Page 59 of Wild Rush Of Love
She shook her head. “Not six a.m.”
“What?”
“Six p.m.”
“Oh,” Caitlyn said with a frown. “That’s only about fourteen hours ahead of the original.”
“No. Tonight. Six p.m.tonight.”
Caitlyn’s eyes rounded. “But that’s only four hours from now.”
Reena grinned. “I know.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rush smiledthrough clenched teeth at the woman across the bar.
She’d been coming on to him and every other male member of staff since she sat down.
He’d cut off her liquor an hour ago and she hadn’t taken the hint that perhaps she needed to go to her room.
He hated doing it, but he’d sent a text to Cam two minutes ago.
Normally he’d handle this type of thing himself. Hell, in the past, he might have taken her up on her blatant offer of sex in those first few minutes of acquaintance. Although he’d never messed with women who had tan lines on their wedding fingers and while this woman’s was faint, it was there. Plus, it had only taken two glasses of wine for her claws to come out.
He didn’t need to be this woman’s scratching post.
“Good evening, Mrs. Delacourt.” Cam slid onto the stool beside their inebriated guest.
“Mr. Newell.” The vulture—and yes, that’s what she reminded Rush of, a bird ready to pick a guy’s bones clean—eyed his friend with the same lecherous intent she’d used on every other male within sight. “Let me buy you a drink.”
Clicking her fingers at Rush, her previous cajoling tone turned commanding.
“Get this man a shot of the best scotch you have.”
Rush raised an eyebrow at Cam.
“That’s a lovely gesture, Mrs. Delacourt, but—”
“Call me Veronica, or Roni. Myclosefriends call me Roni,” she interrupted while attempting to lean in and reveal her obviously surgically enhanced cleavage to Cam.
Unfortunately, she’d really had too much to drink, and she toppled forward, almost landing face-first in Cam’s lap.
“Jesus,” Cam muttered, his hands on her shoulders to keep her out of his crotch. “Time to get you to bed.”
“Yes.” The woman smiled up at Cam. “Take me to bed.”
Cam glanced over at Rush. “This is not happening.”
Rush grinned. “Oh, yes it is, and you, my friend, are the one who has to deal with it.”
“Chicken.”
Rush laughed. “Yep. Yellow as they come and flapping my wings.”
Cam got to his feet and hauled Mrs. Delacourt with him, pinning her to his side to keep her upright. Rush might have cut her off an hour ago but the damage had been done. The woman was pickled.
“I’ll be back,” Cam said. “And I’ll want that scotch.”
