Gentleman Sinner(24)

Theo is here. In fucking Vegas. What, when, who, and why the fuck? Suddenly maddened by it all, I toss my head up and my hair back, and stand. Theo is on his feet even quicker, and now a few steps away from me. It’s a fight and a half to remain steady, even more so as my eyes take in every inch of him – beige chinos and a white casual shirt tucked in, collar open. More of the tattoo on his neck is visible because of the few unfastened buttons. Black shadows, all linked, and I find my eyes root there.

Until he coughs and nudges me back to life. ‘What in the name of God are you wearing?’ he blurts, his wide eyes fixed on my chest. I see in his face a deadly beauty that could quite possibly be the death of me. The sun is creating a halo around his head, making it glow magnificently. Like a god’s.

My anger of a moment ago deserts me, rendering me a wobbly woman, and I feel myself tilting forward, coming closer to Theo, my hand shooting up to save me before I face-plant in his chest.

‘Is she drunk?’ he asks, catching my hands in one of his and laying them on his chest. He’s evidently concerned as he holds them in place, his other hand slipping around my waist. I might be in a state of deep shock, but he’s vibrating against me, and I haven’t the brain power to consider whether that’s anger or because of our contact.

‘No, she’s disturbed.’ Jess laughs. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘She looks drunk,’ Theo mutters, ignoring Jess’s question and hauling me into his chest. I crash against him . . . and melt into the sharp planes of his muscles. It feels too good. ‘Izzy,’ Theo growls, annoyed. ‘For God’s sake, will you look at me?’ He grabs my jaw and pulls my blank face up to him. I’m totally out of it. Maybe it’s shock. Maybe it’s fright. Or maybe those drinks were stronger than I realized. I can’t be sure.

I battle to find a little composure. ‘What . . . Why . . . How did . . .?’ I stammer, unable to ignore how good he feels against me.

His face softens, and relief definitely flows across his features. ‘Are you okay?’

Is he joking? The gravity of it all seems to steamroll forward, and I engage my muscles to push myself off of his chest. Once again, he moves me before I can move myself, taking my wrists and separating our bodies, stepping back. I frown at him, wondering how the hell he knows every move I’m going to make before I make it. He slips his shades on, stealing away the sight of his intense cobalt eyes, and I glance at Jess. There’s apprehension and maybe even a little hidden awe splashed across her face. ‘You came to Vegas to find me?’ I ask Theo incredulously.

‘Actually, no, I came to Vegas because I have some business to see to.’

‘What?’

‘You heard me.’

‘What business?’ What does he do, anyway?

‘It’s none of your business.’

‘Excuse me?’ I’m insulted, and it’s obvious. ‘You turn up here out of the blue, and you’re telling me it’s not—’

‘Hey! It’s the British girls!’ The greeting doesn’t have time to register in my mind. Someone grabs me around the waist from behind and I startle, flying forward away from the touch, my heart jumping into my throat. ‘Shit, didn’t mean to scare you,’ Denny says, holding his hands up in apology when I turn his way.

‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur, embarrassed, as Jess reaches for me and rubs my arm gently, seeing how mortified I am. I shake my head in despair as Denny and Kyle gleam at us, their bare chests slick with tanning oil, their board shorts low on their hips. When neither Jess nor I returns their smiles, they spend a few moments assessing the scene, both taken aback when they notice Theo, who’s moved a few steps away. ‘Whoa.’ Denny laughs, seeing the mountain of man before him and realizing he’s with us. I mentally rewind. No, Theo’s not with us. He’s gate-crashing.

I smile awkwardly, looking to my friend for help. She shrugs. She’s lost, too. Theo moves in closer to me, definitely possessive. I don’t know if I should be angered or appreciative. But I do know that I need to break this uncomfortable atmosphere. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I tell Jess as the waiter arrives with our drinks.

She takes them but shakes her head discreetly, flicking a look at Theo, who has now removed his shades and has a death stare rooted on the two American guys we met last night. Denny’s hand lifts, reaching for Theo’s bicep. ‘Hey, man,’ he says, but his intended friendly gesture of a light smack to Theo’s arm is dodged stealthily, Theo virtually bending backward to avoid it. Denny’s eyes widen at the fast move, and he steps back. And Theo’s death stare intensifies. ‘Sorry, man,’ Denny says, nervous as shit. ‘Just a friendly hello.’

‘Then say it,’ Theo growls. ‘Don’t touch me.’

I recoil at his rudeness, as does everyone else in the group. This is horrible. I dip to get in Theo’s field of vision. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Yes,’ he grates and indicates some tables and chairs set back from the pool. ‘I’ll get drinks.’ He starts to head off, but pulls to a stop, giving each of my friends a moment of his eyes before looking at me. ‘And please, cover yourself up.’ He carries on his way.

Jess’s mouth drops and hits the rim of her plastic beaker. ‘Is he serious?’

I ignore her rhetorical question and slip my caftan over my head, not because I’m obeying him, but because I feel exposed enough without being half-naked in his presence. ‘See you in a sec.’ I walk away from Jess, hearing whispered questions as I go. I have a serious mental pep talk going on in my head, but as I get closer to the table at the far back that Theo has chosen for our talk, the sound of my determined, sensible voice gets drowned out by his growing closeness. I’m in trouble. So much fucking trouble.