Michael spoke up. “Are you ready to leave? The driver’s here.”
Since he was closest, she handed him her room card and her cell phone. Nick carried the garment bag Regan had packed.
“We’ll see you there,” Regan called from the doorway. “If you need anything, text me.”
Fortunately, the elevator was empty. When the doors closed, she turned to her three escorts. “Thank you for giving up your Friday night to help me.”
“We’re not giving anything up, Isabel,” Noah told her. “We want to be here.”
Flanked by Noah and Michael, Isabel crossed the lobby, and Nick followed behind.
Michael was proud of her. He knew she was scared, but she wasn’t letting it show now. She walked like she owned the world. There was such attitude in the way she moved, and those hips... damn. Then he noticed he wasn’t the only one appreciating Isabel. It seemed to him that every man in the lobby was watching her, and why wouldn’t they? She was beautiful and desirable.
Great. Hell if he wasn’t lusting after her again.
“Michael?” She whispered his name.
“Yes?”
“Stop glaring.”
Her hand brushed against his. She didn’t grab hold. He did. He slipped his fingers through hers and gave her a little squeeze.
“I’ve got your bottle of water,” he told her, then turned to take the bottle from Nick. “This is all you drink. Understand? You don’t drink anything anyone else gives you.”
She thought he was being a little overprotective and suspicious, but then she noticed Noah was nodding agreement.
“You’re going to be okay,” Michael said. He leaned down and whispered, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I know.” As annoying as Michael could be sometimes, she always felt safe with him. He would never let anyone hurt her.
Uh-oh. She could feel herself getting teary-eyed. She didn’t dare cry, not with all the eye makeup she had on. She wasn’t sure what to do. She liked Michael more when she was fighting with him, but he was being nice to her now—a rare occasion, to be sure—and that was why she was becoming emotional, she reasoned. Now was not the time to fall apart. She needed to put a stop to it before he said something really sweet.
Then it came to her. “Michael, you’re going onstage with me when I sing.”
His answer was swift. “The hell I am. Are you out of your mind? Why in God’s name would you think I would go onstage with you?”
“But I thought—”
“Oh, hell no.” He was glaring at her now.
And things were back to normal.