Page 53 of Gilt

“Um, Mr. West?” The valet looks politely away as he calls through the window. “Can we park your car for you?”

I look around, and I’m embarrassed to see a number of hotel guests clustered around the entrance, phones in hand.

“Yes,” Jameson calls back. The valet opens the driver's door and offers me a hand to help me extricate myself from my precarious situation. As soon as I’m around the car, I take a bow, careful to make sure my middle finger is hidden in plain sight. Enjoy the photos.

“That’s enough, Duchess.” Jameson puts a hand on the small of my back. He keeps it there as we make a dash for the entrance, and under its comforting warmth, I don’t even notice the rain.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

No one is prepared for rain in the desert. We’re half-drowned by the time we’re inside the lobby. Jameson catches me around the waist and spins me behind a column.

“Let’s finish the game we started the night we met,” he suggests, nuzzling along my jawline. He trails upward until his lips find my earlobe, but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he catches the tender shell between his teeth. The nip is playful, but the ache that elicits inside me is very serious.

“Truth or dare,” I moan, not caring that half of Vegas could be filming us right now. We’ll be viral on TikTok by tomorrow.

“Truth,” he murmurs. The heat of his breath whispers unspoken promises, but it can’t distract me from the question I need answered.

“Why did you come looking for me that day in the graveyard?” I ask.

“That’s what you want to know?” He seems surprised, but he doesn’t pull away from me. Instead, he moves his mouth back up to my ear. “There are three reasons, Duchess. Two I will share, but the other, I’m keeping in my pocket.”

Does he feel the need to keep me guessing, too? It’s a twisted game we’re caught in, neither of us sure what the other’s intentions are, and it’s made all the more dangerous because we’ve put our hearts at stake.

“I’ll settle for two,” I breathe.

“Because I wanted to see you,” he admits. It’s not the answer I expect. That day, of all days, he should have had more important things on his mind, but as his hands grip my hips, I push the troubling thought down where it can’t distract me.

“You want a better explanation,” he guesses. He pulls away, only far enough so that our eyes can meet. “I didn’t plan to leave you there that night. I didn’t plan any of this, and I suppose I wanted you to know that.”

“And the other reason?”

“I wanted to convince myself you did it, but instead, I think I fell for you.”

“How did you know I was there? Did you follow me?”

“I went to your house,” he says, “And then I saw you running. So yes, Emma, I did follow you. Does that upset you?”

I swallow and nod. I can’t admit that his explanation is reasonable because if whatever’s happening between us is going to work, there have to be some boundaries. “I need to know I’m still my own person and that you respect that.”

Given how it hurts when he steps away from me, I need to remind myself of that, too.

“I’m sorry.” Sincerity shines in his silver-blue eyes. “I suppose now isn’t the time to bring up the security detail I’d like to place on you.”

I raise one eyebrow, sliding my palms up his chest, and then I push him away. “I’m starting to think everyone’s right, and you are crazy.”

“Does that make you insane by association?” he asks.

“Maybe.” I close my eyes and let out an annoyed huff of air.

“You have a terrible habit of ruining perfectly good dates.”

“So this is finally a date.” His mouth twists into a haughty grin that screams I told you so.

“Don’t look so self-congratulatory,” I warn him, “Not when I just told you that you’re a first-class date wrecker.”

He reaches out and fiddles with the hem of my tank. “But you have to understand, I was told those weren’t dates.”

“So you weren’t trying?”