He had seen her on her way in but had stayed out of her line of sight. She looked great. Calm. Confident. Focused. She looked like what she was. The CEO of Hedera, Inc., prepared to make a pitch for a grant and fully intent on getting it.
She did not look at all like she had this morning. Eyes wide and burning. Voice trembling with rage and a full octave higher than normal. A few times, two octaves higher. Face tight with her fury at him.
A fury he deserved.
He’d been treating her like she was fragile and it was his job to cocoon her in Bubble Wrap.
She might look delicate, but she was brilliant and capable. He should have known by the way she’d endured torture and then made a phenomenal shot that she wasn’t the kind of woman who needed to be handled. She needed to be included and consulted.
What had he done? The exact opposite. He’d made decisionson her behalf about issues that directly impacted her, and he’d done it without asking her.
The truth was, he didn’t feel as bad about it as maybe he should. If she’d tried to refuse the protection, he would have arranged for it anyway. There was a zero percent chance that she was going to be in this hotel today without her friends having her back. But he still should have talked to her, asked her, and given her the opportunity to express her concerns and make suggestions about how to handle it smoothly with minimal disruption to her routine and plans. As she’d forcefully expressed this morning, she wasn’t an idiot. She would have agreed to the protection.
He pressed into the column at his back. Why was this so hard? He didn’t want to alienate her. He wanted to date her. But after this morning, he wasn’t sure if she’d be receptive to being texting buddies, much less to spending time with him.
He refocused on the door to the ballroom. By the sounds of things, they were wrapping up.
“It was a pleasure to meet you as well.” Tessa’s soft alto came through the earwig. She’d walked into the ballroom at Ivy’s side, introduced herself as Ivy’s intern, and then chatted with them about prosthetics and some of the unique challenges faced by amputees in a way that left Gil stunned. Had she given herself a crash course in bioengineering over the past forty-eight hours?
After the introductions were made, Zane had muttered, “Killing it, Tess” in a low voice that indicated no surprise, only pride. And maybe something else. Yeah. When they sorted Ivy’s mess, Gil was going to have to sort out the Zane and Tessa situation.
Although it might be too late for Zane and Tessa. If Benjamin North moved quickly—and all indications were that he was highly motivated to make Raleigh his home base for the next few years—Zane could be gone by Christmas.
At the end of the hall, Luke, in a navy suit and power tie, strode to an elevator, phone to his ear. To an observer, he would appear to be a businessman focused on a phone call, not a Secret Service agent focused on the hallway. The jacket hid the shoulder holster he wore, and Gil wouldn’t be surprised if Luke had an ankle holster as well.
Faith was also in the building. Unlike Luke, Faith was dressed down. Way down. Sitting casually in the lobby in yoga pants and tennis shoes, with her hair in a messy bun and a phone in her hand, looking for all the world like she was waiting for someone to show and not like she was watching the feed from the camera Tessa had in her glasses. Glasses that weren’t helping Tessa see but were making it much easier for Faith to follow the activities in the ballroom.
Gil still didn’t like it. They’d only had a few days to plan, and they were doing it on their own. Not that they’d gone rogue. Their boss knew what they were up to. So did Faith’s. But that didn’t mean this protective detail was sanctioned by the Secret Service, the FBI, or the Raleigh PD.
As much as it had irked him to do it, Gil had made a phone call to Detective Morris, who, upon hearing what was going on, had a lot to say about Gil, Gil’s friends, Gil’s ability to do his job, Gil’s manhood, and Gil’s parentage. He ended his rant with, “I’ll be around,” and hung up.
Did “I’ll be around” mean he would be in the hotel if they needed him or he’d be around if they all got arrested so he could watch them get booked? With Morris, it was impossible to know. His moods made no sense.
