Even before he’d finished asking, Fiona was shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I have too much to do this morning.”
“You should eat to keep your strength up. From what I understand it’ll be a very long day, and if I’m not mistaken you probably skipped breakfast.” Joe gripped her elbow and led her toward the exit, refusing to take no for an answer.
“Joe, let her be. If she doesn’t want to go to breakfast with you, don’t push her,” Wyatt said.
Fiona wavered. “Well, I could stand a cup of coffee.”
“It’s settled then.” Joe pulled her hand through the crook of his elbow. “You’re coming with us.”
Wyatt followed behind the two as they walked out into the already warming Texas sunshine. As he trailed the other two, he couldn’t avoid noticing the twitch of Fiona’s hips and the way her skirt tightened around her thighs with every step she took. Those thighs had been wrapped around his waist at several points during the previous night’s mattress gymnastics. They were strong and sexy as hell. The woman worked out. Another thing he liked about her. Hell, there wasn’t much he didn’t like. Which made it even harder to resist her.
His jeans tightened, his cock pressing hard against his zipper. If he could trust Joe not to make a move on Fiona, he’d leave and let them eat breakfast alone. But the thought of Fiona with anyone else but him set his teeth on edge. Which didn’t make any sense at all. He didn’t want her. No, that wasn’t right.
He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.
Trouble was, he didn’t want to hurt her.
Chapter Eight
Fiona sat beside Joe, directly across the table from Wyatt. Though she didn’t let her gaze connect with his too often, she could feel him staring at her and it made her squirm in her seat, her thighs tightening, her pussy creaming all over again. She could still feel the warm, wet rasp of his tongue across her clit and the weight of his palms cupping her breasts.
Trying to force her mind out of the bedroom, she picked at the breakfast taco on her plate, her appetite nonexistent.
For food.
What was Joe saying? So deep in her thoughts about being naked with Wyatt, she’d missed half of what he was talking about.
“One of my connections at the local FBI office informed me that they have been getting warnings from Washington to be on the lookout for trouble. The tech gurus in the cyber division say there’s been increased activity among known terrorist organizations in connection with the International Trade Convention.”
Fiona dragged her attention back to the conversation, the importance of which could be the difference between a successful convention and a complete disaster where delegates and civilians could die. “All the more reason to be on our toes at all times. We don’t want anyone hurt.” Despite her effort to avoid Wyatt, her gaze rose to his and locked.
His dark brown gaze bore into hers. “No, we don’t want anyone hurt.”
Joe stared from Fiona to Wyatt. “On that we can all agree. Which makes it all the more imperative to stop situations from happening before they become dangerous.”
Wyatt nodded. “Exactly. We should avoid trouble where at all possible. Even if it means denying certain persons from being around others.”
“Right.” Joe tapped his finger on the table. “I understand the Columbians and the Venezuelans have been calling each other names. Perhaps you should keep the delegates from those two countries out of each other’s way.”
Fiona stared at Wyatt a moment longer, her brows lifting. Not only would they need to keep certain delegates apart, Wyatt would probably try to maintain his distance from her as well. “The social event tonight will be a challenge. I’ve studied the list of guests and made notes on who has issues with whom.”
“I’d like to have that list,” Wyatt said.
“It’s in my room at the hotel. If you come two hours before the event, I’ll brief you on who to watch out for.” She glanced away, fighting to keep her lips from quirking up on the corners. Not only would she brief him on the people attending, but she might even debrief him for a little pre-hors d’oeuvre snack before the evening’s ordeal.
Oh yeah. He didn’t wear briefs. That smile she’d been holding onto broke through. Even better. If the man thought he could make love to her so expertly the night before and walk out of her life the next morning, he had another think coming. So he had some issues with PTSD? She could deal with it. Her parents hadn’t raised a wimp.
Her mind made up, her day laid out with so many coordination tasks to tick and tie, she pushed back from the table to get started. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do.” She stared across the table at Wyatt. “I’ll see you later.”
His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
As far as Fiona was concerned the day couldn’t go fast enough. All the plans she’d made for the convention were falling into place. The caterer was on target to deliver on time, Joe and his dogs would be sweeping the hotel again at noon. Preston would have guards positioned at each entrance and exit, along with one of Joe’s bomb-sniffing dogs and handlers. The social event would take place in the hotel’s grand ballroom.
And if she was lucky, precisely two hours before the social hour, she’d take care of that itch that was threatening to consume her.
Wyatt spent most of the day between the convention center and the hotel, double-checking with Preston, Arthur and Joe at intervals to make sure all their bases were covered and nothing slipped through. When it was time to meet Fiona in her room, he couldn’t deny the rapid beat of his heart or the fact that his jeans had become two times tighter than they’d been all day. Standing outside the room they’d shared the night before, he raised his hand to knock instead of running his keycard through the locking mechanism. He had yet to find another room, the concierge insisting all the rooms in the River Walk area had been overbooked and he’d be lucky to find anything until after the convention.
Drawing in a deep breath, he knocked, telling himself he’d be in and out as soon as she imparted the information he’d need to mingle at the party effectively.
Less than a second passed and the door swung open.
His lips quirked. She must have been waiting on the other side. It was nice to know she had been as anxious as he had been for the agreed upon hour to arrive. She stood in the doorway, naked, her long red hair hanging down over one of her shoulders, barely covering the tip of one breast.
All good intentions of remaining hands off flew out the window.
She grabbed his hand, yanked him through the doorway and shut it behind him.
He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around hers to keep him from reaching out to capture one of her perfectly formed breasts.
Focus on the eyes.
“Uh, did I catch you at a bad time?” he asked, his gaze slipping from her eyes down to her smiling lips and lower to those smooth mounds jutting out as perky as ever, the tips knotted into hard little buds, tempting him to perdition. Oh boy.
“You and I both know this is as good a time as any.” She reached out, grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing it over the back of a chair. “We have exactly one hour before I have to be in the ballroom directing the preparations.” Her fingers made quick work of the button on his jeans, pushing it through and then sliding the zipper down.
His cock sprang free, hard, thick and throbbing. Wyatt groaned. “I told you, I’m no good for you.”
“Let me be the judge of that.” She stared down at his manhood. “Lose the boots,” she commanded, as she cupped her breasts and squeezed the tips. “I don’t know how long I can wait.”