frowned. That was exactly the case, wasn’t it? If Cilla Michaels hadn’t met him at the airport and pressured him into accepting her escort, he might very well be lying on the sidewalk outside just as Laurel and Hardy had been doing when the police arrived. In fact, he might have a bullet hole in him.
His frown deepened. That scenario didn’t jibe with the note that had been delivered to him. If someone wanted to gun him down on the street, why warn him about it first? And why bother counting down the nights until Christmas? Unless the two incidents weren’t connected.
That was something he wanted to talk to her about. Priscilla would have a theory. He was sure of it.
And then there was Cilla.
She strode away from his desk and put her hand on her hip again. The red coat was shoved back, giving him a good view of those remarkable legs. And he remembered exactly how it had felt when they’d been wrapped around him.
It could happen again. Something primal, something that went beyond desire, sparked to life inside of him. In seconds, he could move to the door, lock it and take her against it just as he had in that hotel room in Denver. Seconds and he could have his mouth on hers. God, he wanted that. He wanted to taste her again—that sweet, tart flavor that grew more complex each time he feasted on it. He wanted to touch her again, to push the hem of that dress up those long, silky legs. Seconds. It would take only seconds to sheath himself and push aside whatever lacy barrier was left between them. Then he would fill her. She would surround him.
The image in his mind triggered sensations so vivid that he could almost feel her closing around him as he thrust into her. Seconds, he thought again. Seconds and he could turn the fantasy in his mind into reality. The temptation to do just that was so powerful, Jonah had to grip the arms of the chair tight.
This was why he’d stayed away for nearly a month, he reminded himself. And this was why he should keep his distance now.
“No, we haven’t talked about it yet, but I’m sure he’ll agree that private security is the way to go,” Cilla said. When she shot him a questioning look, Jonah merely returned a bland one.
He wasn’t a fool. Until he could figure out what was going on, he was going to take precautions. A bodyguard wouldn’t be a bad idea.
“I can free up David Santos and Mark Gibbons,” Cilla said. “They’re very good, and I can still handle our other clients.”
Jonah refocused his attention on what she was saying.
She slid him a sideways glance. “Great. I’ll let him know.”
Let him know? Annoyance sizzled through him. Mostly at himself. All evening, he’d let her call the shots. She’d convinced him to let her follow him to Pleasures, then she’d maneuvered him into that little macho man/poor helpless female scenario when the two thugs had approached. And she’d been the one who’d reported everything to Gabe. Now if he’d heard right, she intended to step back and assign two other men to guard him.
That wasn’t her decision to make. He was about to stretch out his hand and demand to talk to Gabe when she closed her cell and faced him across the desk.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“Indeed we do.” Jonah kept his gaze on Cilla for one long moment before he rose and said, “Before you tell me what you and Gabe have decided, let me introduce you to Pleasures.”
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