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Lila wondered how long it would take for the mortification to fade, or if her face would feel this tight and overheated forever. She’d reached for her suitcase, only to have Travis pluck it from her as if it weighed nothing.
Why did he have to be so strong and competent? He’d thoroughly charmed Gram, a feat only managed by her grandfather until tonight.
She could hardly storm off or send him on his way now. The best option was to pretend their meeting and introductions had been planned, she decided, moving toward the elevator. They were still in public view and she’d made enough of a scene by throwing herself at his mouth earlier. The memory made her pulse skip and a fresh wave of heat flooded her face. “For the record, my favorite place in the world is the bakery.”
“So where are we going to dinner?”
“The fish camp.” She waited for the groan or some kind of protest. Fish had been a daily staple on the yacht.
“Do we have to catch it or cook it ourselves?”
“No.”
His lips twitched. “Then count me in.” He slipped his hand into hers while they waited for the elevator. To keep up appearances, she was sure.
She tried not to like it. When that failed, she tried to ignore the way his hand enveloped hers. He made her feel safe, even when she knew he was working an agenda she couldn’t see clearly.
“What are youreallydoing here?” she whispered. “Did the thief take the bait?”
He gave her a gentle tug and she found herself right up against his hard body once more. The contact shouldn’t thrill her, but it did. From her head to her toes awareness simmered, just under her skin, making her want things that were impossible. Dangerous. Travis was a man built for action as part of his chosen career and the innate assurance that radiated from him was an intense, dizzying turn on. Especially in close quarters.
“Bucking for another kiss, sweetheart? Or just intel for your partners?” Of course. He might as well have doused her with a bucket of cold water. He still saw her as a suspect. She was frustrated and appalled that he could kiss her senseless and believe the worst of her at the same time. That was a level of performance she hadn’t expected.
The elevator arrived with a chime, a timely reminder that they weren’t alone.Yet. She needed to remember this was all fake for him. This ruse was only a means to an end.
Shewas likely a means to an end.
Having worked in close quarters with Travis for months, she understood his focus and commitment. If he’d been tasked with finding the thief, he’d do it. She couldn’t call it tunnel vision, because as a personal protector, she knew he was hyper-aware of his surroundings, constantly assessing and dismissing any number of factors.
He carried her luggage in one hand and kept the other wrapped snugly around hers all the way to her room, releasing her only long enough to get inside. He set down the luggage and pulled a gun from a holster at his ankle. The shock kept her silent while he searched the suite, turning on lights as he went.
Simmering with more annoyance than attraction now, she waited by the door. “Satisfied?” she demanded when he returned to the main room.
Heat flared in his gaze. “Not even close.”
She had no idea what to do with that. They needed to clear up any doubts he had so she could send him on his way. She refused to perpetuate the lie they’d fed to Gram. “Is the room clear, Mr. Bodyguard?”
“Yes.” Frowning, he tucked his gun away.
She rolled her suitcase into the bedroom and then pulled the door shut before turning to face him. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. The personal interest faded and his hard, professional expression was in place. “We need to talk about that stunt downstairs.”
His mouth firmed and then he moved back toward the hallway. She started to follow, but stopped when she heard the deadbolt at the door engage with a click and thunk.
“Who was the woman on the ferry?” he asked, walking back into the room.
“Do you still think I’m tied to those thefts?”
Her question collided with his and she did a double take. “What woman?”
“You spoke with her on the ferry,” he clarified. “Later, at the dock, she returned your luggage. You left it behind when you saw your grandmother.”
The woman’s sly smile drifted into her memory, but his words pissed her off. “You were following me? All day?”
“Yes.” He folded his arms, his biceps testing the fabric of his shirt. “No. Not all day. I tracked you down after the decoy bag was dumped.”
Feeling defensive, she didn’t dare show it. She toed off her shoes and pulled the tie from her hair, rubbing the tension from her scalp. For a second she thought she saw that heat come back into his eyes. Her body’s immediate response was annoying—she didn’t want to like how he looked at her.
“I didn’t touch that bag. Not after you put it back.”
