Page 59 of Bishop's Queen

Ella groaned. Surely people were still eating, and the place still had to reek. Her stomach turned. “I need another couple of minutes.”

They stood in a quiet holding area where, only an hour ago, people had milled after coming off of the red carpet. They were outdoors, but the area was tented, and a cool breeze thankfully drifted by. Bishop walked over to a table set up with water glasses and two pitchers of water. Lemons floated in one, and the other contained cucumbers. He filled a glass and grabbed a handful of napkins. “Did any of that get on you?”

Her heart slowed at the simple gesture. “Yes. Thanks.”

She dabbed the cocktail napkin in the water and tried to wipe where she thought the waiter had left his mark—her forearm, neck, cheek—

“Don’t mess up your makeup.”

“Tara, really—”

“Give me this.” Tara grabbed the napkin and dabbed at Ella’s face. “There. Are you good now?”

She took a breath and cringed. Tara squeezed her lips.

“I have an idea,” Bishop volunteered. “Ella, hang tight a minute. There’s a drugstore across the street.”

Tara’s jaw dropped. “You’re leaving? Aren’t you sworn to protect her or something?”

“Are you going to off our girl?” He shot back. “Because frankly, I’m tired of your bullshit tonight.”

Stunned, Tara shook her head. “Well, no.”

“Good. It’s a secure area; everyone’s vetted. Security is there and there.” He pointed to the armed guards on either side of where they were. “Stand with her for five minutes.” Bishop put his hand on Ella’s shoulder. Warmth from his palm radiated down her arm. Tingles slipped down her spine, and her head spun for an entirely different reason. “Ella, you okay for a sec?”

She nodded, unsure of her voice.

“Good. Don’t move.”

The massive man gave her shoulder a squeeze and held her eyes as he nodded. Then, in a tux that looked tailor-made for his God-gifted body, he took off at a jog.

Both she and Tara stood and watched him disappear.

Tara huffed. “Obviously, no one is going to try tooff youhere. I’ll be inside. Unless you need me?”

Week after week, Tara had been harder to work with. “No. I’m fine.”

Then Tara gave her a once-over, and Ella braced for whatever scrutiny was coming. “Are you sure?”

That follow-up was unexpected. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“This actually works well. Upping the drama factor really does great things for your Google hits. Good thinking.” Pleased, Tara spun on her designer heel and left.

Right… always about publicity. Ella looked up. They were outside but in a cordoned-off area. She couldn’t see the street, as they were standing behind the partition used for the red carpet. The actual road had been closed for standing room, the press, and risers. The sky was barely recognizable with so much light pollution from the city. The stars barely shone. The half-hidden moon was not nearly as vibrant as she knew it could be. Still, for the first time in a few hours, she was by herself, minus event staff and the security guards that milled nearby, and her mind was quiet.

Bishop caught her attention as he jogged up with a white plastic bag in his hand. That was fast, and she had no doubt he’d likely run the whole way to the drugstore and back and hadn’t broken a sweat.

He lifted the bag. “Here’s the plan.”

“In there?” She ignored the urge to explain that plastic bags were the devil.

“Yup.” He pulled out a small bag of coffee and a container of Vicks VapoRub.

Laughing, she had no idea what his plan was. “Well, you’ve got me.”

“Trust me.” He pocketed the bag and the jar of Vicks then tore open the coffee. “Stick your nose in here. Breathe deep.”

She watched for any sign he was screwing with her, but there were none. “French Roast?”

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