Page 89 of Long Shot

He narrows his eyes at me. “Yeah?”

“Sure!”

“He had his hands on you. He was kissing you.”

“On the cheek.” I glare at him. “Jesus, Cade.”

Anger flows off him in waves. “You didn’t need to let him do that. You didn’t need to talk to him.”

“He’s a guest.”

“I can kick him out.”

“Cade. Don’t be ridiculous.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Ridiculous?” He lifts one eyebrow.

I shake my head. “He’s an important guest. Can’t you tell how the place is buzzing because he’s here? Everyone knows who he is.”

Cade shoots Graham a narrow-eyed look. “I don’t give a shit.”

I draw in a long breath, seeking patience. “I don’t have time for this. I have to get back to work. Things are crazy tonight.”

I debate telling him about my breakfast meeting with Graham and his proposition and decide against it. He’s riled up enough.

“Yeah. They are.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, biceps bulging, and frowns.

“You should be happy things are busy!”

“I am happy.” The scowl on his face says otherwise.

I sigh and shake my head. I start past him, then stop. “You’re not going to kick him out, are you?”

His lips thin. “They’re done eating. Hopefully they’ll be gone soon.”

Crap. Why is he so pissed? Sure, Graham hugged me and kissed my cheek, but he’s nobody to me. Not anymore. It’s like Cade is jealous.

He shouldn’t be jealous. Same as I shouldn’t have been jealous when Nerissa came to paint night. Neither of us has any claim on the other and our relationship is not one that gives us any right to be jealous.

Things are getting too serious. The depth of my feelings for Cade is starting to scare me, and I’m painfully afraid that his feelings for me are growing, too. That will make it so much harder to end things when the time comes.

And when will that be? I’ve always figured someday I’ll go back to New York. I needed to get away, to have some time to heal and deal with the guilt and sadness that swamped me after the shooting. Lately I’ve been more at peace. Happier. Content. I’m having fun changing things up here at Conquistadors. It’s a professional challenge, even though as Graham noted, I’m somewhat limited in what I can do here. I enjoy the sun and the beach and the people. But this isn’t my home. This is like an extended beach vacation that has to end at some point.

I spend the rest of the evening focusing on the food, trying to put Graham’s surprise appearance and Cade’s unreasonable jealousy out of my head. The busy pace helps, as well as Paul dropping a huge container of salsa that shoots up in the air and spatters all over the floor along with me and Jenn, which means a big clean-up job and an urgent rush to prepare more, while cursing under my breath. And my paring knife is missing, goddammit.

19

REESE

I drive to The Palms the next morning, parking around the corner on a side street. The elegant hotel is across the street from the beach, and I walk through the cool, tiled lobby to the restaurant. The big Christmas tree in the corner glitters with red, green, and gold ornaments. Christmas in California still seems so weird to me—lights and decorations on palm trees, big artificial trees with colorful ornaments and lights, fake Santas when there’s bright sunshine and no snow whatsoever.

I spot Graham already here, with the same man and woman he had dinner with last night.

He again rises and greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. “Good morning, Reese. Have a seat.” He holds the fourth chair at the square table for me and I sit, hanging my purse over the back of the chair. “Coffee?”

“Yes, I’d love some.”

He picks up the thermos on the table and pours coffee into the cup at my place setting. “Still drink it black?”

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