Jonah (Chicago Blaze 7)

“Sure, I can show you.” At least with Kai’s help I could.

Not only can I not show her, I can’t even do a cat eye on myself. I’m hoping I won’t end up having to talk my way out of it.

“Liquid eyeliner is the worst,” Allie says. “I always end up looking like a little kid who broke into my mom’s makeup drawer when I put it on.”

Mia is busy pouring champagne into glass flutes. She generously fills each one and then passes it to an outstretched hand.

“To a night out,” she says, grinning and holding up her glass.

“Hear, hear,” Abby says as everyone clinks glasses and takes a drink.

Anton cringes and sets his glass down. “That’s shit, babe.”

“Get over it,” she says, kissing him.

Mia has several bottles of champagne on ice, and she keeps everyone’s glass full. I’m glad I ate a little food before this, even though I’m trying not to drink too much.

“Remind me what this event is for,” I murmur in Jonah’s ear.

“It’s a fundraiser for a charity that raises money to build houses for wounded veterans. There’s a former Blaze player, Harry Stone, who started it.

“That reminds me, I need to pay someone for our tickets,” Easy says.

Luca shakes his head and says, “We bought the table. Just buy something from the auction.”

“Thanks, man,” Easy says.

Jonah has told me before that Luca and Abby are beyond wealthy through the success of Abby’s home furnishings business. My instinct tells me that they’re the kind of people Darren Shields will gravitate toward, if he’s at the event tonight.

When we arrive, it feels like a Hollywood movie premiere. There’s a red carpet, outfitted with photographers on both sides, flashes from their cameras blinding me where I stand. Jonah locks an arm around my waist, which I’m grateful for when I stumble in my heels and lean on him for support.

“Good champagne?” he quips.

“It’s these damn heels.”

“I’m sure it is.” He winks and I can’t help smiling.

I’ve never been a woman who glows when her man looks at her, but with Jonah, it’s more than just an act. His eyes are the swirling gray blue of a sky just before a storm, and I was so wrong to think those eyes are pretty. They’re intense, darkening when he feels conflicted or guilty. The storm inside him still rages, and it has since the day his wife died.

He’s attracted to me. I feel how much he wants me when we kiss sometimes, and I can see that he yearns for more when he holds me close longer than he intends to sometimes.

I’m trained to read people—body language, words, nonverbal cues. I can even decipher things from someone’s laughter. And while I know Jonah wants me, I don’t know if it’s just physical, or something more. And I don’t know if he wants to act on the attraction, or if the guilt would overwhelm him if we do.

The event is being held in the ballroom of a downtown hotel, lavishly decorated with topiaries enrobed in twinkle lights, dinner tables laden with ornate glassware and place settings, and a large dance floor with a string quartet. Not to mention the magnificent art being displayed on easels and stands, which will be sold in tonight’s silent auction.

Jonah leads me toward our table, stopping partway there to lean down and kiss my neck. My lips part as his mouth meets my skin, making my stomach flip with excitement.

“He’s here,” Jonah whispers in my ear, nipping at my earlobe.

I almost laugh. Here I am, reveling in his touch like a giddy woman in love, while he’s already spotted Shields. I have to stop fangirling over Jonah and focus on the reason I’m here.

It takes me a few seconds to casually locate Shields. He’s standing in a small group of men, all of them laughing. Fucking scumbag. I wonder if those guys know their friend traffics children.

I lock eyes with Jonah and hope he reads my unspoken message. Follow my lead.

“Want to look at the auction stuff?” I ask him.

“Yeah, sure.”

He takes my hand, and I give a little tug toward the side of the room where Shields is standing. Jonah leads the way over there, both of us pretending we’re heading toward a painting on display.

“That would look amazing on the wall in your living room,” I say. “The empty one.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. And I need to buy something here to make a donation. Might as well make it quick and easy.”

I shake my head and laugh at what a man he is.

“Renee?” Shields reaches out as we pass and touches my arm.

I turn and pretend I’m just recognizing him, breaking into a smile. “Darren, right?”

“Yes. Great to see you again.”

Taking Jonah’s arm, I say, “Babe, this is Darren Shields. Remember me telling you how I got lost at the game and he walked me back to the right VIP box?”