Page 19 of Missile Strike

After they stepped off the escalator onto the second floor, he matched his steps to hers. Time hadn’t dulled her body’s reaction to him. Her fingers itched to caress the new-to-her planes and angles of his face and tangle in his hair. Her body felt hypersensitive, as if her skin carried the memory of his touch. Her lips tingled from his phantom kisses.

Life was so unfair. Why couldn’t he be fat or balding? Why did he still have that California swagger, that panty-dropping smile, that playful sparkle in his eyes?

Oh God, what if he were married? Trying not to be obvious, she snuck a peek at his left hand. No ring. No tan line to hint at a ring.

Not that it meant he wasn’t married or didn’t have a fiancée or a long-time girlfriend.

Get a grip.

Danny’s personal life was irrelevant.

And she’d keep telling herself that until this event was over and he was gone.

Once they arrived at the ballroom, Isabella forced herself to pay attention and take notes on her tablet. Table layout, stage setup, audio-visual equipment, linen options. The open lobby at the top of the escalator, next to the main ballroom doors, would serve as the reception and cocktail area. Melody promised to email the final menu options.

Danny remained silent. Isabella observed him beneath her lashes as he examined the space.

He pointed to the bank of elevators on their left. “Where do those lead to?”

Melody answered. “The parking garage. Most attendees enter the ballroom level directly from the garage or through the front lobby, then via the escalator.”

“I’ll need the layout of every access point, including the ones used by staff that aren’t open to the public. And a list of the names of all employees working the event.” Danny handed Melody a business card. “My email address and cell number.”

“You’ll want to meet with Grant Marks, the hotel’s head of security,” Isabella said before Melody could reply. “I’ve already discussed with him how to manage traffic flow and worker credentials to ensure the safety of our guests.”

Danny’s brows lifted. “You have?”

Something warm unfurled in her chest at the admiration in his eyes when she’d been expecting dismissal.

She ruthlessly shoved it down and lifted her chin, giving him a cool stare. “Of course. I plan events for a living. Security is always a factor I take into consideration.”

She turned to Melody. “I’ve got everything I need for now. I’ll be in touch with our final guest count.”

Melody nodded. “Feel free to stay and have a look around.” She shook their hands and disappeared down the hall.

Isabella fiddled with the hem of her blazer and stared longingly at the elevators as the air between her and Danny grew thick.

He broke the silence first. “There’s a French bakery just up the street. Let’s grab a cup of coffee.”

Her head whipped in his direction. “How do you know about Le Delice Patisserie?”

Did he live in Charlotte, and she was just now finding that out?

Fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

Ha.

Yes, it would.

Danny’s brows lifted. “I always scope out the food scene wherever I go. Food is another form of adventure. Gotta try new things.”

Funny. She’d lived here for years, and the only time she tried new things was when Talia forced her to. “I really don’t have time, maybe—”

“Bella.” Danny’s expression sobered. “We need to talk.”

If he wanted to talk about their past, then no, they didn’t.

“Please?”