Page 57 of Shootout
Geneva made a pouty face and checked her perfect makeup one more time in the mirror. We chortled just as three drunk girls would. I was the least drunk of the three, but I felt a slight buzz.
“I suppose we’ve kept them waiting long enough,” Geneva said.
“Steele hates being late. He’s obsessively punctual. I, on the other hand, arrive when the mood hits me.” Cin checked the time. “Let them stew a little longer. It’s good for keeping their egos under wraps. We’ll be ready when we’re ready and not when they say so.”
“You’re evil,” I giggled.
“No, just refusing to let a controlling man succumb to his controlling nature. It’s for his own good.” Cin and Steele continued to amaze me. They were thoroughly devoted to each other but such opposites. We waited a few more minutes. Since we were out of wine, Cin and Geneva decided it was time.
I followed them down the hallway to the main living area. The guys whistled as we approached one by one, but I only had eyes for Banks.
I’d never seen him in a tux before, and he was a masculine sight to behold. I stopped and stared, the words sucked out of me, and he stuttered, but nothing intelligible came out of his mouth. Banks wore his tux well; it accentuated his broad shoulders, hockey butt, and muscular legs. Obviously, he’d had it custom made to fit that well. Whatever he spent on it was worth every penny.
Maybe we’d skip the gala and go right to the private after-party, and I meant private. I shook off those naughty thoughts somewhat, but they lolled around in the back of my mind and lay in wait to conjure up images at the most inappropriate times.
Down, girl. Relax.
I fanned myself, and Banks’s slow smile melted my resolve even further. Regardless, we were committed to making an appearance if nothing else, then we could hop in an Uber and…
I was the one who insisted on more time to sort out my jumbled feelings without the added confusion of good sex. Right now, abstaining was the stupidest idea I’d come up with in a long time, and my reasons for doing so were flimsy and useless.
“You’re fucking beautiful.” Banks’s tone was reverent and awestruck. The fucking would be beautiful, but I wisely kept that remark to myself.
“So are you.”
“Men aren’t beautiful.”
“You are.”
He snorted but puffed out his chest and slid a cocky wink my way. I laughed. Damn, but I could see myself falling for this man. Enough time had passed since Rick and I had been a thing, I shouldn’t worry about being on the rebound, yet I had to protect my heart from another blow. Possibly a fatal one this time.
Banks wasn’t Rick, but I’d never thought Rick would walk away from what we’d had, so what the hell did I know? My confidence in my ability to judge a person’s true feelings was at an all-time low.
Banks interrupted my fretting by stepping into me and looping his arms around my waist. “I don’t know what’s put that look on your face, but you have nothing to worry about. You’re stunning, and I’m humbled to be the man lucky enough to escort you. Of course, I’m one of the best-looking guys on the team, which does make me worthy.”
That last remark drew boos from Steele and Axel.
I met Banks’s gaze and smiled, burying my troubles for another night. Tonight I’d be swept away and enjoy this fairy tale with my personal Prince Charming.
ChapterTwenty-One
GALA
~~Banks~~
Jessie was so hot she burned my self-control to a crisp. That dress. That fucking dress. It incinerated me in a good way. Shimmering gold material clung to her every curve. It dipped low in front, revealing ample cleavage, and stopped just short of being indecent in the back. There was a slit up to her hip on one side, which exposed my already overloaded senses to a delectable length of a shapely thigh.
I held on by a thread. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as we sat next to each other in the limo. I placed my hand on her bare thigh and resisted the urge to slide my fingers upward until I reached what had become one of my favorite places on earth. A quick glance and my teammates and their dates proved they wouldn’t have noticed if I’d pulled Jessie onto my lap and humped away. They were wrapped up in their own worlds. If we’d been alone, I’d have instructed the driver to turn around and head to a hotel. Imagining stripping Jessie out of that dress made me as hard as a hockey puck. I discreetly rolled down the window a crack to get some air in an attempt to clear my head.
“Are you okay?” Jessie’s deep-brown eyes filled with concern.
“After seeing you in this dress, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again,” I chuckled, and Jessie blushed.
We pulled up to the venue. The chauffeur opened the door, leaving me no choice but to get out. I held out my hand and helped Jessie. She was steadier on her feet than the other two girls, and I was grateful for that. Regardless, she clung to my arm as if I were her lifeline or protector or something. I loved that feeling of being the one she leaned on when she was nervous.
We walked up the steps and into the large ornate entry foyer of the venue, an elegant, older building near the waterfront that’d been restored and converted into an event and conference space. I’d heard that the Parkers owned the building and wondered if they owned half of Seattle. It seemed like it.
“Wait.” I gently pulled Jessie to me as the others in our party entered the ballroom ahead of us.
