“Did you call Sloane?” he asked.
She nodded and held up her cell phone. “And her agent.”
Margot Conway was a shark who could eat the best of lawyers alive for lunch without breaking a sweat. “Good move. You left before Jules shut down Mason. It was glorious.”
Her hesitant eyes brightened. “Really?”
Rhys nodded.
She set down her phone, nodding as though she’d believed that would happen but was terrified it might not. “Would you like a coffee while you wait?”
He definitely didn’t need coffee. He’d be back here in the morning before he knew it, but should he wait? He’d planned toslip out as quietly as he’d slipped in. “Has she been doing okay? Before this?” he asked, knowing it was none of his business.
“The wedding was a lot of work.”
“I bet.”
“The movie’s doing so well. She’s happy with that, but…” She tilted her head from side to side. “She needs a break.”
“She’ll be at St. Barts by tomorrow.”
The woman shook her head. “Not a vacation.A break. Someplace quiet. To catch her breath.”
The sister-moon could be quiet, but that was a temporary two weeks. He wondered about her stalker. That headache had been quiet for the past few weeks. Maybe they’d moved on. That was doubtful but always a possibility.
“Coffee?” she asked again.
He shook his head. “I have to run.”
He retraced the path from the kitchen then went out of his way to pass the library again—where Mason was no longer ranting—to the warm night and the waiting Escalade. He pulled himself in and shut the door. The engine and air conditioning hummed. Both the driver and Wes looked up from their phones.
“She’s okay?” Wes asked.
The driver raised his eyebrows. “She didn’t need backup?”
Rhys tugged at his collar. He hated these suits, especially during summer. They were hot and restricted his movements. He shrugged. “She has it handled. I wouldn’t mess with Jules Lowry.”
Wes made a noise from the back seat, then muttered, “Bet you would.”
Rhys turned, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that?”
Wes cleared his throat and pointed to it with a smirk. “Scratchy throat.”
The driver wouldn’t have heard Wes, but Rhys had loud and clear. There were lines Rhys didn’t cross. He knew exactly which one Wes was pointing at. “Watch yourself.”
Wes feigned innocent just as he had the times he’d suggested over the years that Jules watched Rhys the way that Rhys would never admit to watching her.
“What’s the plan?” the driver asked.
“Head back to the hotel—”
“To get a good night’s sleep before the honeymoon,” Wes added, chuckling.
“Then back here at oh four hundred.” Whatever thoughts Rhys had ever had about Jules didn’t matter. His only job was to keep her safe, and that was what he’d always done. Anyone who didn’t admit she was a beautiful woman was a liar.
Anything else would be unethical, inappropriate, and impossible.
Chapter Seven
