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“When the hell have you had time to have conversations with Dean Kendrick about art? He’s a hockey player in the NHL, for Christ sake. Since when does he have time for someone like you?” Okay was he crazy? Or just losing it? Had he missed something?
Abby’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. And then she took a step forward and thumped him in the chest. She thumped him hard enough to move him back an inch or so, and there was a collective gasp from the crowd that surrounded them.
So much for not making a scene.
“I can’t believe you just said that. What do you mean someone like me? You don’t think I’m good enough for Dean Kendrick?” Abby blew out a loud breath, tugging a strand of hair from her face.
“I heard her, you know.” Abby bit out. “I’m sure everyone in this place heard her. Sonya Devonish. Is she right? Am I just a bartender that you’re fucking?”
Shocked, Tucker stared down at a woman who had gone way beyond pissed. Hell, they were so far into unknown territory right now that he had no idea how to get them back. How had his evening nosedived into the toilet in just under ten minutes?
“Abby.”
“Don’t Abby me. This whole thing was a mistake. It’s all a mistake.”
Tucker didn’t give a flying fuck that they were in the middle of one of the Simon Foundation’s biggest fundraisers. He didn’t care that all around them, people pretended to have conversations while trying not to look as if they were listening in on him and Abby.
He didn’t give a shit about any of that, because all of a sudden he was filled with something that made his chest tight. Something that heated his blood and pressed onto his heart.
It was big and it was green and it was ugly.
He was jealous as hell, and it was time that he faced the fact that Abby Matthews was in his life. That she’d somehow bled into parts of him that he thought were protected. Parts of him that he thought were dead.
He didn’t have time to analyze or think about the facts. He needed to get her alone.
“Come with me.”
“What? No way. I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know why I came to this thing.”
But he didn’t give her the option. He scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder—a fucking caveman move if ever there was one—and headed toward the lobby.
He ignored all the gasps, the whispers and pointed fingers. He ignored the look of holy-fucking-shit on his brother Jack’s face. It was hard, but he ignored the squirming woman on his shoulder and the screech when he pressed his hand into her ass to keep her steady.
He even ignored her attempts to bite him.
He ignored all of it and walked out of the Terrace Room and headed toward the elevator. Once the doors closed behind him, he slowly let her down, his eyes on the frantic pulse at her neck.
Abby opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head and something in his eyes got to her, because nothing came out. He moved forward until he crowded her into the wall, until he could practically hear her heart banging against her chest. Until he could smell the shampoo in her hair and the musk on her skin.
He placed both of his hands on either side of her and before she could say a word, he silenced her with his mouth.
Tucker Simon kissed Abby Mathews long and he kissed her hard. He kissed her as if she was the air he breathed or the life in his veins. He inhaled her. He devoured her. And when he finally dragged his mouth away, both of them were panting.
For a few seconds, the only noise he heard was the roaring of his blood as it pounded in his ears. He didn’t hear the bell ring or the elevator doors slide open. He didn’t even hear the slap of her hand across his skin, but the burn of her palm on his cheek was enough to snap him out of whatever the hell it was that had taken him over.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
And then she was gone, sliding past him and the startled couple waiting to get into the elevator.
The look in Abby’s eyes tore at him and suddenly the green-eyed monster was nothing compared to what gripped him now. Because what gripped him now was fear. Fear that he’d blown it. Fear that, once again, he was losing something.
Something that he thought maybe he’d grown to love.
Chapter Twenty
Abby tore out of The Plaza Hotel and jumped into the first taxi that she saw. She was so angry and confused and angry that she could barely give the taxi driver her address. Light bulbs flashed in her face as paparazzi shouted at her for a smile. A wave. A name!
A smile? A goddamn smile?
