Dropping The Ball - A New Year’s Billionaire Romance - Weston Parker Page 0,32

fucking right that even I forgot it wasn’t real for a second.

Man, I’m so damn screwed.

Chapter 12

RYLEE

If Jules wasn’t married, I’d have declared him smitten with Carter within the first ten minutes of them meeting. And he wasn’t the only one.

There was so much more to this guy than I’d thought. Jules and I both hung on his every word and I, for one, spent most of lunch staring at his lips and imagining them on my own. This is going to be a problem.

Especially since it wasn’t only a one-sided thing. I’d asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend, but he slipped into the role so seamlessly and so brilliantly that he deserved a freaking Oscar.

As soon as we’d left my building, he’d flipped a switch from bodyguard to boyfriend without any hesitation at all. Our conversation on the way to the restaurant might’ve been serious, but we’d walked so close together that our arms touched all the time. He did small things like brush the backs of my fingers with his or gently bumping my shoulder so damn naturally I was starting to think he was in the wrong profession.

He’d have made a damn fine actor. In more ways than one.

In that leather jacket and the faded jeans with the motorcycle boots, he looked so damn fine that I wanted to write a freaking song about it. And I wasn’t even a songwriter, but if anyone could get those creative—and other—juices flowing, it was him.

“Have you noticed any fans around more than others?” he asked Jules when I finally managed to stop ogling him.

“Not really, but I also can’t say for certain that there haven’t been any.” Jules frowned. “There are some regulars that we see often, but there are always plenty of people around.”

A group of twenty-somethings walked into the restaurant, and I suddenly felt Carter’s fingers playing along on my thigh. He set my skin on fire with those small touches even though there was a thick layer of denim between us.

All the blood and moisture in my body rushed south, but when I glanced sideways to look at Carter, he didn’t seem affected at all. I squeezed my legs together in what I thought was a discreet move, but I saw the slightest flare of his nostrils when he noticed it.

Wow. This guy really doesn’t miss anything.

He moved his hand up and slung his arm over the back of my chair, scooting a bit closer to me. “Do you recognize any of those people? There was a woman with them outside, but she didn’t come in.”

Scratch that. He doesn’t only not miss anything. Apparently, he even has eyes in the back of his head.

Turning as if I was about to bury my head in his shoulder to whisper something private, I shot a look at the group who had just been seated before giving my attention back to Carter. “Nope. I’ve never seen any of them before.”

Jules watched the whispered exchange between us with curious eyes, then flicked his gaze toward the group when Carter inclined his head in their direction. “Have you seen any of them before?”

His eyes narrowed slightly before he shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Good.” Relaxing at my side, he moved farther away again and removed his arm. “We need to focus on the people around us from now on. If either of you notice anyone, let me know right away.”

“We can do that,” Jules promised while I reeled from how fast I’d reacted and how much I wanted him to touch me again. “I’m glad she’s got you around now. The longer she’s been out, the more disturbing and descriptive the threats have become.”

“Why didn’t you hire someone before?” he asked, his tone conversational and not confrontational. “It seems like you’ve been dealing with these threats for a while.”

“It feels like someone’s ramping up their efforts.” Jules screwed his eyes shut. “We used to only receive one threatening letter every few months or so after we announced Rylee’s break. More recently, it became a letter every month and now we’re receiving one or more a week.”

“Do you think it’s just one person?” he asked.

Jules took a deep breath and lifted both shoulders. “We just don’t know. Bart suggested we send him all the letters we’ve got. He’s going to have someone analyze them to see if they can answer that question.”

“I used to do a fair amount of the analysis,” Carter said, surprising me. “John took over