And wear the guns, I added silently to myself now. Bodyguards weren’t new to me. They were a staple among the rich, paranoid men who’d supported my earlier life. Most security had been just for show, though, while the man behind me had definitely seen action. I snuck a peek back over my shoulder at him. He was watching me, as I’d figured he would be, but he glared, harsh and menacing. As though he’d decided I was an enemy. I was – but could he know?
My chest tightened at the panicked thought that I might be walking into some sort of trap. The man I’d just left could shoot me in the back several times before I even registered the first shot.
Even if it wasn’t too late, even if I was walking into a trap, I was determined to see this through. I hugged my arms around myself and turned my focus back toward the patio. Not that the man I was about to meet was any less frightening. In fact, he was definitively more so. Why that thought sent butterflies scattering in my stomach, I had no idea.
Nerves. Just nerves.
The backside of the restaurant was a wall of windows and I could see as I approached that the outdoor dining space was corralled by another wall of glass. Beyond, the last hints of the sun tinted the sky above the mountains and the city cradled in the valley below was lit for the night. A fire blazed in a large pit, keeping the dark at bay and pinning my attention to its vibrant reflection in the glass behind it. I was out the doors and halfway to the burning beacon before I noticed Reeve standing to the side, looking out over the view.
My steps stilled while I took him in. I was exponentially grateful that he hadn’t noticed me so that I could catch my breath privately. Because all air had left my lungs at the sight of him. He stood at an angle, and the profile view enunciated the strength of his jaw and the sharpness of his bones. His hands were buried in his pants pockets causing his jacket to hug the sculpted shape of his swimmer’s ass. Even like that – his features half-hidden, his body buried underneath the pale gray suit he wore – he was captivating.
I studied him. Light from the fire danced shadows across his cheek, the effect haunting. Not haunting – haunted. My thoughts started to spin. Did Amber cling to him like she clung to me?
Without turning, he spoke, surprising me. “Are you going to join me or do you prefer skulking in the background?”
A smile pressed at the line of my mouth. Of course he’d know I was there. Ignoring the lingering tickle of stage fright, I started toward him. Showtime.
“I’m joining you,” I said with the confident voice of the character I was playing. “I just got distracted with the view.”
He shifted in my direction, and I was sure to keep my focus on him so that he’d know that he was the view I’d been talking about. Then our eyes caught. My breath hitched as a shock of electricity jolted down my spine. The slight lift of his brows told me he felt it too and that knowledge sent a flood of warmth rushing through me. It had been such a long time since I’d been so entirely attracted to a man. So long that I’d forgotten what it felt like, how consuming it could be. How confusing. How comforting.
It perplexed me. I was an actress and surrounded by beautiful faces and perfectly toned bodies, yet not a one of them had the effect that Reeve Sallis had on me. There was irony in it, I was sure. A sick play from karma.
Or maybe it was all in my head. Maybe it was Amber in my head – my interest in the man simply transference of what she’d felt for him. Perhaps her emotions had stained mine the way a restless spirit stained the cherished places it had left behind. Despite its basis in the paranormal – despite how crazy it might make me – that was the most comfortable explanation I could come up with, and I went with it.
But then he said my name. And the sound of it – “Emily,” rough and sinful on his tongue – branded me. I was Emily Wayborn, formerly Emily Barnes, and no one else. There was no space for Amber in the syllables he uttered.
He appraised me, his look smoldering. “You look fantastic.”
My heartbeat ticked up a notch at the compliment, but I still recognized his odd inflection. “You sound surprised.”
A smile slid across his lips as he closed the distance between us. “I didn’t think you could look more attractive without wearing less. I was wrong.” His tone said that he’d given this thought. That he’d thought about me wearing… less.
Goose bumps perked up on my skin while contradicting heat ignited in my belly. “I’m flattered.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Excuse me?”
He put a firm hand on my elbow and leaned in toward my ear. “Let’s not start out with lies between us, Emily.”
My muscles went rigid and my pulse sped up for a different reason than it had a moment before. “I don’t know what you —”
He cut me off. “You know you’re attractive. Own it.”
I smiled, the knot under my shoulder relaxing. “Beauty is subjective, Reeve. Yes, I’m aware that many people find my looks appealing. I work hard to make sure they do. It doesn’t mean that you will. I’m honestly flattered to hear that you do.”
He pulled away, but his grip remained. “I do. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
It was a moment of victory that felt much more like relief. All of this, my whole charade, depended on Reeve’s attraction to me. Though I’d felt confident after our morning exchange, the hours in between had given me time to doubt.
A waiter appeared seemingly out of nowhere with a wine service cart. There were two glasses already filled with a light liquid. Reeve acknowledged his servant with only a dismissive nod, and the waiter retreated immediately. Reeve released my arm and picked up a glass. “I thought a Meursault Chardonnay would be appropriate.” He held it out for me.