Page 21 of The Healing Touch (Manwhore #3)

CHAPTER TWELVE

The North Charleston Convention center was massive, its wall of windows daunting.

Becca stared at it with trepidation. It held so many people, people who would be crowding her, asking questions, demanding answers.

Her hands shook, and she shoved them in her pockets.

Dimitri kept glancing at her, but she refused to look at him.

He needed her to do this, and dammit, she would.

No matter what their relationship might be right now, she was determined to make him understand how much people loved not his face, but the words he wrote.

If only he’d read the hundreds of emails telling him how much his words had resonated with people.

He’d know that, yes, he was gorgeous eye candy, but it was his books that kept his readers around.

“You think they have carts or something we can use to haul this inside?” Dimitri pulled her out of her quiet determination with his aggravated question.

He was staring at the mess in the Jeep with a bit of fear.

His legs had to be killing him. He’d been limping when he got out of the vehicle.

Realizing it, he’d straightened his spine and ignored the pain.

Idiot.

He should know better than to ignore his body’s warning signs. Pain was a clear indicator he needed to slow down and rest, but he was too much the macho man to ever admit he was anything less than the big, strong man he portrayed.

Idiot.

“I planned for this.” Pushing him aside, she dug around until she found the two rolling carts she’d bought and had shipped to the hotel as well.

Thank God she’d had the good sense to put them together while he’d been out running from her feelings.

She pulled them out and set them up. “See? We can load everything onto these and roll them into the building.”

“I would never have thought of this.” He looked impressed. Of course, he wouldn’t have. He’d never been to one of these things, and he never concerned himself with researching them or even bothering to read the countless emails he’d gotten. Stupid ass.

By the time they were done, everything was loaded onto the carts, aside from what had to be carried.

Becca looked out over the parking lot. People were everywhere.

Her eyes zeroed in on the entrance where even more people milled about.

Her palms started to sweat. How was she going to do this?

Her heartbeat was already speeding up with only the people hanging out at the entrance.

Nope, she couldn’t do this. Nope, nope, nope.

Dimitri’s fingers twined with hers, and he pulled her close, his breath tickling her ear. “Easy, Krasivaya . We don’t need to go in until you’re ready.”

And he’d stand here all night if that was what it took. She knew it and appreciated it, but did she appreciate it enough to force herself to willingly walk into a crowded building and risk a panic attack so severe it might hospitalize her?

“I could kiss you until you’re so distracted you don’t even realize you’re in a crowd.”

“What? No!” She turned to face him. “You will do no such thing!”

“Why not?” He sounded so serious. “I want to kiss you.”

“Well, you can’t.” He really needed to stop this nonsense. He was driving her crazy with all the mood swings. One minute he wanted her, friendship be damned, the next he was running away from her because of how she felt about him. The man needed to make up his damn mind.

“Again, why not?” His arm snaked out, snatching her to him. “You want to kiss me, don’t you, Becca?”

“I…” Her mouth went dry at the heat and intensity in his gaze. She wanted to kiss him very badly, but she knew it wasn’t in her best interest to give in to all that heat.

“You know you want to, sweetheart, so why fight it?” He leaned closer until his lips were a mere whisper away. “Kiss me.”

She shoved him, her heart pounding from the need to do just as he’d asked. Instead of doing what she wanted, she grabbed the handle of the cart and started pulling it toward the building, not even registering all the people she’d passed.

The exhibitor space was massive and one of the largest venues on Dimitri’s signing schedule.

She’d worked hard to get him a spot here.

No way was he ducking out. She stopped and took out her phone so she could pull up the email with his table number.

They’d switched his table after she’d convinced Sheila it might be better so no one would be pissed if his lines interrupted their tables.

He was table number five along the right wall.

It was easy to find, and she took a minute once she’d found it and parked her cart beside it.

Holy hell. She’d done it. She’d walked in through all those people and not panicked at all.

That asshole. She loved him. He’d distracted her so much, she hadn’t thought about the crowds or how they made her feel. Her only thoughts had been about him and kissing him and…she laughed.

