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She doesn’t seem icked by her statement.
She’s more flustered than turned off.
After screwing the end of a lip gloss container into its lid, Jenni spins to face me. “Are you sure he hasn’t hinted at wanting more?”
“Who? Isaac?” I couldn’t sound more shocked if I tried. I’ve performed at Isaac’s clubs a handful of times while endeavoring to get my stage name out there, but he’s never presented as anything more than friendly. He is also head over heels obsessed with his wife, who gains as many admirers as him when they enter a room.
“Not Isaac.” An expression I can’t quite work out crosses her face. “Knox.” She props her hip onto the edge of the vanity mirror she’s spent the last hour hogging while Emily and I rummaged through her latest collection of dresses—we get first dibs on her creations before the leftovers are mass marketed for well-known clothing chains—then asks, “His possessiveness screams more ownership than concern for your safety.”
I sling my head to Emily when she joins our conversation. “I might have agreed with you if I hadn’t overheard his conversation on his way out.” She pops a loaded spoon of chocolate ice cream into her mouth before talking around the calories she’s gobbling down like she isn’t concerned about weight gain. I understand why. Even four months pregnant, she is still waif thin. “He was signing up a new security detail to the label.” My mouth gapes more when she announces, “He starts tomorrow.”
Upon noticing my shocked expression, Jenni asks, “Did you not know about this?”
“No.” When I think back on the many conversations I’ve had with Knox over the past month, I renege on my lie. “He did mention something about increased security for the upcoming press junket, but I thought he meant at the venues we were attending, not for me personally.” I look up at Jenni. “No offense, but I’m not sure how I will handle having a shadow twenty-four-seven.”
“It can be a little annoying.” Jenni locks eyes with Hawke, her long-term live-in bodyguard, who’s standing outside the presidential suite's primary room, looking bored. “Especially if they don’t know boundaries.” Hawke shrugs, unfazed by her gripe. “But you eventually get used to it.” Her smile is teasing. “I sometimes forget he’s in the room with us until he whines about needing soap to wash the filth from his eyes.”
Hawke tries to hide his laughter, but the jutted movements of his chest give him away.
“Then jealousy comes into play.” Hawke’s chest stills when Jenni leans in and whispers, “My sex life has never been so good.”
Her statement is lost on me until she nudges her head to Hawke standing frozen in the hallway. He is easily six foot three. His shoulders are wider than the doorframe, and although his haircut hasn’t strayed from the military-inspired crewcut most recruits don, his face could make any woman’s panties combust. Having a guy like Hawke following a man’s wife around all day would make any man jealous, so Nick's extra compensation in the bedroom isn't surprising. Hawke is sexy as hell… but also taken.
Even Marcus is moving on from the “single” title we shared when Rise Up’s claim to fame commenced. I’m the only one desperate and dateless, and the reminder has me throwing caution to the wind.
“One drink.” I hold my finger in the air to amplify my statement. “One.”
Silently squealing, Jenni curls her arm around my shoulders and guides me out. “Then I guess we’re in luck that it’s Friday.”
“Punch bowl margarita Fridays at Mavericks!” Emily shouts, following us out like her steps don’t already characterize the duck waddle most pregnant ladies get.
3
LAKEN
Awolf whistle sounds from my lips when Knox pulls the SUV under the awning of a fancy hotel in the middle of Ravenshoe. I’ve spent the last hour of our trip with my mouth unhinged and my eyes bugged. Ravenshoe grew at a mammoth rate before I left one of its distant cousins for a prolonged stint of absence, but this is beyond anything I could have comprehended. The downtown district is ginormous, and almost every street has glass-and-steel structures stretching past the skyline.
“If you think this is impressive, wait until you see the presidential suite.” River hugs me like I’m not following him inside before he uses the SUV’s wide floorspace to slip out of the now-stationary vehicle before me.
After watching how he tips the valet with a fist bump and a man hug, I join him and Knox in front of the elaborate hotel foyer steps. “I thought we were heading to your place?”
Not looking up from his phone, Knox replies, “This hotel is closer to the airport.” When my brows furrow in confusion, he bumps me with his shoulder. “I’ll explain everything in the morning.” He stores away his phone before replacing it with his wallet. “Until then, how about we get you settled in, showered, and dressed in jeans that don’t look like you painted them on?”
Knox comes from old money, so the generosity of his tip to the valet shouldn’t shock me. But it does. He’s always believed you don’t get rich by giving it away, so a hundred-dollar tip for opening the door of the hotel-owned SUV is a little extravagant.
When we enter the elevator that is so spacious, even with us riding with a dozen guests, it doesn’t feel cramped, Knox says, “I had planned for you to stay with us in the presidential suite, but I figured you’d prefer your own room.” He flashes me a grin before speaking loud enough for the elegantly dressed lady beside me to move away. “After being locked up for almost a decade, the only people you should be sharing a mattress with are A-class hookers.”
The disgruntled patron jabs her finger into the elevator open button even with the panel showing she is floors from her desired exit point.
Knox’s chuckles fill my ears as she leaves the elevator car in a huff. “What?” he asks when I glare at him. “Her perfume reeked like a low-end hooker, so I thought I’d give her an in with a high-class client.”
“She was close to sixty,” I scoff out.
“More like eighty,” River butts in, his expression humored.
“And?” Knox asks, still laughing, his eyes bouncing between us. “This isn’t high school anymore. You’ve got to do more than let your little bro tag along to pick up the ladies.” I’m more annoyed by his statement than River is. He looks pleased until Knox curls his arm around his neck and noogies his head for the second time tonight. “This chick magnet has become a hog. You must have forgotten to teach him how to share.”
“Did not.” River pushes him off with more oomph than needed before straightening his suit jacket. Once he has himself right, he locks his eyes with the stranger not endeavoring to hide his snooping, and says, “It’s the extra chromosome. The chicks dig it. I’d offer you one, but then I wouldn’t be more special than the average Joe, and no one wants that.”
