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It might be a nice gesture, but she doubted it. “Why were you at FMV? Stalking me through them?”
He shook his head. “Morgan called me.”
“Why?”
“Let me drive you home, and I’ll tell you.”
“You’re getting creepier by the minute.”
He ran a hand over his face. “That’s because I’m doing this all backward.” He nodded toward the bar. “Join me for a drink? You won’t be trapped in a car with me or be required to give me your address. I can apologize and tell you what I learned from Morgan today.”
She wanted to say no. She wanted to walk coolly out the door, serene as sunshine. She could leave and never see him again. But she also wanted to know why he’d been at FMV today, and her ego, which had been greatly battered in the last twenty minutes, could use the boost of an apology.
But really, it was the voice of Mason Gardner—who must’ve followed her down to the lobby—that pushed her to take a step toward Chris. “We’re watching you, Miss Edwards.” His voice dropped, giving it a hostile edge. “You do anything more to smear the Historie brand, and we’ll expose you for the thief you are.”
She stiffened, locking her core as she faced Chris. Her face flushed red. Mortification or anger, she’d never be certain. All she knew was she couldn’t turn to face Mason. Like any childish boogeyman, if she ignored him, he would disappear.
She took another step toward the SEAL who’d saved her in Aqaba. She placed her hand on his chest, rose on her good foot, and brushed her lips over his. “Sweetheart, thanks so much for waiting for me. Let’s have that drink you promised.”
Chris stroked her cheek, then tugged her closer and planted a deeper kiss on her mouth. Either he was an opportunist or he’d seen something on the other man’s face that spurred the action. Based on previous statements both public and private, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn the retail heir was bothered both by public displays of affection and mixed-race couples.
She kissed Chris back.
Dammit. The kiss made her want to find a reason to forgive him.
He raised his head and smiled, and her heart did a ridiculous flutter. Clearly the organ needed a tune-up, because it was not behaving properly.
Chris turned and led her into the bar. She followed without looking back. With the exception of a man seated at the bar with his back to the lobby, the establishment was empty, giving them their choice of seating. Diana chose a low couch under the lobby window, giving her room to prop up her leg and a view into the hotel if she twisted to the side just a bit.
After they ordered their drinks and were alone, she huffed out a breath and whispered, “Thank you for playing along.”
“Sweetheart, if you’re talking about the kiss, I wasn’t playing.”
She shrugged. “I was.”
He snorted. “Liar.”
She’d take offense at the remark, but she was, in fact, lying.
Diana spotted Ian walking through the lobby. His gaze met hers through the window. He paused for a long moment before he turned and entered the bar.
“Shit,” she muttered. She didn’t think kissing Chris would act as a ward against this demon.
“Who is that?” Chris asked.
Ian was at their table before she could answer. He stood with his back to the bar as he offered a hand to Chris and introduced himself, and they did that thing where manly men assessed each other. She’d bet anything Chris identified the spy as former military and Ian identified Chris as active duty right away.
It was a secret body language in which she only understood basic nouns.
Ian turned to her. “I wanted to apologize for the way that ended, Dr. Edwards.”
She shrugged. “It was to be expected.” She studied him for a minute and said, “Do you like working for Dennis Gardner?”
He gave her a half smile. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“Ah, but I never really worked for him. My allegiance was to the university and Fahd. Gardner was just a means to an end.”
“I think Gardner could say the same about you.” He set his business card on the table. “The problem is, we need to figure out what his end is, because it’s not to cut a deal to run tourist digs in Jordan. Call me if you want to talk.”
