to hide her disappointment. “I’ll take it as a good sign. Maybe he’s sleeping better.”
“Could be. Todd said Cliff seemed to relax quite a bit after viewing that footage Mr. Reordon showed him.”
Emma hoped so. Just in case though, she found herself once more dining in the cafeteria the following week. Cynthia was spending her lunch break running errands, so Emma chose to sit at a small table in the corner where she could lose herself in a sci-fi romance novel while she ate.
She had barely made a dent in the spicy fried rice on her plate when a hush fell over the room.
Pausing with the fork halfway to her mouth, she looked up.
All eyes focused on the doorway.
Several network guards garbed all in black and sporting semiautomatic rifles and tranq guns entered and took up positions around the room like Secret Service agents preceding the president of the United States. Her heart stopped, then began to pound when a familiar figure stepped into the doorway and paused.
Cliff.
Chapter Six
He was even more handsome than Emma remembered, with broad shoulders, the beginnings of dreads, and perfect brown skin that even cover models would envy. It looked so smooth and soft where he didn’t have a five-o’clock shadow, begging to be touched.
Uncertainty painted Cliff’s features as he glanced around. Giving his wide-eyed audience an abrupt nod, he directed his gaze straight ahead and crossed to the counter. Emma couldn’t help but stare like the others. The jeans he wore looked faded, comfortably worn, and clung to powerful thighs. A white T-shirt contrasted nicely with his skin and outlined a muscled chest and abs.
“Cliff!” a booming voice greeted him, so loud in the silence that Emma jumped. Behind the counter, Mason grinned at him. “Good to see you again. What can I get you today?”
Some of the tension in Cliff’s posture eased as he smiled in return.
Damn, he was handsome.
Whatever Cliff said next was spoken too low for her to hear from her position in the corner.
“Yes, sir. Coming right up.” Mason left and returned with a tray heaped with so much food it practically hung over the edges.
Emma stared.
Cliff laughed, the deep rumble drawing a smile from her. “Thank you.” His smile, however, faltered as he turned to face the room. She thought his hands might’ve tightened a bit on the tray, too.
As he strode forward, the thud of his boots seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet that had fallen.
A quiet broken by furtive whispers.
Cliff seated himself at an empty table and gave no indication he noticed when two men nearby rose and moved to a table farther away. Three more did the same.
Emma glared at them. Pussies.
Keeping his gaze on his tray, Cliff began to eat.
Tension thrummed in the air.
Lowering her fork to her plate, Emma added her phone to her tray, then rose and strode toward him. Her pulse picked up as she stopped a few paces away. “Hi.”
Cliff glanced up, his pretty brown eyes reflecting surprise that anyone other than Mason had spoken to him. “Hi.”
She motioned to the chair across from his. “Is this seat saved?” Cynthia had mentioned that Mr. Reordon had dined with Cliff the first couple of times he’d ventured up here.
“No. You can take it.”
She smiled. “Actually, I was wondering if I might join you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Sure.” Rising, he motioned to the chair, then waited for her to settle in it before he retook his own seat.
How sweet and gallant.
Reaching across the table, she offered her hand. “I’m Emma.”
A little frisson of awareness raced up her arm when he clasped it and gave it a firm shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cliff.”
She even liked that about him. Sometimes when men shook her hand, their grip was annoyingly weak—as if they thought she might break if they clasped her hand as tightly as they would a man’s.
But Cliff’s merely fed her attraction.
Not even a flicker of recognition lit his eyes though.
Picking up her fork, she consumed another mouthful, then motioned to his tray. “You appear to be a fan of the fried rice, too.”
He chuckled as he tucked into the mound. “Yeah. The chefs here rock.”
“They really do.”
As he chewed, he studied her thoughtfully.
Emma willed herself not to feel self-conscious beneath his piercing gaze but couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
He paused to drink some tea, his strong throat working with each swallow. And those brown eyes never left hers. “You do know I’m the Cliff right?” he asked