I slide my hand down his lapel and tip my head back an inch since my heels bring us close, just like our days on the job. “I do like you in black, though. It matches my soul.”
He lifts a hand and it lands hot and heavy on the bare skin above my ass. He presses in before it slides south, where he cups my cheek and squeezes. “Don’t fuck around tonight. I mean it. I’m working another angle to clear your name and am making headway. This is not the time to dance close to the flames.”
“I’ve never been burned and you know it.”
“Then explain to me why you’re hiding out in my rundown farmhouse in the middle of the forest. You’ve been burned so bad, I’m surprised you don’t leave a trail of ashes with every step you take.”
I narrow my eyes. “My being framed doesn’t count. And why didn’t you tell me you’re working another angle? Don’t you think that could’ve been a topic of conversation at your tense dinner table?”
He shakes his head. “You’re working this alone. I’m working mine alone.”
“I’m hardly working alone, hence you standing here in a tux with your hand down my dress, cupping my bum.”
He squeezes me tighter and his eyes crinkle. “Despite the fact you’re in my bed, you haven’t told me shit about tonight. I’m here to make sure you stay in my bed. Consider me your chaperone.”
“I’m not a baby. I don’t need a daddy figure watching over me.”
His smile spreads from his eyes to his lush lips. “I could get into some Daddy kink.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re late, Cole. You said so yourself. I need to get there early enough to socialize and dump enough money to get noticed.”
He slides his hand out of my dress and tips his head. “Long live the Everglades.”
I push away from his hold and stalk past him on spiked heels. “Indeed.”
When I turn out of the bedroom, I hear male voices—many of them—discussing what sounds to be American sport. I come to a stop when I see Jarvis and Crew standing in the middle of Cole’s family room with Red.
“What happened to your hair?”
I look to my left where Abbott is sitting on a barstool eating cheesy noodles with her little face twisted into a frown. Had I not just inspected myself in the mirror, I’d be worried I looked like the scariest clown who strolled the earth only to terrorize small children.
“It’s a wig,” I explain without offering any reason for it. “What color is my hair in French?”
Her face blanks and I’m all of a sudden grateful Cole doesn’t have a teenager. She turns back to her noodles but answers correctly. “Noir.”
“Bravo!” I turn to our guests. “Jarvis, Crew. Good to see you. What are you doing here?”
All three men take me in from top to toe before Crew steps forward with a shit-eating grin on his face. “I hope you feel as good as you look because you certainly look better than the last time I saw you lying on the banks of the Chesapeake.”
I shrug and reach up to twist my fake hair around my manicured finger. “Thank you. I am feeling so much better. How are the baby and Addy?”
His face lights up, and if dark eyes could twinkle, his might. “Perfect. Amieé will be a month next week. Hard to believe. And nothing agrees more with Addison than motherhood. We need to get you over to Whitetail soon. It’s closed on Mondays—you can have a private tasting. Addison will set it up.”
Warmth settles on the bare skin of my back and Cole’s words brush my temple. “Thanks. Now that she’s feeling better, I want to get Bella out. If we can do it privately until we get this sorted, even better.”
“Gracie would be up for that,” Jarvis pipes in. “She and I are living on the vineyard right now and she’s really taken to you.”
I flip my hand, motioning to myself. “I adore Gracie. When she’s not busy keeping me from bleeding out, she’s playing my personal shopper. Not sure what I’d do without her while being held hostage.”
My lower hip is suddenly in a vise and Cole grits, “You’re hardly being held hostage.”
I hike a brow and glare at him over my shoulder. “Says the man who dragged me here against my will.”
“I can see things are going great,” Crew states. “Here. I have what you asked for.”