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“Sorry, Mr. Jackson, but I don’t drink.”
“You don’t drink?”
“No, sir, not while I’m working. Is there anything you need before I leave the property?”
Martin’s gaze did a slow perusal of my chest before he smiled.
“I need a lot of things, beautiful.” His smile widened.
Gross.
I swept my hand around the room, my gaze followed, taking in the partygoers.
“You have a full house tonight, Mr. Jackson. I’m sure…”
I blinked, then blinked some more, not trusting what I was seeing.
Beside me I heard Martin’s whistled inhale.
I was pretty sure his response was to the bombshell blonde. Mine was to the man she was speaking to.
Wilson.
The blonde’s doe eyes were full of fear as they darted around the room. She looked like a pixie standing next to the tall, broad, handsome Wilson. Yet somehow they weirdly fit together. The woman looked like she needed a protector and Wilson totally hit the mark.
Suddenly I was dismissed.
“I’ll call you should something come up.”
I watched Martin make his way to Wilson and his date, feeling both relief the swarmy Martin was no longer hitting on me and extreme jealousy.
Martin said something to Wilson, they shook hands, then Martin’s attention went to the blonde. Wilson dipped his chin and moved away from the woman, scanning the crowd as he walked toward the bar.
I knew the moment he saw me. I didn’t need to watch his eyes flare, or see his steps falter. I felt an electrical pulse move through me.
This was not good.
I should’ve run.
But instead I stood my ground and watched the show. Wilson McCray did not simply walk—he stalked. His strides were purposeful. He looked like a man who was in control of his body.
As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from drinking him in.
No one wore a suit better than Wilson.
Damn.
“Atlee.”
Unlike Martin’s slimy drawl, Wilson’s growl sent shivers down my arms.
Would there ever be a time when my body wouldn’t react to this man’s voice?
Probably not. All the more reason for me to keep my distance.
“Wilson—”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
