The band shifted to a soft and sensuous salsa. Joe tried a few steps with Fiona leading, but he laughed and gave up.
“Trade ya,” Maddie said, appearing beside Fiona with Wyatt on her arm. “I think I can teach Joe a few tricks.”
Wyatt held out his hand.
With a sense of excitement mixed with dread, Fiona placed her hand in his palm and let him draw her into his arms.
They fit together all too well, his hips rocking her hips in time to the music. Joe had been right, Wyatt could dance. A man who was strong, ruggedly good looking and could dance was a triple threat to Fiona. He reminded her just how much she loved to dance and made her wonder why she’d given it up for the sake of her career.
At the same time, being so close to Wyatt only made her infinitely more aware of his hard muscles, thick thighs and massive arms. How would it feel to be naked, her soft breasts pressed against his rock-hard muscles again? For a moment she melted against him, ready to feel the next best thing. When she realized just how close she was, she stiffened and tried to draw away.
His hand on the small of her back held her in place. “Loosen up,” Wyatt whispered into her ear. “Feel the music and let me show you how to move.”
“I know how to dance,” she retorted, though her voice sounded weak.
“Then show me.” He spun her around, his thigh pushing between hers, his hand creeping lower down her back, pressing her against the solid ridge beneath his fly.
Angry that he thought she couldn’t hold her own on the dance floor and even angrier at herself for caring, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to the music. As far as she was concerned, she could be with any man and still dance the same.
He twirled her away then back into his arms, his body rubbing hers from his chin to his calves, inciting a riot with her nervous system.
Holy hell, her body was on fire, raging with need to be with him…in bed…alone, not surrounded by a crowd of vacationing tourists.
Nearing the end of the passion-filled song, Wyatt swept her up against him and bent her backwards, exposing her throat.
When the music ended, he held her still, bent over her, his lips so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. Just a half-inch would close the distance.
“Uh, Fiona, dear,” Maddie said beside her. “The music stopped.”
Fiona stared up into Wyatt’s eyes and blinked, the moment gone.
Wyatt set her on her feet. “Thank you for the dance.”
Brushing her hands down the length of the dress, she pushed her hair back from her face. “Well, I should call it a ni—”
A loud crash from the direction of the kitchen made everyone jump.
Wyatt grabbed her around the middle, shoved her to the floor and threw himself on top of her.
Crushed to the sticky tiles, Fiona could barely breathe, much less move beneath the weight and strength of the man above her.
“Magnus,” Joe spoke, as if from a distance. “It’s okay. The bus boy dropped a tub of dishes. It’s okay.” He grabbed Wyatt’s elbow and dragged him to his feet.
Unfettered by Wyatt’s big body, Fiona rolled to her feet and studied the man.
His face was pale, his brows dipped into a fierce frown, his hands bunched into fists. “Have to go.”
“Magnus. It’s okay,” Joe repeated. “The reflex will fade. You just have to give it time.”
Wyatt turned to Fiona, his gaze sweeping over her rumpled, stained dress, his jaw twitching on the side. “I’m sorry.” He tossed some bills on the table, pushed through the throng of people staring at him and left the restaurant.
Fiona shook her head. “What the hell just happened?”
Joe stared after his friend. “PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.”
“And that makes him throw women to the ground?”
Joe smiled sadly. “He’d have thrown me to the ground had I been closest to him.” He shook his head. “It’s been the hardest thing for me to deal with since my last deployment. An IED exploded next to my HMMWV. Rattled my brain and I can’t sit still too long. I get punchy. I think Wyatt had it worse.”
“How so?” Fiona’s gaze followed Wyatt as he took off along the sidewalk bordering the River Walk. She wanted to go after him but knew she couldn’t keep up. Not in heels.
“From what I heard, Wyatt was captured and tortured on his last mission. I don’t know what all they did to him, but it must have been bad. That’s why he’s here in San Antonio. He just recently was released from the hospital.”
Maddie touched her arm. “Are you okay, Fiona?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m just a little tired. I think I’ll head back to my room.”
“I’ll see Maddie to the parking garage,” Joe offered.
Stunned by Wyatt’s action and abrupt departure, she nodded absently and said, “Thanks. See you two tomorrow.” She left the restaurant. Instead of heading straight for the hotel, she turned the direction Wyatt had gone.
After walking for several blocks, her feet hurt in the heels and she wished she’d had on her jogging shorts and tennis shoes. Catching up to Wyatt would be impossible, even if she knew which direction he’d gone.
Her heart heavy, she turned back and arrived at the hotel before ten o’clock.
The lobby was busy with guests checking in late. Many spoke other languages and had an entourage of staff with them.
Though she felt as if she should be greeting them and making them feel welcome, Fiona didn’t have it in her to be sociable. The thought of a tortured Wyatt roaming the streets of San Antonio bothered her more than she would have expected.
She took the elevator up and let herself into the room she’d share with Wyatt…if he returned. As she swiped her card through the locking mechanism, she held her breath, praying he’d be inside, safe and sound.
Pushing the door open, she let go of the breath she’d held. No Wyatt. The room was cold and empty, much like her life had been up to the point at which she’d been bumped into the river and pulled out by a big strapping soldier.
Without bothering to duck into the bathroom, Fiona stripped out of her sandals and dress and pulled her nightgown over her head. The blue baby-doll, sheer gown barely came down over her bottom. If she’d known she’d be sharing a room, she might have brought pajamas that covered her from neck to toe. Not knowing if the AC would be sufficient to keep her cool, she’d chosen the lightest gown she had. If she hadn’t been crazy busy all day, she’d have gone home to get less revealing PJs. Or she could have asked Maddie to stop by her place, but she’d sent her off on other more pressing matters than PJs.
Too tired and dispirited to worry about it, she fluffed her pillow, climbed into the bed and leaned back against the headboard, sitting up, waiting for Wyatt to return to their room.
Worry kept her awake past midnight. Despite the activities of the day, she couldn’t force her eyelids closed. Instead she slipped down into the sheets, afraid to go to sleep for fear of dreaming of the man who’d thrown her on the floor to protect her from attack.
After an hour of lying there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what had set the man off, she climbed out of the bed and wandered into the bathroom. A shower might clear her head and let her finally get to sleep. Stripping out of her nightgown, she climbed into the tub and turned on the shower. Cool water to chill the desire rising in her every time her mind drifted back to the soldier who’d be sleeping in her room. Should she let him into her bed to get him out of her system? Or should she keep to her plan and remain abstinent throughout the conference?
Fiona switched the water colder until she was shivering by the time she stepped out of the shower and still her body warmed from the inside.
Damn the man for invading her thoughts when he wasn’t even there for her to do anything about.