Page 50 of Home Coming

“Always a master of understatement.” Xander chuckled. “So, I was thinking…”

“Always dangerous,” she quipped.

“It’s about time you released a second song,” Xander continued.

“Another one?”

“Strike while the iron is hot. Maybe a nice love song about a certain tall, dark and dangerous bodyguard…”

Afraid he might be able to hear Xander through the cell pressed against her ear, she shot a glance at Quinn.

His expression remained passive. That didn’t help the situation with Xander and his unrealistic expectations of both her song writing ability and her relationship with Quinn.

“I—I couldn’t,” she protested

“I’m sure you could if you tried. Just think about it, okay? Texting that hotel address to you now. Get some rest. And don’t stress your voice. Gonna be an early morning tomorrow and you have to sing.” Xander disconnected the call before she could argue with anything he said—one of his favorite tricks. Although, as promised, the address for the hotel came through in a text.

Fine. He could think he was getting his way just because he got the last word in but it didn’t mean she was going to do anything he said.

Meanwhile, Quinn had finished his burger and was leaning back in his chair, watching her. He pushed his plate, which still contained a mound of fries, forward. “Go on. Eat. I remember how much you love fries.”

He remembered that?

Her cheeks heated. How many times had she stuffed her face in front of him as a kid? And now she was pretending she wanted the dumb salad in front of her.

Screw it. Reaching out, she grabbed a fry. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Finish them. I’m good.”

She just might finish them. She needed some comfort food. And it wasn’t like Quinn would be seeing her naked anytime soon. Make that nakedagain, she amended as scenes from their embarrassing reunion ran through her head.

Nope. Quinn was just what Xander had said he was—her tall, dark and dangerously sexy bodyguard. Nothing more—it didn’t matter how many fans thought otherwise.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Quinn stepped through the doorway of the top floor suite first and glanced around the living and dining area.

“Wow.” He let out a long low whistle then moved aside for Bailey to come inside.

Her eyes widened as she saw the space. She might make inconceivable amounts of money to post TikToks or whatever, but judging by her reaction she wasn’t any more used to accommodations like this than he was.

He dropped the bags he’d carried in, double locked the door, then headed for the two bedrooms and two bathrooms.

This place was more than double the size of his housing on base. Hell, it felt almost as big as his parents’ house and a hell of a lot fancier. Right down to a bidet in the one bathroom. He wouldn’t even know how to use one of those. Out of curiosity he was going to have to google and find out.

He was just about to suggest they check out the room service menu to see what they could order later—on the studio’s tab, of course—when his cell rang.

Glancing down, he raised a brow when Josie’s name and picture appeared.

“Calling instead of texting. This must be dire. What? Did Bailey and I fail to reply to a text in a timely manner?” he asked with as much attitude as he could muster.

“You and Bailey checked into a hotel room together?” Josie squealed.

“Jeezus.” Shaking is head, Quinn blew out a breath.

The paparazzi were nothing if not efficient. They’d just walked in the damn door.

“Need I ask how you know that?” he asked.

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