When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars #9) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,53
more clearheaded about anyone. No man is going to derail me.” She could see he didn’t believe her, and she tried to explain. “The three of us . . . You, Thad, me . . . We’re not like most other people. Our work comes first.”
He nodded and then grinned. “Do you want to mess with him?”
She tilted her head. “What do you have in mind?”
* * *
Where the hell was she? When he’d returned to the hotel and found the suite empty, he’d texted her and gotten no response. Then he’d texted the idiot he’d stupidly left to watch her.
Crickets.
He stalked to the lobby and talked to a bellman who’d seen Garrett drive off with The Diva in his Maserati GT convertible.
Thad told himself she’d be fine. The idiot wasn’t an idiot. He’d keep her safe. But . . .
She should have been sound asleep here in the suite with Garrett standing guard outside her bedroom door.
He paced the floor like a parent waiting for a kid who’d violated curfew.
Half an hour passed. An hour. Finally, he heard them laughing in the hallway. Fucking laughing!
The door opened. She was all rumpled. Her dress had a swirly skirt, her hair was down and tangled, and she was barefoot, carrying her heels. What mainly struck him about Garrett was how young the kid looked. The epitome of youthful manliness. No fine lines webbed his eyes, no brackets ridged his mouth, and he’d bet anything that Garrett’s knees didn’t creak when he got out of bed in the morning.
Thad kept his voice in control, but he still sounded like a reprimanding parent. “Where have you been?”
“At a club,” Olivia said brightly.
“A club?” He lost it, venting his anger on Garrett. “You took her to a club?”
The kid shrugged. “She’s a wild one.”
Thad turned on Olivia. “What about your voice? What kind of opera singer goes to a nightclub where the noise level is off the fucking decibel chart?”
Her smile was maddeningly serene. “I didn’t talk.”
“She’s a great dancer,” Garrett said quickly.
“You are, too.” She gave the kid all kinds of smiles.
Garrett glanced uneasily at Thad. “I guess it’s time I go.”
“Good guess,” Thad snarled.
One of Garrett’s eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, and then, out of nowhere, he called an audible. In the sneak play of the century, he kissed The Diva with pinpoint accuracy, right on the lips—a full-on, wide open, All Pro, forward pass . . .
. . . with an eligible receiver kissing him right back.
Thad leaped forward.
The Diva shot out her arm—toward him, not toward the quarterback sneak—keeping Thad at a distance while she also kept her lips glued to Garrett’s. Finally, she unglued and patted the asshole on the chest. “Good night, lover.”
Garrett smiled and headed into the hallway only to turn back and make a small, quick movement—so small and quick Thad doubted The Diva even noticed. The kid lifted his arms and pointed toward Thad, the gesture over almost as soon as it had begun.
Son of a bitch. Garrett had tossed Thad a game signal. The same signal referees used to indicate that the offense had just earned a first down.
The clueless Diva shut the door and smiled at Thad. “That was fun.”
He took a deep breath. Then another. He barely recognized himself. He was Thad Walker Bowman Owens! He’d never been jealous of another man in his life, yet here he was, fuming over a wet-behind-the-ears kid barely out of college. A kid who could run faster than Thad, throw farther . . .
The Diva smiled and gave him this soft, melty-eye, non-Diva look. “I adore you. I really do.”
And that was it. Before he could conjure up even a semblance of a response, she’d sauntered into her bedroom, that swirly black skirt spanking her thighs.
* * *
Olivia smiled around her electric toothbrush. She was crazy about Clint Garrett. He was the mischievous little brother she’d always wanted—although she definitely wouldn’t have kissed her little brother the same way she’d kissed Clint. But tonight, with Thad looking on, it had been too much fun to resist.
Fun. Something that hadn’t played a big part in her life until Thad Owens had appeared.
Being with Clint tonight—trying to follow his steps in the country line dances—had been a reprieve from the overwhelming sexual sizzle she experienced when she was with Thad. The sizzle, mixed in with foreboding—an ominous sense she was inching too close to the rim of an active volcano.