CHAPTER 5
Thud.
Cecily jerked as the hotel room door slammed behind her. Shane had dismissed the porter and carried her suitcase, a duffel bag, and his messenger bag without interference. Apparently, he didn’t want anyone poking around in his trunk, borrowing his dead-body blanket, or whatever. Now he was busy stowing the stuff in the entry closet; she was busy staring at the single king-size bed in the adjacent room.
“There was only one room left?” Cecily asked. It is not unreasonable for me to be irritated. It would not even be unreasonable for me to stamp my foot. This is the dictionary definition of a stampable event. “In this entire five-star hotel? Only one available room and it comes with a single king-size bed?”
“Yup,” Shane said, now by the windows, peering out and then arranging the curtains with some kind of OCD-gripped focus. Now he was at the phone, picking the thing up, checking it out. He pulled out his key chain and used one of those multitools to unscrew the bottom of the phone and poke around its innards. He glanced behind the artwork. And then he stared into the minibar.
“Are you looking for poison?” Cecily asked.
“If that’s how you feel about bourbon,” he said.
“Are you and Dex spies?” Cecily asked, actually finding herself wanting to giggle. No reaction from the big man over there, still sorting through minibar bottles. She was getting loopy. In part from exhaustion, in part from trying to think of her brother being organized enough to be a spy. Whoever these men were, whatever they were involved in, it was not entirely kosher. “I’m still waiting for a bigger explanation about what you guys do. You, Dex, wherever it comes from, if my life is in danger by association, I have a right to know about it.”
Shane wheeled around, a bottle of booze in one hand, and what looked like genuine surprise on his face with a side order of pissed off. “You think I’d put you in danger?”
Oh, god, I think that either hurt his feelings or just made him go quietly insane. Both? “Um, well, I just can’t help but notice that you’re acting a little paranoid. Normal people don’t act like you’re acting.”
“Normal people?”
“Yeah, you know. Like physical therapists and, uh, ice cream vendors or whoever. Any woman with half a brain would seriously wonder about you and my brother and this Hudson Kings organization you joined. Dex said you worked together, but I don’t really understand who you work for and what you do.”
“Physical therapists and ice cream vendors.” He let the words hang there. Awkward. Ridiculous. Finally, he said, “It’s not paranoia; it’s called taking care. I’m taking care of something precious for Dex. Like I said, that’s what I do.”
“Oh. So this is what you’d do for any . . . package. This level of . . . care.”
Shane’s face stayed blank. After a moment, he said roughly, “Get in the shower. I’ll order up some room service.”
“What?” Cecily asked.
“You heard me. You’re going to get in the shower, and then we eat.” He’d already turned away, his hand first up and around the molding on the front door and then examining the lock. “After you eat, you’re going to—” Suddenly, he broke off in the middle of that thought, his back still toward her, his hands stilled.
Cecily waited for him to finish telling her exactly what he wanted her to do and the precise order in which he wanted her to do it. Her jaw clamped, but she wasn’t going to rise to the bait and jump all over him, even if it made her want to scream. The crazy would all be over soon. They were halfway to New York, and she’d never see him again. The crazy would all be over soon.
Except this was now. And now here Shane was, frozen in the middle of a sentence, slowly turning back around. This time when he looked at her, it was like he was really seeing her. In fact, he stared at her. Cecily realized she was holding her breath and exhaled slowly, her heart beating faster and faster under his steely gaze. “What?” she managed.
“I was, uh . . .” He folded his arms across his chest, looked down at his boots planted in a V, went completely silent for a good five seconds, and then looked up and asked, “Do you want to shower, eat, or sleep first?”
It was obvious it took some effort for the words to come out like that, all question marky and flexible sounding. Cecily stared at him in disbelief. She bit her lip, managing to keep from laughing, but couldn’t keep from smiling. Shane shook his head, but he’d dropped his arms and was suddenly grinning too, one arm grabbing the back of his neck.
Shaking his head and grinning. The biggest smile on his face since they’d started this trip. Hot. Badass. And now sweet. “All three sound like heaven,” Cecily said finally.
“If you wanna pick something out to eat from the menu, I’ll order it while you shower and then it’ll be here by the time you’re ready,” he said quietly.
“That sounds great, Shane,” Cecily said. She meant to say more, wanted to say more—acknowledge that he’d made an effort to meet her halfway—but she didn’t want to break the spell.
No matter. He’d tucked that smile away and was already turning away again when he said, “Sure.”
