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“I would have been disappointed, but I would have respected your wishes and even if you had refused to sign, I would still have protected you to the best of my ability.”
She nodded. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Baby girl, you can ask for anything. Whether or not I say yes is another matter entirely.”
“Can we go for a walk—maybe to Navy Pier? Last night and being at odds with you this morning has left my nerves a bit jangly. I think a walk in the sunshine down on the Pier would help.”
He smiled at her. She really was the most interesting puzzle. “Let me get a detail together and we can head out.”
“One other thing?”
“Sure.”
“Is there any chance Camille hasn’t returned those things?”
Brock laughed. “You should know that despite my dour demeanor and rumors to the contrary, I’m rather an optimistic guy. The bags are all out by my desk. I was hoping you’d at least sign the contract and that maybe down the road, I could get you to wear something that allowed me to show off just how gorgeous you are.”
She squirmed. “I don’t know how to react when you say things like that.”
He leaned over, framing her face in his hands. His mouth hovered over hers for only a moment before coming down on hers. His lips moved across hers, encouraging them to part and allow his tongue to drag across her lower lip before delving inside.
Brock worked on her mouth as one hand came around her head to fist her silky hair, tugging at it ever so slightly. The slight nip of pain seemed to do something for both of them. She leaned into him, relaxing against him. The gorgeous kitten he’d held in his lap last night was back—so was his raging hard-on.
Reluctantly he broke off the kiss. “I’m pulling away because if I don’t get some breathing space, I’m going to have you bent over this conference room table with your skirt rucked up around your hips and your panties ripped off so I can have at you.”
For a moment her eyes registered shock, and then they flared with arousal and need. “You’ve had worse ideas,” she all but purred.
He shook his head, trying to clear the image from his mind. “I never realized what a brat you could be. Come on, we’ll get a couple of guys and head down to Navy Pier.”
* * *
They wandered around Navy Pier, grabbing ice cream cones and people-watching. It was relaxing and normal, something he rarely allowed himself. He was always industrious and either working or working out. His only vice was watching hockey on Sunday mornings. If he would be good for her, he had a feeling she would be just as good for him.
“I’ve really enjoyed watching you perform on stage. Have you ever thought of doing it professionally?”
“Not really. I think that would take the enjoyment out of it for me.”
“I thought your choice of songs last night was interesting. Everybody else was doing upbeat, rock and roll kinds of songs, and you chose a ballad and had those of us in the audience eating out of your hand.”
“It’s funny. I never cared for the movie and never really found him all that sexy—he’s too lean for my taste, but that song always spoke to me. I kind of feel that way sometimes.”
“You shouldn’t, baby girl. The rest of us are working hard to get into your league. How’d you get started?”
“My father was a preacher. A real fire and brimstone, pounding the Bible kind of preacher, but he never preached hate. In fact, the only things he truly hated were hate, hypocrisy, and cowardice. Like most preacher’s kids, we argued over his religion, and I found myself with a conflict of interest between what I believed and what he preached. It reached the point that I knew I had to leave. I’m not sure they’ve ever forgiven me, even though I still love them deeply.”
Brock stopped her, turned her to face him and frowned. “I thought you said your parents were dead.”
The deer in the headlights look was back. “Loved,” she corrected herself. “I loved them deeply. No chance of reconciliation.”
“Why not?”
“They’re dead, so not much use in trying to have that conversation.”
“Baby girl, I don’t like being lied to, especially by you. Fair warning—there will be consequences for that in the future.” He watched as a small tremor went through her body. “That wasn’t fear, was it?”
Before he could pursue that line of thought, he heard a woman cry out and saw a man wrestling with her to get her purse. Where was the team? He spotted them, but they had dropped back to give him and Alicia some privacy. Every instinct clamored for him to go after the mugger. The need to protect was ingrained in his DNA. With the team closer to Alicia than the escaping thief, Brock sprinted after him. He was closing in when his focus was shattered by the scream that came from where he’d left Alicia.
As his mind registered that, it also appeared that the victim of the mugging was nowhere to be seen. What he could see was Alicia struggling with a man who was trying desperately to drag her away. Brock turned back, pulling his SIG as his men did the same, all closing in on Alicia.
