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Probably not. I couldn’t imagine Sandra saying anything negative about Lane. She would’ve told X how talented Lane was, how beautiful he was, how he could think quickly on his feet, and that he had a smile that made people want to do exactly what he said. He’d gotten that from his father—except his father’s charm had never worked on me. I respected the hell out of X, but I’d never wanted him the way I wanted Lane. Sure, if he had asked me to get off with him back in our army days, I would’ve said yes just for the stress relief. But X hadn’t been blessed with whatever caused my common sense to short-circuit like his son had.
“Go on and get packed so we can get on the road.” While he was packing, I hoped to strategize my way out of this.
Lane made an exasperated sound. “You do realize it’s going to take a while, right? As I explained earlier, I’m preparing for a gallery show. My mother may think it’s simple to pack up the things I need, but it’s not. I have several pieces I’m working on which consist of multiple elements as well as the tools and paint I’ll need to complete them. Everything has to be packed very carefully. And then I’ll need clothes and toiletries and—How long will we be there?”
I blew out a breath, reminding myself he was a client. “We’re staying at a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It doesn’t matter what you wear, just pack up what you need to work with and a few changes of clothes.”
Lane looked at me like I’d said something shocking. “Do I look like a man who doesn’t care what he wears?”
I remembered the absurdly tight jeans and glittery shirt he’d had on when I’d met him. He’d looked so damn hot, and he’d known it.
“And we won’t be at the cabin the whole time, not with art museums and galleries to check out.”
He had to be kidding. “This isn’t a vacation. We’re going there so you stay out of sight.”
“I’m not sitting in a cabin for God knows how long. I’ll lose my mind.”
If I kept up this argument, I was going to say something I regretted. “Just get to work on packing. If it takes too long, we’ll stay here tonight and go to the cabin in the morning.”
“We? So you are staying with me?”
“I’m working on that. Someone will stay here. If it’s me, I will be out here on the couch, and you will be in your bed.”
He grinned. “So fucking bossy.”
“And you’re going to do what I say because that’s the only way I can keep you safe.”
“Are you like this with all your clients?”
“Yes. Most people want to do what I say since they expect me to save their lives.”
“I don’t think—”
“I’m being paid to do the thinking.” How did he manage to rile me up so easily?
He raised his brows and gave me a flirtatious little smirk. “So I’m just here to look pretty?”
“That’s not what I meant. Get packed.”
“Yes, sir.” He gave me a mock salute and walked off. I couldn’t take my eyes off his perfectly rounded ass as he sashayed toward his bedroom.
“I’m going to check the place out while you pack. If we stay here tonight, I need to know all the possible entrances and exits.”
Lane stopped in the doorway of his bedroom and turned, one hand on the door frame. He was fucking posing. I was sure of it.
“The door you came through is the only entrance, and I have a security system.”
I snorted. “One a baby could hack, and you have plenty of windows.”
“I’m on the third floor.”
“Fire escape?”
He frowned. “Well, yes, but…”
“Like I said, you’ve lived a sheltered life.”
“I keep the windows locked, and I—”
“Let me do my job.” I was not going to yell, no matter what he said or did.
“Fine. Look around while I pack more than a few changes of clothes.” He tossed his head dramatically and walked into the bedroom.
I had an urge to follow him, drag him across my lap, and spank the hell out of him. He needed it, and the thought of his ass red with the imprint of my hand made me hot as fuck. Jesus, how was I going to survive this?
I needed to call X, but I couldn’t do that until I had a strategy. I had to come up with a way to get out of this job without telling him why I couldn’t do it. Maybe if I was enough of an asshole, Lane would complain to his mother about me and X would take me off the job.
Except X knew me better than that. He knew I was damn good at what I did, including getting clients to follow orders. When you have to rescue people from terrifying situations in the field, you learn how to put them at ease. He’d know that if I wasn’t doing that, I was screwing up on purpose. I might not be very sociable by choice, but I knew exactly how to ease a person’s fears and convince them to accept the help they needed.
