Page 112 of Sweet Temptation

“Love you right back. Show Toronto how it’s done on the west coast.”

“Oh, you know I will.”

When I was off the phone, I grabbed my purse and the smallest of my overnight bags, then headed downstairs. Ronan was waiting at the front door, moto jacket on, looking all stoic and badass—and ready for anything. Except, of course, fraternizing with his client.

Because, you know, that would be improper and all.

His gaze immediately skimmed down my body, though. Because apparently he was still allowed to check me out.

Pussy tease.

“You have more bags?”

“Two more,” I said, setting my bag down. “They’re up in—”

He was already heading down the hall to my room, so I didn’t bother finishing that sentence. I slipped on my coat. And when he returned, carrying my two rolling suitcases like they weighed nothing, and also picked up the bag I’d set down… my body responded in some deeply improper ways.

He then opened the door for me, too.

“Thank you,” I said.

He met my eyes and nodded.

I stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the crisp October air. I watched him take my bags to the waiting taxi. Then he went back inside to “Check that everything’s locked down.”

I pulled out my phone and texted Elle.

Me: He’s carrying my bags now. Maybe I should stash a bunch of panties in my purse?

Elle: I’ll have extras sent to your hotel.

* * *

Andre met us at the airport with his usual easygoing smile. Totally different vibe than his boss.

He grabbed my bags from the taxi before Ronan could, so at least my lady hormones got a break for a moment.

Takeoff was smooth and pretty close to on-time. Ronan was sitting next to me, on the other side of the tiny table between us, silent. He seemed a little extra stony today, and I wasn’t sure why.

Because of last night, maybe?

We’d just leveled off at high altitude and the seatbelt sign went off. I dug out my phone and earbuds, planning to listen to some music and try to tune out his silent, broody sexiness, when he said, “The restraining order came through.”

I stared at him. “It did?”

“They’ll be sending it to you. I already have a copy.” He opened a document on his phone and showed it to me. “I can walk you through it now, if you’d like.”

“Yes. Please.”

“It’s a twelve-month bond. Sanchuk accepted the terms we requested. It’s all pretty standard. No contact with you, directly or indirectly. That includes anything at all, like messages through other people. He can’t try to reach you in any way.” He scrolled a bit though the document. “He’s not to come within one-hundred meters of your residence or place of employment. That includes anywhere you’re scheduled to appear at a gig or event. He can’t possess firearms or other weapons, or use drugs or alcohol—”

“You think he’ll stick to all that?” I interrupted. I’d talked through the whole thing with the police officer who was working on my file, days ago, so I knew what we’d requested. It was basically what Brody’s lawyers advised us to request.

But I still wasn’t sure.

For all I knew Blair was a meth addict, and he’d be stumbling onto my property again the next time he got high.

“He has to. Disobeying this a criminal offense. He could be convicted and do time for that.” Ronan met my eyes. “This is the best protection you’ll get from the legal system right now.”

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