“And you weren’t going to tell me before you left?” His fingers haven’t stopped gripping my arm, and the glassiness in his eyes tells me he’s probably had more to drink than I initially thought.
“I’m sorry, it was very last minute.” I place my hand on his wrist and tug my arm free. “Our chat was very special, though, so thank you. Have a good night.”
I turn away, but he grabs me again. “Julia, wait—”
“There you are,” a deep voice booms with more than a hint of irritation in its clipped tone.
I look up straight into fiery eyes. To say they’re amber wouldn’t be quite right, yet they aren’t chocolate or hazel, either. More of a—I narrow my eyes as I study them—smoky quartz. A captivating gray with a hint of gold.
Unfortunately, for all their beauty, I know their owner too well.
“Yes. Here I am.” I give a tight smile, wondering which is the lesser of two evils—grabby Mr. Gas Station, or the owner of the deep voice in front of me.
“And you are?” Grant moves closer behind me, and I close my eyes momentarily, swallowing in disgust as his hot, sour breath hits the back of my neck.
“Reed Walker.”
He leans around me, all expensive cologne and designer suit, somehow maneuvering me at the same time so that he’s now positioned between me and Grant as he extends his hand. The corners of Grant’s eyes pinch as he shakes it warily. With the subtlest pull of his arm, Reed has Grant almost tripping over his own feet as he jerks him closer.
“Your night’s over. She’s coming with me,” Reed says in a slow, commanding voice.
“Julia, who is this jerk?” Grant peers around Reed’s broad frame at me. His shoulder spasms and his left eyes twitches, his hand still firmly wrapped in the tight handshake. Reed, the bastard, is standing cool and unaffected. There’s no question about who is controlling this situation.
Reed tips his chin over his shoulder toward me, the streetlight illuminating his smooth jaw.
“Julia?” He raises one mahogany brow questioningly and lets go of Grant’s hand. Grant immediately draws it in to his body, cradling it protectivly.“Yes, that’s my name.” I shuffle my feet nervously, willing him not to say anything to contradict it. Having an extra evening job as a honey trapper isn’t ideal, but I need the money. The last thing I need is for the agency to find out that a client discovered my real identity. It’s their biggest no-no. I’ll have my ass fired faster than Grant is willing to drop his pants for a stranger.
Reed turns his attention back to Grant. “I’mJulia’sboss. And we have a work emergency. So, if you don’t mind.”
I glance at Reed, masking the surprise on my face. He’s not my boss. But I’m impressed he thought of that so quickly and is making a fine job of being convincing.
“No, no. Go ahead.” Grant’s voice pitches as he backs away.
He gives my breasts a final, parting leer as Reed glares at him. And then he turns and walks off.
I wait until he’s disappeared back inside the bar before turning my attention back to the man radiating heat like a furnace next to me.
“Thank you, but I was fi—”
Reed turns to me, unleashing the full effect of his glare on me. Golden flecks blaze in his eyes as he stares down at me, his broad frame towering above me.
“Don’t tell me you were fine. Who the hell was that asshole? Why did he have his hands all over you? And do I even want to know why was he calling you Julia?”
He does this. Shows up all the time when I’m busy trying to work at my day job as the PA for Griffin Parker, the owner of The Songbird hotel, New York’s most prestigious hotel, in prime position facing Central Park. But I’ve never seen him when I’m honey trapping. He’s either following me or this is the world’s weirdest coincidence.
I cross my arms over my chest in defiance. “That’s none of your business. And he didn’t have his hands anywhere.”
His jaw ticks, tension taking over his face as strands of his warm brown hair fall forward. “His hand was on your arm.”
I follow Reed’s accusing gaze to the faint red mark that’s fading on my skin.
“It’s nothing.”
“Did you really start doing it?” His eyes are back on my face, and I can feel their heat trying to penetrate me. Trying to unravel me until I spill my secrets.
This is another thing he does. What he’s good at. You don’t get to where he is in politics without a knack for knowing when people are bullshitting you.
I made the mistake of telling him once—so long ago I’m shocked he remembers—that I was considering signing up to a honey trapping agency to help me pay the extortionate Manhattan rent prices. I explained that I could live off the island and commute to work every day, but then I wouldn’t be available as easily at The Songbird if there was something urgent Griffin needed help with. Well, that’s the reason I gave Reed; I couldn’t tell him the real reason I needed the extra money.