Page 44 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

Esme really had taken care of this.

“Yes. But now instead of hauling off my would-be attacker, they’ll probably be hauling off the man throwing all the punches.” Disappointment clouded her eyes. “Damn it, Renzo. Why couldn’t you let me handle this my way?”

Because I was afraid you’d get hurt.

“Because this isn’t a professional problem, this is a threat to your safety.” Why couldn’t she see that this wasn’t about him being overbearing? She should have asked him to go with her this morning in the first place. “It’s one thing to buy a car on your own and another to have a face-off with a menace to society.”

The sirens grew silent as a squad car pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing in a hypnotic rhythm through the office window of the perv eating carpet but still conscious at their feet.

“Point taken.” Her words clipped, she tensed as the boots of at least two police officers clomped their way down the long corridor. “But by the time you arrived, I had it handled. Done. And the police were on the way. Would it have killed you to let me enjoy feeling like I took care of business on my own? Did it occur to you that maybe I needed this to be my victory?”

Her quiet honesty humbled him faster than any other woman’s railing ever had. And hell yeah, he could understand her view.

“When I saw you were hurt, I couldn’t think about anything else.” No Cesare would conscience seeing a woman disrespected like that. It was part of the genetic makeup.

“You also couldn’t be bothered to listen to me. And that’s something I really, really need from someone in my life, Renzo. I need my voice to be heard.”

Esme’s friend was already greeting the police while her ex-boss made an effort to stand. But all Renzo could see was the tear in Esme’s eye. A tear he’d put there.

“I would have listened to you about anything else. I know never to touch your television remote again. I didn’t tag along when you bought your new car. But this is different. This guy tried to hurt you.” How could he look himself in the mirror if he let anything happen to her?

By now the police were helping Esme’s jerk-off ex-boss into a chair. Any second they would be turning to him and Esme to ask them questions.

Esme shook her head, her blue eyes pinning him with unyielding determination. “And I can’t work with someone who refuses to listen to me. While I’m grateful for the business opportunity you gave me, I think it’s time for me to get back to my art history career. I have the feeling the museum will need a new executive director in the not too distant future. Besides, now that I’ve leveraged most of my contacts to inform them of your business, you’ll be raking in plenty of sales without my help.”

His gut sank. She would really do that?

Fear for the rest of their relationship clawed at his gut.

“Did it ever occur to you that this isn’t about me needing to take charge?” Why couldn’t she understand he was just scared out of his mind? “I was worried about you.”

She tilted her jaw in a classic show of stubbornness. “You wouldn’t have had to worry if you’d let me get a word in edgewise.”

“Maybe this isn’t the time to talk about this when we’re both upset.” He lowered his voice as the police approached them. “We could talk later--”

Unfazed by the arrival of a blue-uniformed audience, Esme shot back, “If you really want to talk, you’re going to have to listen, too.”

Before they could debate the issue, a stony-faced police officer interrupted them. Of course, while Renzo answered questions about his involvement in knocking Miles Crandall into yesteryear, he had plenty of time to come to the conclusion that Esme was giving him the boot—personally and professionally.

As he watched her answer questions and make her official statement to the police, Renzo saw even more evidence of her quiet strength and steely resolve. If he ran into this woman in Club Paradise today, he wouldn’t be so quick to intercept her. She definitely didn’t look like the kind of female who needed saving. Despite her delicate pink blouse and antique watch, Esme possessed a new, level look in her blue eyes that said she could bring down the house if need be.

Well, damn.

What if he really had blown it for good with her this morning? Had he truly been unforgivably high-handed this morning by giving Miles Crandall what he damn well deserved?

Not in his book. But he had to admit, maybe he wouldn’t have been so quick to mete out frontier justice if he’d known how important it was for Esme to kick the guy’s tail herself. Which, apparently hewouldhave known if he’d been paying better attention for the past two weeks.

Unwilling to let her shut him out of her life because of one dumb-ass mistake, Renzo wracked his brain for a way to prove to her he could listen. How could he show her that, if he had to do it all over again, he could sit on his hands if she wanted him to?

By the time the police were finishing up their questions and— thank God— taking in this Crandall creep on a minor assault charge, Renzo had the beginnings of a plan in mind.

He just hoped Esme’s matchmaking neighbor would be amenable to setting her up with therightguy this time.

ChapterFourteen

Bad decision number five thousand forty, letting Mrs. Wolcott talk her into coming to Club Paradise tonight.

Esme steered her car into the line for valet parking and rued the moment she got sucked into a return visit to South Beach’s hottest singles playground. Of course, in the two weeks since she’d told Miles Crandall where to get off and watched his sorry butt hauled off to jail for a night, Esme had made her fair share of good decisions, too. She’d come a long way from the woman determined to ignore her instincts and take a few risks the last time she’d walked into the Moulin Rouge Lounge.

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