Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(65)
“What are you talking—”
“Word of warning—he should be more careful who he hangs with at parties.”
What did he know about Brand? He’d gone off with Grant, so—
“I’ll see you soon, Sahara.” Ross quickly stepped around her and disappeared into the crowd.
Sahara put a hand to her chest to contain her thundering heart. What had spooked him?
She glanced up to search the crowd—and locked eyes with Brand. He stood across the room with a very curvy woman draped all over him. Since the woman was facing Brand, standing close and trying to get closer, Sahara couldn’t see her well.
Brand wasn’t exactly discouraging her. No, he was too busy mean-mugging Sahara.
Of all the nerve!
Fury hung around him like a cloud, as if he had the right to show his anger while he allowed some woman to nuzzle his ear?
He started toward her, and almost knocked over his admirer. As if he’d only just then remembered her, he peeled her clinging arms away and started forward again.
She clutched at him, doing her best to hold him back. Distracted, he tried to shake her off—without taking his gaze off Sahara. He literally dragged the woman a few feet before he finally shed her.
Sahara had a dozen questions lined up, but Brand didn’t give her a chance to ask any of them.
As soon as he reached her, his voice pitched low and mean, he growled, “Who the hell was that?”
Her eyes widened at his harsh words, and she saw several heads turn their way. It wasn’t easy to smile so casually. In a pleasant tone of voice, she said, “Don’t you dare cause a scene.”
“Tell me.”
She lifted a brow. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want me to go first? Fine. I don’t know and I don’t care. Your turn.”
His abrupt attitude was still drawing attention. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, Sahara lifted up to kiss his mouth and whispered, “Remove the scowl, Brand. I mean it. I work with some of these people.” When she eased back, she saw that he still looked annoyed, but no longer ready to go on a rampage. “Much better, thank you.”
His mouth moved in a very mean smile. “Start talking.”
“I take it you saw Ross Moran?”
“Who?”
She wound her arms around his neck so he couldn’t get away, and said with a careless smile, “He’s my kidnapper.”
Brand went utterly still, every muscle in his body taut and bulging as if preparing for battle.
“I’ve handled it,” she promised. “So put your hands on my waist, kiss me and as soon as the party ends, we can talk.”
Brand reached up and pulled her arms away. “This is one of those times where I’m going to be the boss, and you’re going to listen to every word.”
That he spoke so calmly reassured her. “This is a business party—”
“Party’s over. Either we walk out together, right now, like a civilized couple, or I carry you out.”
Her eyes flared. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Expression set, he reached for her—and she hastily stepped back.
A nervous giggle slipped out. Good God, she never giggled. “Brand!” she whispered. Secretly, she had to admit she liked his fierce determination to protect her.
As if he weren’t being outrageous, he asked, “Would you rather walk?”
Oh, when she got him alone, she’d set him straight.
Or maybe kiss him. It was a toss-up whether she felt amused or furious.
“Yes.” Her smile kept twitching in a bizarre way. “I prefer to walk.” She started around him, but he pulled her back, lifted her wrap around her shoulders, then anchored her to his side.
“I am not a sack of potatoes,” she complained.
“Trust me, honey, I know exactly what you are.”
He forged a path through the crowd, sparing any niceties for those they disturbed, which left Sahara to say hastily “Excuse us” and “Pardon” several times.
Once outside, she tried to extricate herself from Brand’s tight hold, but he didn’t loosen up, not even a little.
Gaze constantly scanning the area, Brand trotted her off the grand porch, down the lighted stone steps and along the walkway until she protested, saying, “I can’t keep up.”
Slowing, he glanced down at her. “It’s those heels.”
She gasped. “Don’t you dare compound this situation by insulting my shoes.”
“They’re not practical.”
They were on a direct path to the car when from around the corner of the stone wall encircling the property, Ross appeared. “I like her shoes.”
“You!” Sahara swung around to face him, dreading what conflict might now ensue. Her first thought was to block him from Brand. They didn’t need a brawl on the front lawn to enhance the scene they’d already caused.
Before she could draw another breath, she found herself tucked behind Brand.
Bemused at how quickly he’d moved, she accepted that her intent hadn’t gone quite as planned.
Peering around the blockade of tense muscle Brand provided, she saw Ross lift his hands in a supplicating way. “Call him off, Sahara.”
“Do I look like I have control of this, you ass?”