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“Ike.”
Beau didn’t need to say the name. She knew exactly where Ike was. She’d meant who was Ike approaching that had Beau so upset. Beau had been laidback all night, and everybody obviously liked him and wanted to talk to him. No threats yet.
Her eyes widened as she watched Ike speak to Bermuda Gray and then offer his hand to her while his other hand wrapped around her tiny waist encased in a slinky teal-colored dress. A flare of jealousy unlike anything she’d ever experienced made her body uncomfortably hot and then cold.
The couple moved fluidly together. As smooth as Ike moved all the time, especially when he was fighting. She should’ve guessed he could dance like Harry Jowsey.
Ike was more handsome to her than the Dancing with the Stars star.
But she was jealous, and annoyed. Ike had flinched almost every time she’d touched him today. Until he’d gotten accustomed to her touch. She’d assumed that meant her touch was unique and startling in its intensity and with their shared connection. What if it simply meant he was averse to her touch?
Her stomach dropped.
“Laugh like I said something really funny,” Beau urged.
She laughed at his stupid request. “What is this, high school?”
“Please, Myra. You’ve been so great, and I truly appreciate you and Ike. You can pummel me worse than you did this morning when we get back to the house, but please, please help me look good right now.”
She focused on Beau, and a compassion she didn’t know she’d ever experience for the superstar athlete dug at her. Beau Alexander looked humble and desperate.
“Okay,” she agreed. She grinned and laughed, squeezing his shoulder. “Oh, Beau, you’re hilarious.”
“I know, gorgeous. I know.”
“Pardon me,” Ike’s deep, appealing voice came from the side.
Beau immediately stopped dancing.
Myra let herself look at Ike. His blue eyes were intent on her face. The jealousy fled and was replaced by intense longing. All she wanted was to be in his arms. Was there a world where he could be interested in her? He looked incredible with the gorgeous and famous actress in his arms. Bermuda was much smaller than Myra and the epitome of graceful and seductive female. Myra liked to spar with men and only wore girlie clothes when it fit the role she was playing. She kept insisting Ike not protect her and that she was a professional. A man like Ike instinctively wanted to protect everyone, but most especially the lady in his life. Bermuda was a true lady who needed a man like Ike.
Despair and jealousy fought for dominance as they all studied each other.
“Apparently there’s a decree to switch partners,” Ike said smoothly. “You two game?”
Myra’s body lit up. She was a yo-yo of emotions right now. All foreign, but the warm, happy longing for Ike was thrilling.
“Yes, please,” Myra and Beau said at the same time.
Myra laughed at that, and Ike’s smile grew. Beau released Myra like she had the flu and wrapped Bermuda up before the gorgeous blonde had a chance to protest. Bermuda was the only one not smiling.
“How have you been?” she heard Beau say softly to Bermuda.
“Not as good as you,” Bermuda snipped back at him, glaring at Myra.
The two danced away.
Ike tilted his head slightly and stared at Myra with an almost worshipful look in his blue eyes. Maybe he was attracted to tough female bodyguards and not ultra-thin and famous blonde beauties.
He eased in closer and said for only to her hear, “I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier tonight … you are breathtakingly beautiful.”
Myra’s heart stopped and then took off at breakneck speed. “Thank you,” she managed. She’d had men tell her she was beautiful and they had felt like surface compliments. Ike’s words and expression touched her deep inside. “You are devastatingly handsome.” She meant it too. The most devastatingly handsome man on earth.
They both darted their eyes around the room in the most casual way, checking on Beau and everyone else. It was another dance in and of itself, complimenting each other and having full confidence that their back was covered and their asset was secure.
“Thank you.” Ike smiled and extended his hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?”
The formal words should’ve made her laugh, but they felt … respectful and substantial.