“See?” he said softly. “All you need to do is not think about it.”

She jumped, not expecting him to be that close, but she should have known he’d be right behind her. He wouldn’t let her go into this mess alone.

“Sneaky bastard.”

He laughed. “It worked, though.”

Well, it had worked. No denying that. She knew if she let herself look around, all that work would be lost. She could hear everyone, feel the heat rising in the room from all the bodies packed into it. Best to just set the table up and get the hell out.

She directed Dimitri to work on getting his banners set up while she put the wooden rack together so she could start arranging his books in it. The wooden one had been more expensive, but she liked it better than the wire ones.

After a minute, she heard him swearing in Russian. Score one for the banners. At least she wasn’t the only one whose ass those things kicked.

“Really, D. It’s just a banner.”

“It’s not just a banner. It’s a demon from hell.” Dimitri let out another string of curses when the metal rod hit him in the face.

“You need some help there, baby doll?”

That voice, she knew—Sara Jane. Becca hoped she hadn’t pulled along more people wanting to meet the man candy.

Taking a deep breath to fortify her nerves, she turned and saw not only had she brought at least three other people, they were all laughing at Dimitri, who looked ready to murder the inanimate object in his hands.

“This fucking thing…how do you put them up?”

Sara Jane laughed and took the banner from him. She made quick work of it, grinning like an idiot. “See? It’s so easy my six-year-old could do it.”

“Easy?” He glared her down. “That is a fucking nightmare. Whoever invented that shit needs to be shot.”

“Is he always this babyish?” Sara directed the question at Becca. Her words froze as eyes turned to her. She clenched her fist, trying to gain control of the panic fighting to consume her. Breathe in, breathe out. Slow, deep breaths . She could do this.

“Always.”

There, she got one word out, and it didn’t sound too strangled. Well, it did, but it was her lie, and she was going to tell it. Becca needed all the help she could get right now.

“Nice to finally meet you, Becca.” Sara came over and hugged her. She went a little stiff but managed to at least attempt to hug her back. When Sara pulled back, she saw a bit of confusion in her eyes. “You okay, hon?”

Becca nodded, the urge to dash out of the room growing as more and more people filtered in and started chatting closer and closer to their table. “Long day.”

“I get that. It was an awful drive down. We hit traffic and road work. Beast of a ride. Let me introduce these fools who wanted to meet y’all.”

“Meet Dimitri, you mean?” She couldn’t help the wry smile that was tugged out of her despite all the panic.

“Ha ha, yeah. They all want to meet him.”

Becca tuned her out as she started to introduce everyone and focused instead on the swirls in the carpet and controlling her breathing. As long as no one came any closer, she could do this. The panic was there, and it could overwhelm her, but she was controlling it. No small feat.

Dimitri startled her when he caught her hand and pulled her to him. His concerned gaze met hers. He knew the panic was rising. No one else seemed to have noticed it, or at least wrote it off as being tired, but not Dimitri. He understood it, having witnessed it so many times this weekend.

“Becca is the only reason I’m able to do anything. If not for her, I’d be stuck marketing my ass off and no words would get written.”

“You do all of his promo images, don’t you?” This from the short, dark-haired girl. She looked familiar, but Becca couldn’t place her.

She dug her fingers into Dimitri’s side, not meaning him any pain, but needing something to clutch on to as she attempted to speak with all the panic trying to rise up and choke her.

“I do. He and Photoshop are mortal enemies.”

“It’s true. I deleted the damn thing in a fit of spite after it kicked my ass.”

“Do you do work for any other authors? I really need someone who can make them for me. Mine are terrible, not at all fancy like Dimitri’s. Those promo images sell our books as much as the actual covers do. I’m not artsy, and it shows.”

“I’ve never really worked with anyone else.”

“I’d pay whatever you wanted. Your images are gorgeous.”

She noticed several of the other women were listening and nodding. She’d never really thought about it before. Graphic design was what she’d gone to school for. Maybe she should think about it, at least?