Take It Down. Kira Sinclair
to grumble as Marcy disappeared and he waited for Tom to arrive. Now that he’d been booted, he could admit that his eyes were starting to sting from watching the grainy screen for hours.
He scanned all six of the monitors, taking in the normal vista of swaying palm trees, necking couples, and water lapping against sand. Until his gaze returned to the picture of Giselle Monroe. As he watched, yet another guy drunk with rum-soaked bravado sat on the bar stool beside her. Zane could see the man’s mouth moving.
Giselle flicked her gaze to the guy for no more than half a breath before dismissing him again. She didn’t even bother wasting words, simply shook her head in response to whatever the young buck had asked her.
Zane almost felt sorry for the guy as he stood from the bar and walked back to the cluster of his friends, to be razed for the rest of the night, Zane had no doubt.
She’d been doing that all evening. What kind of woman came to a singles resort specifically designed to facilitate vacation flings and then turned down every man who made a pass at her?
One who wasn’t here for a hookup, obviously. So what was she here for? The question he desperately wanted an answer to burned inside his chest.
The lock clicked behind him, signaling that Tom had arrived to relieve him from the Nest.
Zane quickly made a decision. What could it hurt if he stopped at the bar himself just to check on things? After all, it was his job to make sure all ran smoothly.
DAMN, SHE WAS TIRED OF fending off drunk men. If one more guy came up to her with some lame pickup line and an offer to “fulfill all her fantasies” she was going to knock someone’s block off.
All around her, desperate women in skintight clothing, inch-thick makeup and sky-high heels giggled and hair tossed. Pathetic.
She could feel the presence of another male as he slid onto the empty stool beside her. It had been vacant most of the night. And that’s how she preferred it.
Without turning around, she said, “Don’t bother. I’m not interested. Try the blonde at the other end of the bar.”
That one was definitely looking for a quick lay…probably with more than one man. Possibly at one time.
“Does that mean you won’t accept my apology drink?”
Her head whipped around. The dark voice slipped down her spine as if he’d dropped an ice cube straight from the drink in front of him down her exposed nape.
He still had on the same clothes—dark black jeans and a tight black T-shirt—but somehow he looked more laid-back than he had before. Maybe it was just the change in scenery. Everything looked laid-back with a thatched roof over your head and a fruity drink in your hand. As opposed to adorned with handcuffs inside a utility closet.
“No, thank you.”
Her voice was tighter than she’d meant it to be. He was making a peace offering, after all. But it was hard to take the gesture at face value. He was up to something and she wouldn’t put it past the hard-ass she’d met earlier today to slip something into her drink. Like truth serum.
Elle deliberately turned her head away, presenting him with her back, as she’d done with every other man who’d sat beside her tonight. Unlike the rest of them, Officer Zane settled into the chair anyway, throwing his arm over the rounded edge of the back and signaling to the bartender. Magically another of the frothy pink concoctions she’d been drinking all night appeared at her elbow.
She frowned, throwing a daggered look over her shoulder. “You don’t take no very well, do you?”
“Not usually. And you don’t mingle very well.” He threw a hand out behind them, gesturing to the crowd of rowdy twenty- and thirty-something singles laughing and having a good time.
“Maybe I just don’t feel like chatting right now.”
“What kind of woman comes to a resort that specializes in providing fertile hunting grounds for prowling singles, and doesn’t bother to actually prowl?”
A flush of anger and embarrassment suffused her skin and, before she could stop herself, she swung around in her chair to fully face him.
“I don’t know. The kind who had her hands unjustly handcuffed to a chair a few hours ago. Let’s just say, I’m not exactly in a partying mood.”
“Oh, we both know my actions were justified.”
“So much for that apology.”
He shrugged. “I tried.”
“Let me guess, the mystery man made you do this. I bet it galls the hell out of you that he believes me.”
Elle’s gaze strayed to his lips as they twisted momentarily into a grimace. There was something enticing about the expression, about the way his upper lip was slightly larger than the bottom and the corners pulled down even when he wasn’t frowning. Which, from what she’d seen, wasn’t very often.
“Jeez, you guys are all the same.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“The minute they tell you they don’t need you on the force anymore—you’re too old, you’re injured, you made some bonehead mistake—you all turn mean and nasty. Can’t stand to sit with your hands under your ass, useless and restless.”
He raised a single eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“So, what was it? My guess is you got shot, because you’re way too young to be benched at a desk, and despite the fact that you’re acting outside of orders at the moment, you’re too by the book for a bonehead mistake.”
She regretted the words almost the minute they left her mouth. She looked into his eyes and saw the pain lurking there, deep in the back. She’d hit her mark, all right and injured an already wounded man.
She didn’t want to feel guilty, not about hurting the good officer. But she couldn’t help it. She’d grown up around guys exactly like him. They were all tough as nails. Until they weren’t.
“I’m sorry.” The words were low as they left her lips. Part of her hoped the loud music and laughing crowd would drown them out. The other part knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight because of the guilt if he didn’t hear them.
“I’m sorry,” she said louder.
His eyes cut across at her from beneath smoky lashes. “I heard you the first time.”
Elle sighed. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure.”
“Not your fault.”
“Maybe.” Picking up the glass in front of her, she threw it back and let the semimelted rum-soaked ice fill her mouth.
“You wanna make it up to me? Tell me what you were really doing this afternoon.”
She wasn’t feeling that guilty.
“I already told you.”
“And we both know that was a lie.”
This time, it was her turn to shrug.
“Then I guess you’re just going to have to add this to your long list of disappointments.”
Elle pushed up from the bar, ignoring the way it spun lazily around her. She wobbled on her low-slung heels for a moment before the world finally righted itself.
“Are you okay?”
Before she could blink, Zane was standing beside her, his hand wrapped around her elbow again. The moment felt like déjà vu in a not very pleasant way.
Jerking her arm out of his grasp, she said, “I’m fine.”
So the—one, two, four, five? Dang, she’d had more than she’d realized—fluffy drinks that had seemed rather harmless while sitting down had gone to her head. She had only a short walk to the main