Page 54 of Hot and Bothered

“I’d best see to my guests.”

She lifted a slender shoulder in a half shrug, though it was clear his resistance bugged her.

It felt like it was going well, except for the weird Monica situation. Sexy lounge music flowed like mead from the speakers, the crowd was relaxed, the vibe was brimming with potential. Why then did he feel like his internal organs were in a cage match in his chest and his lungs were taking a pounding?

It might have something to do with the fact Jules was catnip and all the big felines were circling her, looking for a rub.

A quick scan of the room revealed Doctor Dreamboat chatting with Cara and no sign of Jules. At least she wasn’t with Conor, who had left on a call to duty. Neither of them were right for her. Sure, he knew dick about the doc and Conor was a decent guy but hell if he was good enough for Jules.

Now he sounded just like Jack, speaking of which.

“Well done,” Jack said, sidling up to him. “You didn’t screw up once.”

“Don’t get all mushy, Jack.”

They shared a knowing stare down. Jack’s crash into their lives a couple of years ago had not exactly been the beginning of a beautiful friendship. While it took Tad less than five minutes to figure out that Jack’s intentions toward Lili were honorable, the street didn’t run both ways. Jack’s protective streak where Jules was concerned was as wide as it was long, with good reason.

Jack watched the bubbling crowd in that lord-of-all-he-surveys way he had. “You seem tense.”

“Critics.”

“Fuck ’em. I learned a long time ago that you can’t please them all so don’t even start trying. Just keep doing what you’re good at—what you should be doing—and the rest will take care of itself.”

Wasn’t that the crux of the problem? He loved wine and yes, he was good at it but he wasn’t sure it was what heshouldbe doing. It certainly wasn’t what Dad wanted and as for Vivi… he had told Jules that his mother was a great admirer of bravery, yet every day he felt like he was stuck on pause. Too much of a coward to grab what he truly wanted. This was supposed to be his dream, the way back to himself, but he still felt as empty as ever.

He needed air.

A few moments of man-to-man trash talk later, he escaped Jack and the hip-as-shit crowd. Heading for the back office, his gaze snagged on the door to the alley, curiously ajar. Just as he was about to curse one of the staff, the heavy door was wrenched open and Jules stumbled inside.

She looked like he felt. Disheveled, brain-tangled, not quite present.

“Jules, what’s wrong?”

Her vacant stare passed right through him. Around her phone, impossibly slender fingers clenched like talons. Something—or someone—had happened to her.

“Is it Evan?” He grasped her shoulders, barely registering the silky slide of her skin above the fact she was cold as ice. A knot of panic unraveled in his chest. “Jules, has something happened to Evan?”

She blinked and came back to him. “No, Evan’s fine.” And then with determination, “Hewillbe fine.”

Whatever that meant. Under his touch she shook, instantly belying those resolute words. Gathering her close was the only course of action open to him. He couldn’tnotdo it.

“Mio tesoro, I’m here.” He wrapped her in his arms, sheathed in that stiff armor crafted by Armani, and felt his whole body relax as it found its place in the cradle of hers.

She shuddered against him, finally letting go of whatever she had been holding onto.

“Oh, Tad.” Her voice was husky, desperate, and he felt it right in his groin. His body clenched at the possibilities. Frantically, he searched for common sense and a smidgen of whatever decency he might have left. She was upset and she needed him to be her friend, not to paw all over her like some animal.

“Did somebody touch you, Jules? One of those guys in there?”

If Doctor Perfect or that Conor asshole had so much as laid a finger on her—with or without her permission—he was going to deal a heavy dose of deliverance with his hands.

“No—nobody touched me.” The words came out wheezy, as if there wasn’t enough oxygen to support them. She was rattled about something but he knew her well enough to know she’d need time to get it out.

His gaze dipped to her breasts, her creamy flesh abundantly spilling over her dress’s neckline like ripe, golden-white peaches.Neckline.A misnomer if ever he’d heard one judging by how distant it was from her actual neck. Up close for the first time this evening, he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra. Generous curves pulled against the folds of her dress, mesmerizing him. Last week’s kiss had allowed him to get up close and personal with the shockingly soft pillows of flesh but tonight, in his arms, she felt more exposed to him than ever before. Just…more.

Stop ogling her, you damn dirty ape.

“I just needed some air,” she said, unaware that he was devouring her like she was his last meal on death row.

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