she in that much of a hurry to get away from him?
So what had he done to turn her into the ice queen? And how could he reverse that trend? He wasn’t used to this, feeling unsettled, unsure of what to do next. Berringer Bodyguards was his main focus, and he liked it that way. He knew what to do there, and he did it well. The business was gaining more prestige—especially since his brother had married a U.S. senator’s daughter—and it took even more of his time and energy.
But he wasn’t there right now. He was here, watching Tiffany, whom he’d only known for a grand total of four hours. Less than that if you counted only the time they’d spoken directly to each other.
The rings on her fingers sparkled as he watched her talk, her graceful hands accenting her conversation. He knew in his gut that she would be as expressive in bed. He liked the loosely tied knot of long auburn hair at the nape of her neck and he wanted to untie it. Let it fall down over her shoulders, his fingers. He liked the scooped back of her dress, how it revealed the contours of her shoulders and neck. He liked the idea of planting kisses there.
A fling suddenly sounded like a very appealing addition to his vacation itinerary, but he wasn’t sure she would agree. And now she was leaving, before he could find out what he had done to offend her. Watching her kiss Isabel’s cheek and head to the door, he found himself following her out.
“Hey, Tiffany, hold on a second,” he called to her, watching her pause and turn, her shoulders sinking a little as she seemed to accept her fate.
What the hell had he done to cause this reaction?
“So are you going to tell me what I did?” he asked, looking directly into her gorgeous green eyes. Directness was usually best.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said testily. “And I need to go,” she said, clearly agitated and wanting to leave.
“Hmm. Did you know that while it’s commonly thought that people who don’t make eye contact are unreliable, in truth, someone who is lying will go out of their way to make eye contact, trying to convince you they are being honest?”
He saw irritation flash in her eyes, and her cheeks warmed, making her even prettier.
“Are you saying I’m a liar?” she asked, and tried to break away, but he held her fast. “Funny, I thought the same about you.”
“When did I lie to you? We’ve only known each other for a few hours.”
She glared at him, facing off in the middle of the small parking lot, until she sighed and shook her head.
“Look, drop it. I don’t get involved with married men.”
“That’s a good policy, but I’m not married.”
“Really? Here’s an FYI—just because you don’t wear your ring doesn’t mean you’re not married. Thanks but no thanks,” she said, storming away, back stiff, nose turned up.
He thought she was amazingly cute, even though he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Wait,” he said as he hurried up to follow her. “I’m not married. Who told you I was married?” he asked.
“You. You said you’ve only been in two weddings, your brother’s and your own .” She punctuated the last two words with an accusing finger poked into his chest.
“Ohhhh.” He was used to everyone around him knowing, and saw how she would have jumped to that conclusion. “I’m sorry. I was married. My wife died several years ago.”
She gave him an even dirtier look. “Right. Listen, I get that you want to hook up while you’re out of town, but I’m not interested. And it’s pretty awful to say your wife died just to get some other woman to—”
Garrett reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet, sliding out a memorial card with Lainey’s picture, and her dates of birth and death.
“This was my wife, Elaine,” he said softly, showing Tiffany. “And this is her obit,” he added, flipping the picture over where the funeral home had printed a lovely quote that he had selected at the time. He