Page 23 of The Healing Touch (Manwhore #3)

“Sure am. I’m way back there in the corner.” She pointed off to the side, snickering. “I swear someone hates me, sticking me back there where I can’t find an air vent. I’m going to burn up tomorrow.”

“Everyone loves you, doll.” Dimitri looked over the room, noticing it was really starting to fill up. Best to get this shit done and out of here quickly. “Hey, you wouldn’t know where we can get some good seafood, would you? I’ve been dying for fresh seafood since I got here.”

“It’s the Cali in him. He’s forgotten what it’s like to eat anything but fish.

” Becca stood back to assess the table. She’d purposefully done it in tones of silver and blue, with lots of black to make it look sexy yet manly.

None of his swag was too over the top, and the black jewelry boards showcased all the charms she’d ordered for him as well. It looked damn good.

“Wow.” Sara Jane came to stand beside her, ogling the table. “This is gorgeous. Where did you get the cloth banner?”

“Small shop on the south side of Chicago. I gave them the logo graphic, and they worked magic. I wanted this to be a table banner that didn’t cover the front but was draped over the middle of it instead. They did a great job.”

“You have to give me the name of the place. I’ve wanted one of these for a good year, but every place I tried, it didn’t come out right.”

“Sure. I’ll message you later.” She straightened the wooden rack to the right angle so the books were the first thing people would see when they entered the door.

“See? You wanted me to try to do this by myself?” Dimitri eyes widened in the most exaggerated way. “It would have looked nothing like this.”

“Hush, you would have suckered Sara into helping you out, and you know it.” She shoved him playfully, purposely keeping her back to the crowd. That was helping more than anything, but tomorrow? That had her nervous.

“I would have too. I’m a sucker for that smile.” Sara winked at Dimitri. “Now, seafood…Mom and I were going to try Hyman’s Seafood, but I got pulled into lunch with the girls. Now, I’m so tired, all I’m going to do is go order some takeout and relax until tomorrow.”

“Becca and I will check it out and let you know. Vik will be here in the morning and wanted to meet you at breakfast. That cool?”

“Yeah, as long as he doesn’t mind my six-year-old tagging along. I promised to take her out to breakfast in the morning.”

“That’s fine. You get some sleep and stop worrying. Kincaid Security and Investigations will get you sorted. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Becca watched him from beneath her lashes.

Strangely, when it came to Sara, she felt not a twinge of jealousy.

She never had. His other women were an entirely different matter.

She’d hated them and on occasion had printed out a photo just to shred it.

She’d been best buds with the little green monster for a long time.

“You ready, babe? Or do we need to do anything else?”

“I’m set. All you have to do is sign books when we get back to our room.”

“Our room?” Sara’s eyebrows did that wiggly thing, and Becca felt heat blooming onto her cheeks.

“I wasn’t supposed to come this weekend, and there were no more rooms available, so I got stuck bunking with the crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“Yes, the crybaby who pitches a fit until he gets what he wants. What would you call it?”

“Temper tantrum.” Sara winked. “Delia does it all the time.”

“I swear. I can’t take you two anywhere without you trying to make fun of me. You, Sara Jane, get gone, and you and me,” he pointed at Becca, “we’re going to eat and talk.”

Sara laughed and started walking back toward her table.

Becca’s nerves started to fray thinking about what Dimitri wanted to talk about.

Not a discussion she wanted to have. He was going to tell her while he wanted to fuck her, that was all it would be.

He didn’t do relationships. They could have fun, but it wouldn’t go past fuck buddies.

And, honestly, she might give in. She’d wanted him so badly for so long, and her body betrayed her every time he got close, so why fight him? It would hurt her like a train wreck, that was why, she told her subconscious. But it might be worth the heartache to have those memories.

“Becca?”

Startled, she found herself surrounded by three guys, two of whom she knew. Models. The third one was a model as well, but she’d never chatted with him on Facebook before. Kyle Moore, Henry Dawl, and Mr. Biceps. Gorgeous eye candy, all three, but none of that mattered to her right this minute.

She took several steps backward to ward off the trapped, closed-in feeling. It didn’t prevent the tremors from starting, though, or the sweat from beading her forehead. A sick feeling began to churn in her stomach, and the walls felt a little tighter. Closed in.

“Hi, Henry, Kyle.” Three little words, but the hardest three she’d had to speak in years.

Henry rushed her, wrapping her in a hug, and she fought not to scream, not to choke on the lack of air getting into her lungs. This was too much, too much.

“We didn’t know you were coming, baby girl. You should have told us. We’d have taken you out for lunch.”

“Let me go,” she gasped, working and failing at stopping the panic from stomping her in the gut.

Henry let her go, confused. Concern replaced the confusion when he got a good look at her. “You okay, Becca?”

“Don’t fucking put your hands on her again.”

Dimitri looked ready to murder them, his eyes ice cold, and his entire body primed to fight. Becca struggled to pull air into her lungs. She knew he was going to hurt someone. Because of her.

