“I’m sure,” Devon replied dryly. And she guessed Trey had a lot to do with that exorbitant turnout. Hell, even she’d endure an hour of contortionism to ogle Trey if she didn’t already get to see him on a daily basis.
“Well, I hope you’ll come back.”
I’d rather eat glass. “Thanks.”
A broad hand rested on her lower back and sent electric tingles up her spine. “Great session, Melody,” Trey said in his deep, resonant voice.
“Nice to see you, Trey. As always.” The instructor turned her attention to another attendee.
Swallowing the sour taste in her mouth, she said to Trey, “I take it this is a Saturday ritual for you.”
He nodded. “So what did you think?”
“I think next time we should try kick-boxing.”
He gave a short laugh. “Not your thing, huh?”
“No, it wasn’t relaxing. Sorry.”
Leaning down, he whispered in her ear. “Then I’ll have to give you a massage later.”
Desire ignited and burned away her jealousy. “That sounds tempting.” With a flirtatious tone, she added, “But I only go for full-body messages.”
He smiled against her temple. “That can be arranged.”
“And I want the full hour.”
The sexy stubble on his jaw scraped her cheek. “What if I feel like going longer?”
Sexual anticipation ignited her veins. “I’ll try to endure.”
“Once I get my hands you, you might not have a choice.” He squeezed her waist. “I’ll come by your house around seven.”
“I’ll write you into my appointment book,” she said with a coy smile.
His gaze turned smoky. “While you’re at it, cancel any other plans you have.”
“I like to take my time.” His thumb slid beneath the waist of her leggings and traced her panty line. “I’m very thorough.”
Oh, my God, take me now. “I look forward to testing that theory.”
“Then I suggest you stop working for the day. Go home, get some rest.”
His eyes glittered with heated promise. “Because you won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”
As much as Trey had wanted to take Devon back to work, lead her up to his office, and defy several ethical codes of conduct with her on his desk, he’d forced himself to wait. Even though he suspected the anticipation just might kill him. Their sexual innuendos in the yoga studio had sent desire soaring through his veins, and his blood still hadn’t cooled.
After nodding to the nighttime security guard and stowing two sets of blueprints in his trunk, he drove out of the Soren Security parking lot and headed to the construction site of his contractor. He’d had revisions drawn up by his architect, stamped and approved by the city, and he wanted his contractor renovating his house as soon as possible.
Cranking the top down on his car, he passed Confluence Park, where joggers and cyclists made colorful crisscrossing patterns as they passed each other. Two young families were setting up picnics alongside dozens of dog-walkers and some coeds playing Frisbee. Then he stopped at a red light and absently watched a troop of little kids cross the street with three chaperones herding them along the crosswalk. He smiled as they marched single-file into the Children’s Museum.
Trey looked forward to his own kids enjoying the benefits of living in Denver. The green parks and wilderness trails. The great schools. The museums and rich cultural heritage. So opposite to the dusty haze and crowded neon lights of Vegas. And he’d totally be the dad who chaperoned every field trip. A perk of owning his business. He set his schedule, and he could take whatever flex-time he wanted.
When the light changed, he shifted gears and his mind drifted to Devon. He hoped she took his advice and got some sleep. He’d hated seeing the tension still stamped on her face and the hint of dark circles under her eyes. Too worried about her, he honestly hadn’t slept well last night, either. He wished she’d stayed with him instead of Logan and Allison. He would’ve held her all night. Nothing else, just held her. Assuring her that she was safe. That he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Ever.
But that might’ve come across as kind of intense, he thought with a troubled sigh. He ran a hand through his hair when rushing wind flicked it into his eyes. Devon was as self-sufficient and independent as they came. Somehow, he needed to find a way to convince her that relying on someone didn’t mean surrendering her autonomy or sacrificing everything.
And that being together twenty-four/seven wouldn’t conflict with her life goals. He’d found the woman he wanted to achieve life’s goals with, someone who had his back while he had hers. He loved Devon’s spark. Her energy and spontaneity balanced well with his grounded steadiness and constancy. She made him feel alive inside, and he intended to hold onto that, hold onto her, as long as possible.
If it were up to him, he’d never let her go.
He turned into John Paxton’s construction site and pulled up beside a familiar Harley-Davidson. The collection of skulls spray painted on the tank trailed by red and yellow flames was hard to forget. Then a man who looked suspiciously like his cousin and the motorcycle’s owner stepped out of the construction trailer and strode his way.
He squinted against the bright sunlight. “Adam?”
“Yo.” He wore his typical black jeans, tight black t-shirt, and biker boots, with a pair of mirrored sunglasses tucked into a button hole on his leather vest.
“Considering a career change?” Trey asked dryly.
Adam gave a brief laugh. “Nah. I was checking out the database of our bodyguards’ assignments.”
“And that led you to John Paxton?”
Adam scratched his ear where his American Flag bandana smoothed his chin-length hair back from his face. “One of the guys I ride with in our Denver motorcycle club does construction for Paxton. Since the job just ended, I asked Paxton if Bruno could moonlight for us.”
“Sure.” Trey shrugged. “You came all the way here to ask him in person?”
“Didn’t want to step on any toes, man. I found a sweet assignment for Bruno. A request for a bodyguard came in from a builder who’s getting the shakedown from someone he fired from his crew. He wants presence when he goes to his job sites. You know, so I figured since Bruno gets the lay of the land in construction, he’d be a good fit for the gig.”