Page 2 of Close Protection

"I haven't finished this one," the woman said, lifting her glass.

"Then you're falling behind." Ivy extended her hand. "I'm—" She stopped herself, remembering her situation. Anonymity suddenly seemed like a gift. "Actually, no names. Let's keep this simple."

The woman's eyebrow arched slightly, but she nodded. "Simple," she echoed, not taking Ivy's offered hand.

Ivy withdrew it, amused rather than offended. "Not a fan of touching strangers?"

"Just cautious by nature." The woman took a deliberate sip of her drink, eyes never leaving Ivy's face. "Though you don't seem particularly concerned about caution yourself."

The bartender delivered Ivy's whiskey and a second of whatever the woman was drinking—a local bourbon, Ivy realized as she caught its scent. She lifted her glass in a silent toast.

"Caution is overrated," Ivy said aftertaking a sip. "Especially when you've already calculated the risks."

"Have you?" The woman's mouth curled into something almost resembling a smile. "Calculated the risks of approaching a stranger in a hotel bar?"

"You're not a threat to me." Ivy leaned slightly closer. "At least, not in any way I haven't consented to."

The woman's eyes darkened, but her expression remained controlled. "You sound very certain about someone you know nothing about."

"I know enough." Ivy tilted her head. "Law enforcement or military? Your posture gives you away. Plus the way you've cataloged every exit since I sat down."

That earned her a genuine reaction—a brief flash of surprise quickly masked. "Former military," the woman conceded. "Current...private sector."

"Security consultant?" Ivy guessed. It was a common enough transition.

"Something like that." The woman made a dismissive gesture with her free hand. "What about you?"

"Me?" Ivy smiled. "I'm just a woman having a drink at a bar."

"A woman who can spot ex-military at twenty paces and who doesn't want to exchange names." The woman leaned back slightly. "Not exactly the average hotel guest."

"I never claimed to be average." Ivy ran a finger around the rim of her glass. "Besides, maybe I just wanted to buy a drink for the most interesting person in the room."

"Flattery." The woman shook her head. "Now I know you want something."

Ivy laughed, the sound surprising her with its genuineness. It had been days since she'd laughed—weeks, maybe.

"Is it so hard to believe that I simply find you attractive?" she asked.

The woman studied her for a long moment. "No," she finally said. "But it's hard to believe that's all there is to it."

"Maybe I'm looking for distraction." Ivy glanced toward the window, where darkness had fully claimed the ocean outside. "Maybe I have a thing for women who look like they could either protect me or destroy me."

"That's a dangerous preference."

"I've had a dangerous week."

Something in Ivy's tone must have revealed more than she intended, because the woman's expression shifted slightly—a subtle softening around the eyes.

"We all have our reasons for being in hotel bars alone," the woman said quietly.

The lounge had grown more crowded as they talked, the ambient noise rising with each new arrival. Ivy leaned closer to be heard.

"Let's move somewhere quieter."

Without waiting for a response, she stood and walked toward a secluded seating area near the windows. After a moment's hesitation, she sensed rather than saw the woman follow her.

They settled into a corner booth with deep blue upholstery that seemed to absorb sound, creating a pocket of privacy. The ocean stretched beyond the glass, an endless void mirroring the sky above.

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