My thoughts run awry as I run over all the possibilities in my head. Maybe he’s showing me something.
“If you tell me who I’m looking for, I can make sure he never steps foot on the property.”
I jerk on his lap, my gaze swinging to his. Shock colors my facial expression.
“You’d do that?”
He leans back against his chair, watching me. “Anyone who could lay a hand on you like that shouldn’t even be walking the streets, but that’s an issue for another day. Just say the word and I’ll keep him far away.”
Even though all of it is fake, I feel oddly content that he’d do that for me. There’s that fluttering sensation in my belly again. Something light billows in my chest—like glitter. That’s the only way to describe the sensation. It feels like a bottle of glitter has just burst in my chest. I get some odd form of satisfaction just knowing he cares.
I don’t even care what kind of sick psycho that makes me—that I’d bask in his protectiveness of me when I’m running from an invisible man and an invisible relationship.
The realization only makes me hate myself for lying. Because what if Baz is innocent? That would mean I’m lying and wiggling my way into his life just to convict his friends and possibly bring him and the businesses he’s worked so hard for down with them. It would make what we share unreal. It would taint it. And even though I’ve been denying it, I do feel something for Baz, and it’s not just because of his good looks. It’s truly because I feel connected to him in a way I’ve never felt before. There’s this static electricity between us; a magnetic force I can’t seem to shake.
If he ever finds out the truth—if he ever finds out who I really am—that would all be ruined. He’d hate me and for good reason.
Fear snakes its way up my body as I stare at him, and it’s not fear for my life. It’s fear for my heart and mind. Instead of using words because, at the moment, I truly feel incapable, I lean in and kiss him. Pressing my lips against his, I close my eyes and fall into his touch, reveling in everything that is Baz King.
Falling for Baz is a deadly form of self-destruction—if there ever was one. I’m becoming a prisoner to my heart and my emotions. It’s nonsensical, not to mention idiotic.
He has the capacity to end me. To ruin me.
But I won’t let that happen. I can’t.
Because if I did? I’d pay for it with my life. That I’m sure of.
With the floppy straw hat shielding her face from the sun and the oversized sunglasses covering her eyes, I shouldn’t be able to spot her as quickly as I have. My eyes trail across her exposed flesh, the warm sunrays bronzing her skin as she sunbathes on the lounger at one of the pools here at the resort.
Earlier, I told Mackenzie I had work to do today, which I did, but I wrapped up early, and now, I have business to handle elsewhere. I need to fly out to San Francisco this evening and meet with a new contracting company for another chain of Kings Resorts. I usually fly out on the jet by myself, but just as I’ve been doing the past few days, I’ve found myself wanting to be near Mackenzie more than any other woman I’ve previously spent time with.
It shouldn’t exactly be a shock. She intrigues me. From the moment I met her, I knew she was different, and with each moment we spend together, it only proves just how deep she’s embedded herself into my world. I don’t normally dwell or worry about women, but with Mackenzie, I find myself doing both. She’s an enigma. She’s fine china I want to wrap in my arms and hold close to my chest out of fear she’ll crash to the ground and shatter. Because when I look deep in her eyes, practically scouring every crevice of her soul, I can see the hairline cracks in her armor.
I’m a bastard—I won’t deny that—because a very large part of me wants to break down Mackenzie’s exterior and watch her fall apart, if only she’ll allow me to put her back together. My feelings for her are contradicting. I want to protect her, but the old part of me, the Baz who has been around for so long, doesn’t understand the new Baz’s need to protect. He doesn’t understand the infatuation with one woman, not when he has the cream of the crop at his fingertips. But that’s just the thing. I don’t want any other woman. I want this one. I want to own the one with the hard exterior, the one who plays a tough game but is really a pile of mush inside, and the one with hair so dark and eyes so mysterious, you’re left wondering who really lives inside the beautiful shell of the woman.
Mackenzie is so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice my approach, not even when my shadow blocks her view of the sun. Goosebumps rise on her bared flesh from the lack of direct heat. She peeks an eye open beneath her tinted shades, and like gasoline on a fire, a smile slowly spreads across her face.
“I could get used to this.”
A chuckle bubbles up my chest, spilling past my lips at the comment. Still blocking the sun from view, I can see the way her eyes take stock of me. I’m dressed in a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and her gaze lingers on my forearms before moving to my slacks and, once again, pausing on my thighs. At her obvious perusal of me, I do the same, taking in her flat stomach and luscious curves. She truly is a work of fucking art.
“Oh, I can, too.” I smirk, trailing my heated gaze across her exposed flesh in the red two-piece bikini. “What are your plans for the rest of the weekend? You look awfully busy.”
She purses her lips, fighting back a grin. “So busy,” she drawls. “The busiest I’ve ever been.” My mouth twists wryly. “Buuut, I might be able to make an exception. What did you have in mind?”
“I have to fly out to San Francisco for a meeting. How would you feel about accompanying me?”
When her eyes grow round, I find her reaction comical. “Can you even get us a flight that quickly?”
I must seem amused by her lack of comprehension because her brows dip into a frown. Stepping closer, I drop to my haunches in front of the lounger and trail the tip of my finger across her left collarbone to toy with the thin strap of her top.
“Don’t need to, baby. That’s what my jet is for.”
Slowly, she rests her glasses at the top of her head, giving me an unobstructed view of her gorgeous eyes. Her throat works a quick swallow.
“When would we leave?”
“Preferably in a few hours, but only if your schedule can handle it.”
This time, she rolls her eyes, but even in doing so, I still spot the excitement in them. It’s impossible to miss.
With the flight time being about only an hour long, the flight to San Francisco will be quick and easy. While packing, Mackenzie expressed her fear of flying, which I thought was insane. The woman has flown from New York to LA twice now. Her fear of flying certainly can’t be that bad.
I was wrong.
She’s a jittery mess, wringing her hands together in her lap as we take off. To take her mind off being airborne, I distract her.
“Ever been to San Francisco before?”
She shakes her head. “I’m not really a fan of the foggy year-round weather. I prefer a little of all seasons.”
My mouth quirks. “When you travel as much as I do, you learn to enjoy all seasons.”