. If he has a problem with how I look, too damn bad.

“Oh, Mia, are you okay? What happened?” Dean asks as I near the red convertible he’s leaning casually against, looking like a million bucks.

I force my lips to curve into what I hope resembles a smile. “I’m great. I was just helping someone.”

His eyes sweep over my face then body, concern contorting his expression. “Helping someone escape prison or scrub down a washroom?”

“Yes,” I simply reply, leaning in to kiss him because I just can’t help myself.

Even though I expect him to give me a quick kiss and then maneuver away – because I’m completely gross right now – he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls me closer, kissing me like I’m the most gorgeous woman in the world.

“Why don’t we head back to the hotel? I’ll help you clean up,” he whispers against my mouth.

Despite my ordeal, the suggestive tone in his voice makes my core contract.

I need him more than I’ve ever needed any man – and I need him now.

* * *

After we’ve showeredin a bathroom bigger than my apartment, we cuddle up in a bed so comfortable that I’m considering asking for a job as a chambermaid. Even making this bed would be like heaven, although I’d probably get fired for eating all of the pillow chocolates. Dean let me have his, which was smart because I was prepared to wrestle him for it – that chocolate is as divine as this room.

Our suite at the Breakers, Palm Beach, overlooks the water and is filled with dark wood paneling and pristine white furniture. After spending two nights here, it’s going to be hard going back to ghetto living – and being away from Dean.

“So, beautiful, what would you like to do for the rest of the day?” he asks.

The way he’s looking at me makes my stomach flip-flop. I remind myself for the millionth time that work is his priority and I need to reign in my feelings for him before I get hurt. But that’s getting harder and harder every day.

“I made reservations for a seafood restaurant Dexter Senior recommended,” he continues as I just stare at him, “but the way you’re looking at me has me thinking we should order room service instead.”

“As much as I’d like to spend the evening in bed with you, the beach is calling,” I lie.

If we stay here, he’ll spend hours inside me and I’ll only want him more. Spending time with Dean is like playing with a loaded gun. It’s exciting, but you know that eventually, you’re going to get hurt.

“What I’d love is to grab some fish and chips and a beer, and then go sit on the beach. I saw a sign in the lobby that says they light bonfires around 9. How perfect does that sound?”

“You’re giving up a three Michelin Star seafood restaurant for take away fish and chips?” The surprise etched on his face shows me he thinks I’m crazy.

The scary part is that he’s probably not far off.

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