Page 15 of The Immortal’s Salvation

What the hell was a coffee cordial?

“Please,” Charlotte tugged on Toni’s hand. “You have to give it back.”

As Toni and her companion jumped down from the cart, he realized what was happening. Alessandra had told him once before about her friends’ Sunday Funday routine. Whenever one of her friends needed a special pick-me-up, they’d gather together for a bout of day drinking and ridiculous behavior.

It seemed to be working.

Toni looked less like a woman scorned than one who was thoroughly enjoying herself. Red hair that looked as if it had been kissed by a fire god, a smile so broad even he couldn’t help mirroring it . . . as always, Toni was the center of the ladies’ joviality.

It appeared Charlotte’s good sense won the day as the women smuggled the cart back into the hotel. And that’s when she saw him. Alessandra had known he was here all along, of course, but she’d clearly held her tongue. Until now. Toni’s laughing eyes met his gaze and held it. He thought of holding her in his arms, a woman already committed to another, something between them that was no longer an obstacle. She was thinking the same. He could tell from her expression, and while it may terrify her so soon out of a bad relationship, the possibilities flooded him with an awareness of Toni O’Neill unlike any he’d ever had before.

Alessandra waved for him to join them, and against his better judgment, he started to close the distance between them, each step heavier than the last.

Divested of the luggage cart, which they clearly had not been permitted to use, judging by the doorman’s sour expression, the women began walking toward him. All of them talked and laughed at once, their jovial mood infectious, but his attention was only on her.

Toni grabbed Alessandra’s shoulder, using it as a support so she could remove her shoes. Wedges, to be exact. He’d absorbed every detail already. Ripped jean shorts, a loose white top covered by a gray and white striped short-sleeved sweater, perfectly appropriate for summer. Bright auburn hair everywhere, wild in its refusal to be tamed.

Not unlike the lady herself.

“We’re heading to The Witch’s Brew,” Charlotte said, interrupting their staring contest. “You coming?”

Alessandra looked between them, waiting for his answer, but he did not break eye contact with Toni. He tried to tell her everything in that moment. Yes, he hated her ex-boyfriend. He hated that she’d allowed herself to be treated poorly by him. He may have even hated her a bit for it. But mostly, he hated that she hadn’t been with him instead.

No longer laughing, Toni took off her second shoe, standing barefoot in the street. Her toenails, he noticed, were painted blue.

“Remind me never to wear these again,” she said to Alessandra. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

Alessandra looked at him, and he nodded in response to the silent question. He would take her there . . . when they were finished talking.

A talk that was long overdue.

* * *

Goddammit,the man was hot.

Running clothes. He typically wore jeans and a T-shirt, keeping it casual, especially compared to Kenton’s refined wardrobe. But Lawrence would look good in a potato sack. Kind of a cross between what a cowboy should look like, in her mind at least, and a guy who hailed from the Scottish Highlands.

Or Lowlands, as Alessandra said, but all of the romance books she’d read were about Highlanders, so she preferred to think otherwise.