“Chill, dude. We’re friends.”

“Don’t fucking care, dude.” He stepped over to where Becca stood and made her bend over a little, grabbing her purse off the table and digging until he found her inhaler. “She’s mine. Don’t touch her.”

“What-the-fuck-ever.” Henry ignored him and stepped closer. “What’s wrong with her?”

“None of your fucking business.” Dimitri’s entire tone went as hard and cold as the ice in his eyes.

Becca took several long pulls of air into her lungs once the inhaler started to work. She concentrated on the carpet and counted to twenty, scared Dimitri would explode before she could stop him.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” She wheezed a bit, but there was no help for it.

“You are not fine, baby girl. What’s wrong?”

Becca closed her eyes then opened them when she heard the growl leave Dimitri. Henry had inched closer. “I am, I promise. I’ll message you tonight and explain it, but I just need to get out of here right now.”

Henry didn’t look convinced but did move back when Dimitri pulled her to him and moved her quickly through the building and out to the Jeep.

She was shaking so badly, it felt like her teeth were chattering.

She could breathe, but barely, and the nauseated feeling wouldn’t stop.

Bile rose, and she barely managed to get the door open before hot liquid went spewing.

“What do you need?” Dimitri fussed as soon as he was in the driver’s side. “What can I do?”

She shook her head and closed the door, turning the AC on full blast and aiming it right at her face. She hugged herself, her nails biting into her arms to try to calm her shaking hands. It was a bad idea. She knew it before she walked in. Why had she thought she could do this?

Dimitri felt helpless watching her misery. He shouldn’t have asked her to do this, dammit. He’d seen what just the thought of it had done, but he’d stupidly thought since she’d handled the last couple places he’d taken them and seemed to be handling the small crowd in the event room, she’d be okay.

Wrong. All it took was getting cornered by three people while he’d stopped to chat with the author at the table beside them.

He hadn’t seen the men until it was too late.

Didn’t matter if she knew them; she didn’t trust them like she did him.

That was why she freaked, and he’d had his back turned, thinking she would grab her purse and join him.

He should have known better than to turn his back in a room full of people she knew better than he did.

He started the Jeep and pulled out, heading back to the hotel. She was in no shape to try a restaurant. He’d get her calmed down then go find food for them both.

“Where are we going?”

Her quiet voice startled him. “Back to the hotel.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shot a glance her way and saw her hunch in on herself. No way in hell was she going to blame herself for this.

“You don’t have a fucking thing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I do. I shouldn’t have asked you to come when I knew what might happen. I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t deserve you.”

“You deserve someone who can go to things with you, be in the spotlight. You love being the center of attention. You need someone who can share that with you.”

The sadness in her voice set off alarm bells.

She was going to say no before he even had a chance to ask her to see where this could go.

All because he’d pushed too hard, too fast. Fuck.

He had to get her back to the hotel room where he could hold her, make her understand the only thing he cared about was her.

The fucker in the back of his head whispered, “What if you can’t be happy with someone who’d rather be at home instead of out doing things?”

Then he looked at her. His beautiful, sweet woman who would do anything for him. The least she deserved was someone who would do the same for her, and if that meant finding a way to work with her anxiety, then he’d damn well do it.

But how to convince her of that?

When he pulled up to the hotel, he got out and threw the keys at the valet attendant before opening Becca’s door.

She sat huddled in the seat, her eyes wide, nostrils flared, and doing her best to get control of her anxiety.

He didn’t even ask her to try to walk. He tossed her purse in her lap then scooped her up in his arms, ignoring the stares as he strode through the lobby and to the elevator.

Much to the credit of the staff, one of the desk attendants ran to catch up and hit the elevator button.

“What floor, sir?” The young man looked at Becca, clearly concerned, but she refused to look at anyone. She’d buried her head under his chin the moment he’d picked her up.

Fuck if he could even remember.

“Third floor,” Becca whispered, her voice hoarse.

The attendant rode all the way up with them and used his key card to open the room door for Dimitri. The kid didn’t even wait for a tip, just closed the door. He’d have to remember to look him up later.

He sat on the bed, keeping her in his lap, his arms locked around her, and rocked her.

He didn’t know if it would help, but he didn’t know what else to do.

She hiccupped, and to his horror, he realized she’d started crying.

What the hell was he supposed to do? Crying females usually sent him running in the other direction.

“Don’t cry, baby, please.” He kissed the top of her head. “It cuts me deep.”

She only cried harder. He did the only thing he could—he held her tight and rocked her until she cried herself to sleep. And still he held her when her breathing evened out. She looked so lost. He swore then and there, she’d never look like that again, but he needed help.

He stood and laid her gently on the bed, using the soft throw she’d brought with her to cover her.

He needed to make some calls. He turned out all but the bathroom light and let himself out quietly.

He needed to find food, call his family, and then come back and sign everything.

If he didn’t, she’d only stress more, and that was the last thing he wanted.