Steam clouded the bathroom as water poured down Cecily’s face and body. She took a deep breath, almost giddy as she soaped up, inhaling the citrusy scent with a big, dumb grin on her face. It had been too long since she’d felt safe enough to close her eyes and just enjoy a hot shower.
She couldn’t wait to get to New York and see Dex, but Shane was nothing if not dedicated in his commitment to keep her safe, so for the first time in forever, she felt free. Free to take the world’s longest shower and slop on bath wash that smelled like pure joy hanging from an orange tree in sunny Florida. Free to jump up and down on a killer mattress. Free to change into clothes she liked, and to dial down the makeup, regardless of any man’s preference. Free to just be herself, without a care in the world, without having to worry that a time bomb on the other side of her door was just waiting to go off.
Shampooing her hair with an enormous amount of suds, Cecily tried to decide if letting down her guard was a mistake.
James’s agenda had been to control her and break her down. Conversely, while they didn’t come any bossier than Shane, he’d made it clear that his agenda was to get her to New York in one piece. This suggested Shane thought delivering her to Dex in multiple pieces was in the realm of possibility, which was a little disconcerting, but then the whole situation was disconcerting.
Cecily getting caught up with a man like James was disconcerting.
Dex getting caught up with a man like Shane was disconcerting.
And judging by his behavior, Shane getting caught up with a girl like herself was also disconcerting, although outside of getting into the James mess, Cecily imagined she came off about as normal as you could be. Like a physical therapist or an ice cream vendor, she thought with a smile. Well, like a graphic designer. I’m just going to move to New York and become a graphic designer and go down the path I meant to go down in the first place.
Cecily rinsed all the soap off and stood under the hot spray, staring at the wall of steam as warning sirens went off in her head. The idea of living in New York with her brother—making a living doing what she loved, an idea that had kept her company so many nights over the last month, giving her comfort when she felt all alone—was all she could think about. And now, all of a sudden, not two days on her way to exactly what she wanted, something in her didn’t want this road trip to end.
Her eyes worked through the steam and settled on the doorknob, behind which was the most enigmatic man she’d ever met. Six foot and—oh, my god—counting, with a gorgeous car to go with a gorgeous bod and a look in his eyes that could both chill and probably kill. He had a mysterious trunk he wouldn’t let her near, a knife in his boot, he kept a six-pack of cell phones ready to go, and he was partial to cheap cheeseburgers and luxury lodging. That was both too much and too little to know about a man, and she hadn’t locked the bathroom door. Did I do that on purpose? Why do I feel so safe? Is this some bizarre form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? Maybe it’s Post-Traumatic Shane Disorder. She giggled, and then checked herself. For the love of god, Cecily, what James did to you is not funny, and just because you’ve got a personal bodyguard right now does not mean James can’t find you again if he wants to make your life miserable.
That was a sobering thought, strong enough to make her feel a chill even in hot water. She’d sworn when she got away from James that she’d be smart enough to walk away from the dark the next time she saw it, and there was Shane checking the curtains. The phone. The pictures. The locks. The doorframe. Shane was no pizza delivery guy, no ice cream vendor, that was for sure. What are you going to ask him over dinner: “So, how dark is it, Shane?”
Cecily watched bubbles swirl into the drain but still made no move to turn off the water. What does it mean if I don’t want to ask because I might not like the answer? What does it mean if I don’t want to know the answer because I don’t want to stop being around him and I don’t want to have to walk away? What does it mean that I don’t want to walk away because I might miss catching that tiny hint of a smile, nearly impossible to bring to life, the one that makes my heart beat faster when I finally get it?
Cecily dripped more of the satsuma body wash into her palm, closed her eyes, let the water pound down all around her, and imagined that her hands were his hands. Shane’s big hands, running perfumed soap over her shoulders, fingers grazing the edges of her back, smoothing over her naked breasts, and swirling around her nipples.
Her breath was coming more quickly now. She leaned against the back of the shower, just slowly moving her hands over her body, wondering if Shane was wild or liked to take his time, or—
A sharp rap sounded outside the door; Cecily’s eyes flew open, terrified he’d caught her.
She stared at the doorknob, waiting for it to turn. He’s not coming in here; I trust him not to touch me.
Which is such a total bummer.
She heard low voices and realized he was talking to hotel staff, that it wasn’t Shane at her door, probably wasn’t even an intentional knock. As disappointment seared her, all she could think was, Oh, hell, Cecily, you’re really into this guy.
Apparently, there was still a time bomb on the other side of her door.