Liam took the phone and pressed it against his ear without breaking stride. “Yes,” he said after a while. Then, “Seems rude.” More silence as Sebastian talked. Finally, Liam barked a “Fine” into the line and disconnected.
“Your friend is going to find a fake date for me on Friday night,” Liam told Jaz as he handed her the phone back. “He very insistently wants you to keep your rendezvous with some Devante character and thinks that making it a double will keep things less obtrusive.”
“And the prize for creativity goes to…” Jaz muttered before shaking her head. That was Sebastian for you. She glared at Liam. “Wait. Why the hell did you agree to that?”
Liam shrugged. “I’m here to run your security, not your social interference. If you don’t want to go, tell your friend to call off the event.”
Fine. Be like that. “Do you even know who you’re going with?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” Liam shrugged a shoulder, the slight sheen of perspiration along the muscle grooves shimmering in the sun. “I won’t be there for romance, so it doesn’t matter.”
8
Liam
By Friday, as Liam secured his Glock into an ankle holster in preparation for Jaz’s date, he admitted to himself that few people could keep up her training regimen. Her schedule, which she printed for him each morning, wasn’t a spoiled brat’s journal—it was a professional athlete’s. Jaz pushed herself as hard as any SEAL, but she was smart about it too. Strategic. Professional.
She was also perfectly reasonable toward him. Considerate, even.
So why did it irk him?
Because it was bullshit, that was why. Jaz hadn’t changed her mind or her ways, she simply shut Liam out. The two of them had never been apathetic toward each other. Angry, irritated, downright homicidal—yes. Apathetic—no. Not until Liam had crossed the line and crowded her on that kitchen island. He’d tricked her body into an arousal he knew he could elicit and then he turned his back. He knew better than that.
But when it came to Jaz, he broke all his own rules.
And in response to his misstep, Jaz had done the one thing that Liam hadn’t realized would bother him—she’d shut him out of her emotions completely. Raised a shield of professionalism that he couldn’t get through. And Liam was surprised how much he hated that.
As Liam was shrugging into his sport coat, he felt his phone vibrate. He checked the caller ID. His mother. For a second, he worried that he’d gotten his days confused. Was it Saturday? No, of course it was Friday. Double-date Friday. So why was his mother calling?
“Ma? Everything all right?” He glanced at his watch. Five minutes until they needed to go. “Did Lisa get the car fixed?”
“That’s actually why I’m calling.”
“This isn’t the best time.” He could hear Jaz in the living room and walked down to meet her. “Whatever additional work needs doing, just have the mechanics go ahead and put it on the same card, all right?”
“No.” Of course Patti would choose now to be difficult. Probably because he’d told her it was a bad time. “Liam, you need to stop paying Lisa’s bills. In fact, stop the stipend you send.”
“What? No. Never mind.” He wasn’t going to go down a rabbit hole of conversation with her. “Look, I can afford it. It makes me feel better to know you two are taken care of, all right? So just consider taking the money as a favor you’re doing for me.” Walking into the living room, Liam found Jaz gazing out the bay window into the mountains. The setting sun brushed the outlines of her athletic silhouette, giving her an ethereal glow. “I really need to go.”
“This isn’t about you,” his mother continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Lisa is thirty-five years old. She’s not going to school. She isn’t looking for a job. You paying for everything is enabling her to just…drift. She has no goals. She isn’t dating—”
“Ma, I don’t care how badly you want grandchildren. Lisa has a damn good reason not to date.”
“That’s not—”
“The irony of you of all people protesting a payoff is overwhelming. Lisa will start seeing someone when—if and when—she’s ready. She and I may not like each other much, but don’t think I’m going to turn my back on her. That’s your MO. Not mine.” He turned the phone off with nearly enough force to crack the screen and stuffed it into his pocket.
Jaz turned from the window, her expression confirming she’d heard the tail end of the conversation. Absurdly, Liam wanted her to ask what it was about and who Lisa was—just so he could tell her to mind her own business.
For a moment, that noisy, bubbly curiosity flickered in Jaz’s intelligent eyes. Their gazes met. Jaz’s flickered toward the phone.
“Is—” She hooked her clutch over her wrist. “You look nice.”
He glanced down at himself. Growing up dirt poor, he’d never developed a sense of what to wear to nice places—so he’d hired a discreet stylist. Tanille had put together a dozen outfits for different occasions and issued strict orders not to deviate from the packages. Orders that Liam happily followed since his profession required him to fit into his environment, even when that environment was a five-star restaurant.
Unlike his blend-me-in outfit, Jaz’s soft pink dress had a deep V neck, clung to her torso in the most sinful of ways, and had a flouncy skirt that hit her about three inches above the knee. The lace overlaying it was something unusually feminine for her, but the contrast of the light color against her tanned skin was so show-stopping spectacular that he forced himself to refocus on another less alluring part of her figure. He jerked his chin at her feet, which were clad in impractical four-inch-heel contraptions strapped on with thin bands of leather. “I hate your shoes.”
Jaz wiggled a manicured toe. “Then don’t wear them.”
“They aren’t practical.”
“Noted. What would you have preferred I’d worn?”
“Kevlar,” Liam muttered and started for the door.
They arrived at The Cellar, a five-star restaurant and winery at the heart of Denton Valley, just before seven in the evening. Liam got out of the car first, opened Jaz’s door, and tossed the keys to the valet. He didn’t like the place already. It was little and cute, on a small side street filled with other little and cute places—and enough small roads and shadows to hide a guerilla army.
As the hostess guided them through the vineyard-themed establishment, Liam surveyed the inside, marking the locations of doors and windows, absorbing the customary noises, and considered the patrons. As they approached the back corner table he’d asked Sebastian to reserve, Liam shifted his focus to their upcoming dinner companions—and nearly tripped over Jaz, who’d suddenly stopped short of the table.
A heartbeat later, he understood why. Jaz’s date, a hippy-looking man in a bespoke suit with rows of braids in his hair, was already on his feet to pull out Jaz’s chair. But the person seated across from Liam’s spot wasn’t a leggy blonde, redhead, or brunette. Well, it was a redhead, but with a rather important caveat.