No in Between (Inside Out #4)(51)

Mischief fills his eyes. “That’s twice you’ve said that tonight.” My cheeks heat and he laughs. “I’m planning on making it three before the night is over.”

I give him a scolding look and reach for the sketch pad. “Stop teasing me. I want to see the design.”

“Hold on.” He turns a page and then allows me to see the sketch. I blink down at the ridiculously large round stone surrounded by an elegant design, momentarily mesmerized by his gift for detail. But as I study the wide band, I blink again and tell myself I’m not seeing what I think I am. Yet it is. He’s designed a delicately woven vine of roses, and now that I look closer at the stone, it too, is a rose.

Shocked, my gaze lifts to Chris’s, but my questions fade when I see a rare anxious uncertainty in his eyes. He has no idea that this is a connection to Rebecca; he’d refused to read the journals and I’ve never talked about the roses. This means something else to him—something special I don’t want to ruin.

He strokes my cheek. “If you don’t like it—”

I smile tenderly. “I love it. I absolutely love it.”

His brows knit. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” I want to ask him what inspired the roses, but he sets the pad aside and lowers me to the bed, his big, wonderful body covering mine. A moment later he is kissing me. Another moment later and his hand is traveling to my waist, my breasts, and my neck.

I don’t care about the roses. I care about the man who created a masterpiece for me.





Fifteen



It’s nearly dawn when I fall asleep in Chris’s arms, but I awaken instantly with the alarm and reach for the remote to tune in to the news. Chris quickly removes it from my hand and drags me to the shower, where he successfully distracts me from my worries about the bail hearing.

But an hour later I’m a ball of nerves again, and I begin pacing under the awning of our apartment building while we wait for our car to be pulled around, somehow managing to trip over my own feet. Tumbling forward, I’m thankfully saved as Chris shackles my waist and steadies me. “Stop fretting or I’m going to turn you over my knee.”

I gape. “What?”

He laughs, a deep, sexy rumble. “That’s the amazing thing about a spanking,” he says, his voice a naughty whisper near my ear. “Just the threat makes you forget everything else.”

I glower fiercely at him. “That’s not funny.”

“No.” His hand slides under my trench coat, fingers flexing on my hip. “It’s a lot of things, baby, but funny isn’t one of them.”

The car pulls up behind us. “You really are—”

“Mr. Merit,” the attendant announces.

Chris arches a brow, focused on me. “I really am what?”

Sexy. Amazing. “Bad.”

He laughs again, wrapping his arm around my neck, and the sound is a balm soothing my nerve endings. “Let’s go get this day over with so I can show you just how bad.” He holds the door for me and I’ve already slipped back into stress mode, reaching for the radio to try and find the news.

“I hope David told Tiger that Ricco accused Mark of setting him up,” I say as Chris claims the driver’s seat. “Your call with him was too short to say much.”

“I didn’t,” he says. “I have no idea what David told him, but we can confirm what Mark knows when we get to the gallery.”

“I can’t believe he’ll be in. Not after he pretty much told me he doesn’t want to see me again.”

Chris shifts into gear. “He’ll be in. He has to be in the eye of the storm; that’s his control. And just to be clear, the only reason I’m letting you near him, after his confession yesterday about you and Rebecca, is because I’m going to be your personal bodyguard.”

“So you said when you picked out my outfit today,” I comment of the high-necked, knee-length basic black dress. “And I’m not complaining about having you around today, considering everything going on, but you also need to be clear: I don’t need a bodyguard to protect me from Mark. I can handle him.”

“You have a big heart. Even Amber managed to get to you. It gets you into trouble.”

“I’d like to argue, but I try to fight battles I can win.”

Chris pulls into the alley leading to the newly fenced parking lot, keying in an entry code, and I’m surprised at the absence of press. “No Mark,” I say, as we park, noting the absence of his Jag. “I only see Ralph’s car, and what looks like the security crew.”

“Anything happening we should know about?” Chris asks Jacob as he opens the back door for us, obviously alerted to our presence by the gate entry.

“Nothing beyond Blake and Kelvin are at the courthouse, and it’s a media madhouse. Blake’s keeping me apprised. I’ll let you know as I get updates.”

Chris nods and we make our way to the office where, judging from the sound of Ralph swiftly keying his calculator, he’s already hard at work. Amanda is nowhere to be found. “I’d say good morning, but it’s not,” Ralph calls out. “Coffee is made and no, she hasn’t called.” He never stops keying.

I hang my coat on the rack behind Amanda’s desk, while Chris shrugs out of his leather jacket and does the same. “Don’t read into this,” he warns, and when I’m momentarily, impossibly under the circumstances, distracted by his hotness in faded True Religion jeans and a light blue “Matchbox 20” T-shirt, I decide every girl needs a man who can distract her this easily under this kind of stress.