“Miss Jackson? Are you okay?”
I’m safe. It’s not Ralph, and yet I’m unable to move. I hug the mace even tighter, leaving my tears to fall where they may.
As if sensing all this, Wyatt steps forward and gently prises the can from my fingers before putting it down on the console. He then does something completely unexpected. He hugs me as a mom would hug a distressed toddler.
This is the last thing I’d expect from a man like this. His comforting me to this degree is well beyond what his position calls for. It’s as if he really cares. As if there’s more to him than his tough exterior.
Whatever it is, it’s enough to have the floodgates open and I sob openly, and with embarrassing volume. Only when I’ve got it out of my system, ruining his suit, do I notice the guy, physically.
My first impression looks to have been spot on. He’s all muscle, his subtle aftershave tickling my nose.What the hell is wrong with you?How can I go from being scared senseless to turned-on in a matter of minutes?
Perhaps it’s the adrenaline that had fueled my fear is now focused on something more attractive? It’s enough to have me wriggling to be free of his hold, worried I’ll give myself away.
By kissing him?
Or pushing him onto the bed and jumping him?
Or…
Oh, shut up brain, shut up!
He releases his hold, and I take a step back, all the while staring at the lush carpet. At least this is how it is until he speaks, with the deep timber of his voice hitting me in places that it has no right to.
“Did he hurt you?”
I glance up; mentally crossing my fingers that he won’t read my recent thoughts, although these soon flee. There’s something about Wyatt’s countenance that says if Ralph had hurt me, this guy would repay him in kind.
And I’d be okay with that; it would be nice to have a man looking out for me for a change. No wonder the hotel manager speaks so highly of him.
Still not capable of speech, I shake my head in answer.
“I want you to check something.” He follows this up by taking his phone out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
Soon enough, he’s flicking through a series of images.
What starts out as trembling soon morphs into full-body shudders as Ralph stares back at me from Wyatt’s phone. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a proper look at him, with him doing his best to obscure his face.
Like when he’ll slide up behind me at an event and whisper in my ear, only to be swallowed by the crowd before I get a good look at him.
That’s no longer the case, with the crazed glint in his eyes cutting right through me. It doesn’t matter that the photos are grainy, and the angle is weird, my reaction is studio quality.
TWO
WYATT
Phoebe doesn’t need to say anything, which is just as well, because I doubt she’s capable. Again, I throw protocol out of the window and drag her in for another tight hug. It worked when I was a kid and the foster dad I loved more than my own hugged me, and it works now.
She initially resists before melting against my chest. As I hold her tight, it strikes me there’s something familiar about her and yet I know we’ve never met. It’s something that has me wanting to protect her, to hold her and never let go.
To keep it vaguely professional, I override this innate magnetism, instead concentrating on calming her and letting her know she’s safe.
It’s difficult, with that cover photo of her in a bikini, not preparing me for reality. Sure, she’d looked hot on that cover, but it was nothing compared to being up close like this, to her fitting perfectly against my body.
The other thing that hadn’t been on display on that cover was her tumble of dark locks. Instead, a thick braid had run down her back, drawing attention to her booty as she’d twisted to look at the camera over one shoulder.
It’s the same booty my hands are itching to explore right now. Not fully trusting myself, I help Phoebe over to the couch, before sitting on the ottoman and facing her.
Much as I want to keep hold of her, I need background on this guy, because Liam hadn’t given me anything.
