Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
The stage is set—if Shanna shows up. Now I worry she won’t. After all, the woman who prides herself on punctuality is fifteen minutes late. Is she trying to make a statement or yank my chain? Or is there some other reason she refuses to come here tonight? What could possibly be more important to her than winning? Not embarrassment or modesty. She’s already survived her first public scene, which is always the most nerve-wracking. But one thing I have noticed? Every time I try to get close to Shanna, she seems increasingly anxious and tense.
Is it possible she fears being close to me more than she fears losing?
“You’re wearing out the carpet,” Del teases.
I shoot him a dark glare. “She’s not coming.”
“She’ll be here. You said yourself the woman is prickly and contrary for the purpose of being such. You admitted that she likes to control her situation, so it can’t have been easy on her when you told her when to show up, what to wear…and nothing about what she could expect.”
All of that is true, yet I have a larger purpose than being a controlling jackass. “I want Shanna to lean on me. I want her to know that she can trust me.”
I want her to see what it feels like for someone to stand by her, even if she isn’t winning.
“You can't force her to figure that out.”
“Normally, I wouldn't try, but with Shanna…” I sigh and stare at the video cameras that show no sign of her arrival. “If I can’t find some way now to encourage her to latch on to me, she’ll slip through my fingers.”
Del shrugs. “Why does it matter? I mean, I agree she will be helpful in finding whoever has violated the club’s rules, but we can flush out the asshole with or without her.”
“She is not business to me; she’s personal.”
“How personal?”
In other words, how deep are my feelings? That question has been plaguing me all day. Shanna is more to me than catching a scumbag blackmailer, more than an amazing lay, more than an intriguing woman. Analyzing how it happened and why is pointless. It is what it is, and I always trust my gut.
“I think I’m in love.”
“That was fast. Less than a week.” Del arches a dark brow.
“Technically, I’ve known her longer. But more time won’t change what I feel, except to make it deeper. She’s strong and vulnerable, smart, adorably stubborn, and in utter need of someone to love. How can I resist?” I flash Del a self-deprecating smile.
“How, indeed? If you intend to resist, figure it out fast. She’s here.”
I whip my gaze up to the bank of cameras and smile.
“Aww. She’s wearing a damn trench coat,” Del grouses.
Laughter bubbles up inside me. “Of course she is.” Her little rebellion. “But I’ll bet she wore what I sent her underneath.”
“I can’t wait for this.” Del rubs his hands together.
With heat burning a path through my veins, I burst out of the security office and stalk toward the front door. Del follows close behind.
I intercept Shanna two seconds after she walks in. “Querida, are you all right?”
Shanna lifts her lashes in a skittish glance. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Her guarded tone sets off alarm bells. So she’s trying to push her armor back in place and put distance between us. I frown. Did I push her too hard last night? Or make her feel too guilty?
“When you didn’t arrive at eight-thirty, I was concerned.”
“No need.” When I reach up to help her with her coat, she jerks away. “Don’t. Just wait until…”
“We’re on stage, and I’m supposed to fuck you?”
She swallows and sends me a shaky nod that sears my guts with panic. After tonight, she’s going to turn around and walk out of my life if I don’t think fast.
“Is something wrong?” I gentle my expression.
She looks away. “This is business. You’re doing what you need to do. So am I.”
“Shanna, this isn’t just business or sex to me. I want it to be more than that for you, too.”
She shoots me a wary stare. “Until Saturday, I have to focus on fixing my problem. You want me to dance for the joy of it, not for the trophy. I can’t be joyful if I already know before I dance a step that I can’t win.”
I sigh. I’d hoped I’d gotten through to her during our ice cream date, at least in some small way. But I’ve been deluding myself. She’s determined to shut me out and focus on the prize.
“Not to interrupt, kids,” Del says, “but you need to make your way back to the room so you can get started. Showtime is in eight minutes.”
Resisting the urge to rake a hand through my hair, I gnash my teeth. I need a minute to collect a few props and my thoughts.