The massive clock on the far wall said it was 4:00 p.m. Ivy had been in there for two hours. He could hear Tessa when she spoke, but he didn’t have clear audio for Ivy. Technically, he didn’t need it,not with Tessa in the room. And as much as he’d been tempted to, he wasn’t watching the video—Faith had that covered. Gil watched everything else. Doors, people, luggage, deliveries, room service carts—anything that moved. And for the most part, while there were numerous opportunities for him to marvel at the diversity of God’s creation, both in appearance and temperament, he’d only had two hits on his personal radar. He’d taken care of them, and no matter what else happened today, he’d done some good work this afternoon.
Gil rested his head against the wall. Would he be able to tell Ivy about this at dinner tonight? If she was still speaking to him, he’d love to share it all with her. He wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on the possibility of a future with Ivy anymore. If he did, he’d start wondering what it would be like to come home every night to a house they shared and tell her about his day, then hear about her day, then make some memories of their own for her to add to her photo albums, and then wake up the next day and do it again.
The future had to wait. In the present, he assessed the men and women in the space around him, any one of whom could be here with the intent to capture and torture Ivy until she gave them what they wanted.
A clicking in his ear drew his attention to the ballroom doors. Tessa emerged, followed by Ivy and three men, all of whom looked like they might be prepared to donate a kidney if it meant they could continue to bask in the presence of the two beautiful women they’d spent the afternoon talking to.
“Dr. Collins, you and Ms. Reed should join us tonight. We’re not your typical science geeks.”
As much as he hated to admit it, the guy had a point. Unless science geeks had changed dramatically in the decade since he’d been in college, the three men walking toward him were atypical ofthe breed. He’d researched the company Ivy was pitching to, and as soon as they knew who was on-site this week for the meetings, he’d done a quick check on all of them.
To keep them straight, Gil had given each man a nickname—GQ, Surfer Dude, and Brutus. GQ was the one who’d just asked Tessa and Ivy out. He was tall, dark-skinned, with a shaved head. And even after a full day of meetings, his dress slacks and dress shirt held no wrinkles. He was the kind of guy who knew how to dress, knew he was good looking, and knew everyone else knew it too.
“He’s right.” This from Surfer Dude, a tanned white guy who looked more like someone had kidnapped him off a beach and crammed him into a suit than what Gil knew him to be—a genius with a gift for designing computer code that mimicked the way nerve endings fired and sent signals to the brain.
“Come on, ladies.” This from Brutus. He looked like he could be a walk-on with the Carolina Panthers and immediately start as a defensive end. He was massive. His neck was probably the same size as Gil’s thighs. But that bulk was pure muscle. He had the look of a man who knew how to use his body, and right now, his body was very, very close to Tessa. As in, his hand was about to land on her lower back.
“We’ll have a blast. You can show us your favorite haunts in Raleigh.” Brutus leaned forward, his hand resting on Tessa’s back as he stage-whispered, “We can regale you with tales of our latest adventure, which I should go ahead and tell you ended with that one”—he pointed to Surfer Dude—“in jail.”
Gil heard a low rumble in his earwig, and he didn’t have to see Zane to know that he was holding on by a thread. Gil could see Luke, and he looked as furious as Gil currently felt as he watched Brutus press closer to Tessa.
Tessa remained cool and didn’t drop the guy like Gil wantedher to, and like she could if she’d been so inclined. Instead, she linked her arm through Ivy’s, and in doing so, twisted her body so Brutus was no longer able to touch her. “No can do, gentlemen. Dr. Collins has a previous dinner engagement with a smoking-hot guy who would not take kindly to being stood up. And I don’t want you to be too jealous, but I’m afraid my plans for the evening include a command performance on a family-wide Zoom call. Acceptable excuses for missing this call include death and incarceration, but, sadly, don’t include dinner with a band of hottie science nerds.”
Brutus mimed being stabbed in the heart. Surfer Dude dropped his head and shook it in overdone sadness. But it was GQ who stretched his hand to Ivy. When she shook his, he gave her a smile that, even from twenty feet away, Gil knew wasn’t the kind of smile he bestowed on just anyone. “Dr. Collins. Another night.”
