Savannah felt heat rise in her. Why didn’t she find the things Blake said creepy? Why did they seem to excite her so much?
“Right,” she said. “Take me shopping then, henchman.”
“Watch it, young lady,” he replied. “Or I’ll . . . forget it. Let’s go.”
Forget it?Had he just been about to threaten to spank her ass? It sure sounded like it. And the thought of it made her shiver inexplicably with excitement.
***
Savannah checked she wasn’t popping out of her dress for the millionth time.
Blake hadn’t just driven her to the mall this afternoon. He’d also helped her pick out a sexy little black minidress that showed off her bosom, as well as all the freckles on her chest, which she usually tried to hide with t-shirts and sweaters. She’d noticed his eyes fixed on that area of her body several times on the way over here, and she couldn't help but wonder what he thought.
"Listen, Savannah," Blake said, his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "I need to know exactly what happened the last time you were at this club. Why do you need my protection tonight?"
"Does it matter?" she retorted, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "You're here to help me, not interrogate me."
"Dammit," he growled. "This isn't a game, Miss Sweet. Tell me or I'm out."
"Fine," she snapped, her emerald eyes blazing. "I got caught snooping around last time. Happy now?"
"Far from it," he muttered darkly, his gaze never leaving hers. "If they recognize you, we could be in serious trouble."
"Then I'll just have to make sure they don't," she replied, her voice thick with determination. "I'm not backing down, Blake. Not when I'm this close to uncovering the truth."
“You’ve got one of those faces, though,” said Blake.
“What faces?” she shot back angrily. “Ugly and freckled?”
Blake’s eyes widened. “What? No, of course not. Memorable. You have a memorable face.”
“Good memorable or bad memorable?” asked Savannah, annoyed that she even cared.
“Very good to me,” replied Blake. “But then I’m a sucker for freckles like yours. Kinda like your skin has been splashed with stars.”
Stars.
Why did that stir some kind of memory deep within her?
Someone else had described her freckles like that once. It’s the reason she felt so connected to the night sky. The reason she felt like the stars were her protectors, looking down on her from above.
“Anyway,” she muttered, trying to focus. “I bought a wig for tonight.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a shiny blonde wig, cut into a razor-sharp bob. She put it on, pushing all her stray red hairs under it and adjusting her new bangs, and turned to Blake. “Ta da!”
"Jesus, babygirl," he grumbled, running a hand through his short, dark hair. "You look a lot better as a redhead.”
She smirked. “I thought you’d be the type of guy who went for blondes.”
Blake didn’t take the bait. “You stick to me like glue, you understand? If anything feels off, we get out of there. No questions, no arguments."
"Fine," she agreed begrudgingly.
As they approached the entrance to the club, Savannah felt a thrill of excitement course through her veins. She knew the riskswere high, but nothing could stop her now—not even her own fears.
“This is it,” she said quietly as they reached the door.
“Hold my hand,” Blake instructed her.
“Seriously?” Savannah asked.