Damn you, Boss!
He now found himself fixating on things he wouldn’t have thought twice about fifteen minutes earlier. Fixating onHannah.
“So?” she prodded. “What do you think?”
His glance was startled. “About what?”
A line formed between her eyebrows. “About the email exchange.” She turned her head to the side. “Are you okay? Maybeyou’rethe one suffering from low blood sugar.”
“I’m fine,” he brushed her off, glad his expression hadn’t given away his thoughts. For a second there, he thought it had. “I’m just a slower reader than you.”Liar, liar, pants on fire.“Gimme a sec.”
She opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut when Lizzo’s voice suddenly blared to life. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she frowned and then pointed to the monitor. “After you’re done reading those emails, scroll down and read the others. I need to take this.”
“Boyfriend?” When that familiar pang zapped through him, he convinced himself, once again, that it was simply fraternal misgivings.
Of course, when she said, “It’s Cesar,” he didn’t look too closely at why he was relieved. “Should I tell him you’ll be at the next show?”
“N—”
That’s all he got out before she thumbed on the phone and cried, “Bestie! You’ll never guess what Sam just told me. He’dloveto come to your next gig. And if you could arrange it, he’d be honored to come backstage and meet the rest of the girls.”
When Sam caught her eye, he ran a thumb across his throat in a slashing motion. In response, she winked and blew him a kiss. Then she hopped from the chair, pressed a hand to her ear to drown out the sound of Becky working the grinder down in the shop, and ambled toward the stairs to have some privacy for her conversation.
He didn’t watch the sway of her hips as she walked away.
No. Nope. Negative. He most certainly didnot.
23
“How’s it going?” Cesar whispered. “Tell me everything. Is he as yummy as you remember?”
Hannah glanced over her shoulder to find Sam studying the computer monitor. He had one of those profiles that screamed masculinity, so hard-planed and angular and…hairy. And the way his mouth pursed as he sucked on the Jolly Rancher was suggestive.
Correction.Everythingabout Sam was suggestive, from his loose-hipped walk to his broad-palmed hands.
“He’s yummier,” she admitted grumpily.
“Take a photo. I need to see.”
“Youhaveseen. I showed you my sister’s yearbook. Take that image and imagine him leaner, meaner, and with a full beard.”
“I have a terrible imagination. I need actual, factual footage.”
“I can’t do it,” she hissed. “He’s only fifteen feet away. He’ll know what I’m doing the minute I take the phone away from my ear and hold it up.”
“You don’t have to beobviousabout it. Just act like you’re checking email or something and snap a sneaky pic.”
She was tempted. If for no other reason than to prove to Cesarwhyshe’d been hung up on Sam since…well…sinceforever. As good as he’d looked in his high school baseball uniform, with that patented Samuel Harwood grin? Well, multiply that by about a hundred, andthat’swhat she—and her horny, horny hormones—were dealing with now.
“I’ll see if I get the opportunity later,” she promised.
“Fine.” Cesar pouted. She couldn’t see him, but she could tell by his tone he was pouting. “Can you at least tell me what he does? Were you right? Is he a spy? Or…ooh! He’s like a real-life Jack Reacher, isn’t he? But is he, like, the Tom Cruise Jack Reacher or the Alan Ritchson Jack Reacher? Please say Alan Ritchson. That man is…”
“The spitting image of Pete. Except maybe a little beefier.”
“Oh my god. You’re right. Why didn’t I see it before?”
“I’m thinking you were too busy ogling all Pete’s bronzed muscles and didn’t pay too much attention to his face. Which is a shame. It’s a damn good face.”
