Page 22 of Hidden Resolution

“I know you don’t. But will you humor me?” he cajoled, tucking a strand of her hair behind one delicate ear. “I don’t want to worry throughout the entire night.”

“Fine. Whatever. But none of your sexy-ass bullshit. I’m not caving,” she warned with a finger wag.

A bark of laughter escaped. “Sexy-ass bullshit? Will you clarify what you mean, so there’s no misunderstanding and all?”

She waved a hand up, down, and all around. “That! Right there. First, you’re all Neander-man, practically banging your chest. Now you’re all sweet and shit. All, ‘let me escort you back to your room.’ Don’t do that.”

“I see,” he said, with mock thoughtfulness. Later, when she was less combative, he’d ask what Neander-man meant. He suspected he knew, but clarification was in order.

Holding up his hand, two fingers skyward, he pledged, “I solemnly swear, I will honor my commitment to walk you back to your room without any sexy bullshit. On my oath as a Boy Scout.”

Shonda scoffed. “Oh, knock it off. As if any of you Sharps were Boy Scouts,” she grumbled. She gripped his hair so tightlyhe dared not sneeze or he’d have bald spots. Her low, frustrated growl tickled him, and he was on the verge of making a wiseass remark. Jerking his head down, she kissed him, erasing any desire he had to kid.

“The Scouts were a three-finger salute,” she informed him, never losing sight of the conversation. With a defeated sigh, she added, “And I’m so glad you weren’t. Race you back to my room. First one there gets to be on top.”

Mason gave her a ten-second head start for three reasons. One, he wanted to admire her ass. Two, he was more than fine with her taking command of their sexcapades. The third reason? Expending unnecessary energy went against the grain. He fully intended to use all he could muster in making love to her.

Suddenly remembering he didn’t like to lose, he quickened his pace.

They arrived at her door together. Technically, it was a tie, but she proudly declared herself the winner, and Mason found no reason not to indulge her.

A single glimpse of her puzzled visage shot any plans for the night straight to hell.

“What is it?”

She gestured toward the slightly ajar door.

“Stay back,” he ordered in a low voice.

“This again?” she whispered fiercely.

Done with the nonsense, Mason snaked an arm around her waist and backed her up against the opposite wall. Once they were at a safe distance, he tipped her chin up. In a low voice, he said, “Please go to the reception desk and get security up here.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m asking, not telling. Please, Shonda. I only want you safe.”

He dropped a soft kiss on her lips, lingering longer than he should’ve. Time was of the essence if he wanted to catch the culprit terrorizing her.

“Okay.” She sighed and cast a worried glance behind him. “But shouldn’t I just call them? What about you?”

“I’d prefer you away from the danger. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He waited until she rounded the corner before cautiously inching open the door. The air was stale, as if the suite was empty, and his sixth sense told him no one lay in wait. But caution was the theme of the day.

He stopped and swore.

The place was completely trashed. He’d bet his last dollar nothing was missing this time, either, and the break-in was a scare tactic.

Grim determination settled over him.

Whoever was harassing Shonda was going to pay. Dearly.

Two hours later, after the police cleared out, Mason helped Shonda pick up and fold the clothes strewn about.

“Pack your things. You’re staying with me for the remainder of our trip.”

“No, Mason. I can’t impose on you.”

“It isn’t up for debate, love. We’re spending our nights together anyway. Why not move in together?”

“They’re re-keying my lock. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”