When MacNiven had turned him away yesterday, Danny had gone back to his hotel room and had a pity party. He’d beenthisclose to hopping on a plane back to London. But what did he have to go back to? The same problems, that was what.
In London, he wouldn’t have a chance to see her again, either.
He’d realized he had to see her again. It felt as important as taking care of the situation in his home. In a way, they were linked; he needed to resolve one to resolve the other.
And MacNiven was the key to both.
So he’d put his big boy pants on and decided to come back to convince the man to take him on. He hadn’t imagined that he’d be rewarded by running into her again.
Her. He shook his head as he got out of the elevator and let the doors close behind him. “The other day I was so blown away by you that I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Danny Gilbert.” He used his real name instead of his professional name, not because he wanted to protect his identity, but because he wanted her to knowhim.
He held his hand out.
She stared at it for a long breath before she slipped her hand in his. “Julianne. Jules.”
“Jules,” he repeated. He held her hand, running his thumb gently against her soft skin. “That’s perfect for you because you’re like treasure.”
Her brow furrowed at that, as if she was trying to discern whether he was being real with her.
He was, and he saw the moment she realized it.
God, she was beautiful. Her hair was in a sleek twist at the nape of her neck, and her lips were shiny, as if she’d just reapplied lip gloss. She wore a suit under her wool coat again, but this time with a skirt—well past her knees, but it was still a skirt and he could see her calves.
They werenice.
Shapely, covered with dark, sheer stockings. He wondered if they were the thigh-high kind. He could imagine the contrast against the pale skin of her bare upper thigh.
The last thing he needed to think about was her thighs—not here outside Winners Inc. and definitely not before he got to know her better. He lifted his gaze back up to her face.
She wore very subtle makeup that downplayed her eyes rather than showcasing them, as if she was trying to dull their impact. But he could see the intelligence there as well as the beauty. He’d never liked a lot of makeup.
Then he noticed the tightness at the corners. Frowning, he stepped forward, pulling her hand closer to his chest. “Are you okay?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’m fine.”
He narrowed his gaze, looking deeper. “Why don’t I believe that?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, glancing away in a way that belied her statement. Then she shook her head and met his eyes. “Are you a client with Winners Inc.?”
“I’m working on it,” he replied. “Did someone in there say something to upset you?”
She laughed mirthlessly. “I’m paying them a fortune to upset me enough to change my situation.”
He picturedhissituation and extrapolated why someone as put together and seemingly strong, like Jules, would be here. His frown deepened. Had someone hurt her? “You aren’t being harassed by a man, are you? Do you need help? Is there something I can do?”
She blinked at him. “You mean it. You’d actually ride in on your motorcycle and try to save me.”
“I don’t have a motorcycle,” he said in confusion.
Her lips tipped up at the edges. “I thought all bad boys have motorcycles.”
He leaned against the wall, closer to her so he could catch the fresh scent of her hair. “You think I’m a bad boy?”
“Aren’t you?” She looked him up and down, her gaze lingering on his neck.
His tattoo. She must have noted the edge of it where his collar was open. “Wanna see it?”
“You’d show me?” she asked. To his surprise—and pleasure—she stepped closer, putting her hand on his chest.