Page 8 of Sapphire Sunset

“Thanks, sweetie, but don’t deny the obvious.”

“He was kidding,” Connor whispered.

“Nah uh. You’re Baby Blues,” Naser insisted.

“Is this real?” Connor whispered. “What’s happening? Is hereal?Did I hit my head?”

“All right, gents. I’ll show you back to your rooms.” With aclosed fist, Logan gestured in the direction of the nearest exit doors.

The three drunks stood their ground, a portrait of wobblyentitlement.

“Nah, I think we’ll hang out a bit,”Golfpantsasserted. “Maybe get ourselves a drink.”

Logan walked up toGolfpantsuntilthey were nose to nose. “I think you won’t.”

“Is that what you get paid to do around here?”Golfpantsasked. “Think?”

“You don’t want to see what I get paid to do,sir.”

“All right, guys.” Buddy Haskins, who’d been with thesecurity department forever, suddenly emerged from the crowd like he’d seen enough.If that was the case, why had it taken him so long to react? He wasn’t a guest.“Let’s clear out.”

Logan took a step back and gestured for the party crashersto file past him.Golfpantswent first, then suddenlyspun in Logan’s direction. What happened next happened so fast Connor figuredLogan was either waiting for it or a superhuman. Logan caught the man’s flyingfist and used it to wrench the guy’s arm around his back.Golfpantsyowled but was instantly immobilized. Now Logan was using the guy’s arm likethe handle of a lawnmower, driving him across the dance floor and toward theexit. Once they saw this quick and efficient display of force,DrunkyDee andDrunkyDumm walkedahead of Logan, heads bowed, eyes on the floor, as Logan drove his prisonerpast Connor.

When they were inches apart, Logan winked at Connor. “Enjoythe party, Mr. Harcourt.”

Connor couldn’t remember the last time he’d been winked atlike that.

And he certainly couldn’t remember the last time a wink hadsent shivers racing down his spine.

And as much as he wanted to stay right where he was in hopesof being hit by another wave of the guy’s woodsy cologne, his guests had beenharassed, and he needed to tend to them. But as soon as he threw his armsaround Jose and Ken in turn, it was clear from their excited chatter they alsocouldn’t think about anything except Logan.

Whenever a punch was thrown during a securityincident, the aftermath could be time consuming for everyone involved. Thesheriff’s department might get called. Internal paperwork would have to befiled in case of a lawsuit.

So Connor waited an appropriate amount of time beforeembarking on the plan he’d thought up in the back of his mind while calling outnumbers for the alumni association’s raffle. After congratulating the winners,he stepped out into the hall, bound for the lobby.

It was totally normal and not weird, what he was about todo.

He was the party’s organizer, the grandson of the owner, andsoon he’d be working in the events office. Hell, it was his responsibility tocheck in on what had become of his homophobic party crashers. Even if it meantasking the incredibly gorgeous Logan incredibly detailed questions abouteverything that had transpired. And even if said questions were an excuse togaze into the man’s dark eyes.

These rationalizations were still circling in his head whenhe heard footsteps scraping the carpet in his direction and looked up to see aman who challenged his notion of what family meant.

Connor screwed on his best polite smile.

His uncle, clad in his self-styled general manager’s uniformof black blazer, white dress shirt, and black dress pants, didn’t return it.

According to family legend, there was a time in UncleRodney’s life when he’d looked like Brad Pitt, but this was a time lived outonly by Uncle Rodney, apparently, because in the old photos Connor could find,Rodney looked more like a slim Donald Trump with slightly better hair. And Connorwas no expert at hotel management. Yet. But he’d been doing his homework eversince he was a young boy, and to his eyes, Rodney was more talk than skill. Hecould pour on the charm, for sure, wining and dining with the best of them—withthe emphasis on the wine part. But he had to because the day to day of his jobconsisted of bringing in new conference clients to replace the old ones he’dalienated with broken promises. Unfortunately, Connor’s grandfather was sold onhis youngest son’s bluster and confidence, which is why he’d placed Rodney incharge of the family’s sole prize possession, Sapphire Cove.

“Heard we’ve got some dirty dancing going on in there?” Rodneyasked in a tone that made it sound like Connor’s graduation party was anunacceptable indulgence for the property.

“I’m sorry. Dirty?” Connor asked.

“Apparently we had an incident.”

“Yeah, but not with dancing. With homophobic harassment ismore like it.”

“I see.” But Rodney was looking everywhere Connor wasn’t.

“You do? Becausedancingis not what caused thoseguys to touch my friends inappropriately and call one of them a pansy.”

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