bad space pirate as a cross between Harrison Ford and Channing Tatum. How insulting, then, when he morphed in her mind to bear a striking resemblance to Liam.
Couldn’t her books even be off-limits?
With a resigned sigh—and a willingness to eat a portion of crow along with a fresh sandwich from the serving bar—she glanced up into Liam’s warm gaze.
“Problem?”
“Of course not. I just decided I was hungry after all. I’ll just go up and get something.”
“Then it’s a good thing I got you a sandwich and a banana.” He pulled a plate from behind his back, the promised sandwich filled to the brim with fresh-cut turkey, what appeared to be slices of pear and a wedge of soft cheese.
She took the proffered sandwich and fought the petty urge to go up and get something different. Good heavens, what was wrong with her? Her mother might have spent most of Isabella’s childhood thoroughly disengaged but even she’d managed to raise a child who was well-mannered and gracious.
Not to mention thankful when someone did something nice.
After she swallowed a bite, she set down her plate and turned to face Liam. “Thank you. The sandwich is delicious.”
“They know how to send a traveler off in style here.”
“Yes, they do.” She used his comment as an excuse to look around the lounge and away from the intense scrutiny of his gaze but his voice pulled her back to the here and now.
“We should get into JFK a little before two. My sister Kensington and her fiancé, Jack, are picking us up themselves.”
“Okay.” While the extra attention still felt unnecessary and overblown, Liam’s caution overrode any protests she might have.
“I’d like you to stay at the family house tonight.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I think it is. I’d also like you to give us keys to your apartment. Jack and I can go over and check things out tomorrow. He’s in security as well. Between the two of us, we know what to look for and how to suss out any threats.”
“I’ll go with you, of course.”
“I’d prefer you stayed behind.”
Whether it was lingering frustration over the long-legged Amazon and her smooth moves or the sheer insult of being left behind while someone investigated her home, she didn’t know.
She was fast hitting a point where she didn’t care, either.
“It’s my home. I appreciate your guidance but I believe, as your client, I still have final say. I’m going with you.”
“Isabella—”
“No. I’m not leaving you to walk through my apartment and look through my things while I sit and do nothing.”
“Someone’s proven themselves a threat to you on several occasions and, by all accounts, with increasing severity. You’re better off staying where we can control the situation.”
“I’m not negotiating this with you. I need to get inside my apartment and see if anyone was there. Besides, I won’t be scared away from my own home.”
“And I’d like you to be reasonable and let me do my job.”
She pushed her plate aside and leaned over the small table, her gaze direct. “No, Liam, I won’t be reasonable. Or pliable. Or pitiful. I may not be some athletic Amazon like Blondie over there,” she tossed her head in the direction of the woman from the serving counter, “but I know my own mind and I know this. You’re not going into my home without me.”
“Blondie?”
“Excuse me for being vague. I was referring to the statuesque blonde who almost had her tongue down your ear.”
“I believe her name’s Stella.”
“Of course it is.”
“She’s an old college acquaintance of my sister’s who thought she recognized me and came over to say hello.”
“How sweet.” Isabella flung a hand, nearly knocking over her plate in the process. “Why don’t you go get reacquainted?”
“Since she’s leaving on a tropical vacation with her boyfriend, I’m not sure either would appreciate the intrusion.”
Isabella looked over to where the blonde had sat down and had the distinct mortification of watching the woman run her hands over the rather large and imposing chest of a man she clearly had feelings for.
Damn it all to hell and back.
A few other choice expletives floated through her mind in rapid succession at, once again, being caught out of her depth. “How lovely for her.”
“Quite.”
She took a sip of the soft drink he’d brought her and willed the mortification to fade as quickly as possible. The cold slide of sugar coated her parched throat and while it couldn’t quite beat the heat of embarrassment flushing up her neck, it did make her feel a bit better.
“I don’t think you’re pitiful, Isabella.”
“Thank you.”
“And for the record?” A small smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, those blue irises twinkling. “I sure as hell don’t think you’re pliable, either.”
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