Page 5 of Freeing Savannah

He didn’t answer, but his silence was its own kind of yes.

Her mouth dropped open like he’d just asked if she’d auditioned for a hemorrhoid medication commercial. “Oh myGod, you actually thought I washer?” She gave a dramatic scoff. “Wow.Wow.”

Voodoo blinked. “You’re not?”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Do you live under a rock? I’m Kandy. With aK. Because I’m sweet and unforgettable.”

His continued blank stare prompted her to go on, “You know,theKandy.” She paused, as if waiting for some kind of response from him. “As in two world tours, three Grammys, and the face of LuxeWear fragrance?” She gestured to herself. “This doesn’t scream ‘dull and dowdy classical pianist,’ babe. This screamsicon.”

Voodoo gave a slow, impassive blink. “I don’t listen to pop.”

She laughed like it was the cutest thing she’d ever heard. In a tone of denial, she insisted, “Sure you don’t.” With an air of entitlement, she moved closer, as if his personal space was hers for the taking. “Playing hard to get? Cute. I like that in a man. Keeps things interesting.”

Voodoo turned his head just enough to look at her. “Ma’am.”

“Oh, formal. I can work with that,” she purred, arching her body in a motion that screamedlook at me.“But I think we both know you’re dying to be with me.”

“I’m really not.”

Giving a casual wave, she let out a soft purr and then, with a playful air of confidence, declared, “I’ll rock your world; I’m simply that unforgettable!”

He stared straight ahead. “You’re definitely something.”

Kandy leaned in closer, completely ignoring the steel wall he was projecting. “Listen, I get it. You’re probably just overwhelmed. Most guys don’t know what to do with all this.” She motioned to herself like she was unveiling the Sistine Chapel.

He shifted slightly, creating a much-needed space between them, his muscles tense with the effort. “I don’t get overwhelmed.”

She laughed again, mistaking his comment for banter. “Oh, honey. You’re funny. Dangerous, broody, and funny? Triple threat. You better watch out . . . I fall fast.”

Voodoo’s jaw flexed. Where the hell was his assignment?

Kandy flicked her hair, clearly not getting the message. “I bet you’ve got a rough exterior, but a soft heart. Ilovethat. You’re a protector, huh? A man who takes care of what’s his.”

He let the silence hang just long enough before deadpanning, “Only what Iwantto be mine.”

“Ooh, a slow burn.” She practically clapped. “Iknewyou’d be trouble.”

He stole a quick glance at his watch, once again wondering about his client’s whereabouts, all the while pointedly ignoring the increasingly obvious and irritatingly persistent innuendos coming from the bothersome woman crowding him.

“Well, can you be any morepainfullyobvious?” she muttered, folding her arms with a pout. And of course, the action pushed her tits up in a way he feared they’d tumble out of her top. “God, do you evenknowwhat Savannah McNabney looks like? I met her once at a charity gala. Talk about beige. I mean, the girl woreflats.Inpublic.”

She leaned in like they were old friends swapping gossip. “She’s one of those ‘I-don’t-do-social-media’ types, you know? Like it’s a flex to be invisible. Total bore. Probably alphabetizes her books and labels her salad dressing.”

He didn’t answer. He’d stopped listening.

Because the terminal door hissed open.

And she walked in.

Light blonde hair, natural, not styled to make a statement. Soft features, confident stride, eyes that scanned the room with quiet intelligence. No noise. No flash. No performance.

Savi.

She was older, sure. More guarded. But he knew her.

She spotted him instantly and froze.

Something passed across her face. Shock. Hope. Recognition.

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