Grace Under Fire (Buchanan-Renard 14)

“I’ll go first,” Jones said. “Isabel, you’re right behind me, and Michael, you protect her back. Okay, let’s move. Fast.”

The men’s long-legged strides were difficult for Isabel to keep up with, but Michael put his hands on her waist and all but lifted her through the door Jones held open. Fans screaming for attention were gaining on them. The car was right there waiting for them, and they were on their way seconds later.

Isabel sat in the backseat with Michael. “How do you know Mr. Jones?” she asked.

“Just Jones,” the bodyguard corrected, looking over his shoulder. “Michael introduced himself on his way into the ballroom.”

“I feel guilty I ran from those kids. I should have talked to them. There were just so many of them...”

“A crowd can soon become a mob, Isabel,” Jones said. “And they could swallow you up.”

“Yes, I know.”

The rest of the ride back to the Hamilton was quiet. Isabel used the time to gather her thoughts. Michael showing up had certainly been a shock. She was so happy to see him, and yet she couldn’t wait to shout at him for being thoughtless and insensitive. How could he ignore her for such a long time? Four weeks and six days? Come on. She had been miserable and wondered if he had given her a single thought in all that while.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked up at him. Would she ever get used to him?

“Where are you staying tonight?” She whispered the question so Jones and the driver, Conrad, wouldn’t hear.

Michael didn’t whisper his answer. “With you, Isabel. I left my bag with the bell captain.”

She didn’t argue. She wanted him to stay with her. She had quite a lot to say to him, and when she was finished, he damn well better promise never to put her through this misery again.

She refused to think about the bizarre conversation Michael had had with Damon, fearing none of what she had heard had been true.

At the hotel Michael picked up his bag and followed Isabel up to her suite. He locked the door, dropped his bag on the floor, and as he was removing his suit jacket and tie, he slowly walked toward her.

Isabel was loaded for bear. Planted firmly in the middle of the room with her arms folded across her waist, she was ready to let him have it for making her wait so long. When she had said everything she wanted to say—and God only knew how long that was going to take, for she had quite a bit of anger saved up inside of her—she would calmly explain her expectations.

“Four weeks and...”

Michael had unbuttoned his shirt and was removing it, breaking her concentration. He had such a fine body. How could she not take the time to appreciate it?

“What are you doing?”

“Getting naked.”

She could barely catch her breath. It was his seductive smile. The man mesmerized her. Nothing new about that.

She mentally shook herself. “Oh no, you’re going to listen to me. Four weeks and... ,” she began again.

“I love you, Isabel.”

He didn’t fight fair, she decided, a scant second before his mouth covered hers. Holding her tight against him, he said again, “I love you... even when you make me nuts.” He pulled back, put his hands on her shoulders, and stared into her eyes. “Tell me you love me,” he demanded. “I know you do, but I need to hear you say it.”

She didn’t make him wait. “I love you, Michael.”

Neither could say who reached the bed first. It had been such a long time since they had been together. Their lovemaking was uninhibited and... magnificent.

Michael wanted to take her with him to shower, and after a couple of kisses she was more than willing. By the time the last of the soapy lather had swirled down the drain, there wasn’t a spot on his body she hadn’t kissed or caressed, and he was even more thorough with her.

Later, Michael entered the bedroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Isabel was already in bed and he smiled when he saw her in glasses. “I noticed you wearing them at the party. You looked damned hot.”

She removed her glasses. “And now?”

Dropping the towel on the floor and sliding under the sheet, he grinned. “Still damned hot.”

She was about to roll into his arms when he asked, “Why didn’t you call me?”