The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(35)

Nigel stopped next to me, holding a glass of whiskey on the rocks. “Is it just me, or do these make no sense?”

Definitely London. He had a nice British accent.

I studied the shiny mass of twisting metal in shades of aqua and green. “I was thinking the same thing. “I have no idea what this is supposed to be.”

“That makes me feel better.” He held out his hand. “Nigel Houghton.”

I slipped mine in his firm grip and shook. “Cameron Whitbury.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I think we’ve crossed paths once or twice, but never officially met.”

Either he was good at hiding his thoughts, or he hadn’t seen the sex tape. There was no hint of illicit recognition in his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, too. What brings you to Miami? Other than the vibrant art scene, of course.”

His eyes flicked to the side, then back to me. “I’m looking at some investment properties.”

“For a new hotel?”

“Yes. My people predict steady growth in Miami’s tourism sector and we’re looking to gain a foothold in the area.”

“Then it sounds like now is a good time for new development.”

“Absolutely.” He seemed to look past me again. “But I don’t want to bore you with the details of real estate speculation. How terribly dull of me.”

“Not at all.” I doubted anything would sound dull in that accent of his. But I felt a tickle of discomfort in my belly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be having a conversation that was even mildly flirtatious with another man.

Another man? What did that even mean? For there to be another man, there had to be a man, and I didn’t have a man in my life. Jude was watching me like a hawk because it was his job. Not because there was something between us. Just because the man had seen my boobs—and for a second had looked at me like he wanted to rip my bikini bottoms off with his teeth—didn’t mean I couldn’t have a nice conversation with a good-looking man at an art show.

“So tell me about you,” he said. There was that flick of his eyes again, but he took a subtle step closer. “You work in aerospace, do I recall that correctly?”

“Yes. Spencer Aeronautics. We started as a parts manufacturer and military contractor, but in the last several years we’ve moved toward an emphasis on rocket technology, particularly with passenger aircraft applications. And there I go being dull.”

“Not in the least.” He looked past me again and cleared his throat. “I suppose most people associate rockets with the military or defense systems. I didn’t realize there were commercial uses.”

“There definitely are; it’s very exciting. What we’re working on will revolutionize air travel.”

“Will it?”

I nodded. “Imagine a cross-Atlantic flight that only takes an hour. The aircraft exits the earth’s atmosphere, making it possible to travel at much higher speeds. It reenters and lands thousands of miles from the origin point in a fraction of the time it takes a current commercial airliner to fly the same distance.”

“That is truly fascinating,” he said, but he was barely making eye contact. He kept watching behind me, like something else was attracting his attention.

I knew exactly what it was. Or who it was. Jude.

I glanced over my shoulder. Jude was doing his best brick wall impression—if a brick wall could look menacing. His eyes were locked on Nigel, his square jaw tight. He was ten feet away and completely unmoving, yet it looked like he could pounce on Nigel in an instant.

Yep, I’d been right. World’s biggest cock blocker.

Nigel cleared his throat again. “Well, Cameron, it was lovely meeting you. There’s a courtyard full of sculpture left to baffle me.”

I smiled. “Have a nice evening.”

Nigel walked away, casting a last nervous glance at my overbearing bodyguard.

I whipped around and marched over to him. “What are you doing?”

“My job.”

“Your job doesn’t include staring down attractive British men who strike up a conversation with me at a social event.”

“I wasn’t staring him down.”

I arched an eyebrow. “No? Then why did he keep looking at you?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“Do you always have to be so intimidating?”

“Yes.”

I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath, then took a long drink of my martini. “We were just chatting. You didn’t have to scare him off.”

A tiny twitch of his eyebrows betrayed a hint of smugness. “If me standing ten feet behind you scared him, I did you a favor.”

“Why? Because he’d lose to you in a who’s the bigger caveman contest?”

“Yes.”

God, he was infuriating. Even more infuriating was that little voice in my head that said he was right.

“I hired you to keep me safe, not screen my potential dates.”

“Would you actually date that guy?” There was an edge to his voice that stood out in contrast to the stoic brick wall thing he was doing tonight. “And didn’t you say something about not dating again?”

“That’s beside the point. Maybe he would have changed my mind.”