Page 51 of Captivated By You
Good grief, I didn’t know they made men like this. Must have been all that Midwestern homegrown beef and corn.
I almost snickered at the thought, barely managing to keep myself composed.
“Who is this?” the man asked.
“Sorry.” Liam glanced down at me and nodded his head. “Claudia, this is Jordan Marx. He’s an old friend of mine from back in school.”
“I got that.” I grinned and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
His hand slid into mine.
“My pleasure,” he said and grinned at Liam, still holding my hand. “You always get the pretty ones.”
“Like hell. You’ve had your fair share.” Liam growled. “And are you gonna let my girl’s hand go?”
I hadn’t even realized he was still holding me, but at Liam’s question, Jordan’s hand slid from mine, smirking at Liam before his expression went serious.
“I talked to all the staff. Told everyone that if they leaked you were here, I’d find them and bury ‘em in pop’s farm field. You have the top floor. There are two rooms up there. I put some security men outside the elevator and the room next to yours is empty in case you need to bring your family here. Anything else you need from me?”
“A bottle of scotch?” Liam asked, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck. Never mind. I need to stay clear headed. How bad has it been?”
Jordan shrugged, sliding his hand into his pant’s pockets. “Drove by your parents’ place and there were a few cars there, but it’s not as bad as it used to be.”
When he was accused of rape. The heaviness of the moment hit my shoulders as the two men continued talking. I felt smaller by the minute, not because I was being ignored, but because I hadn’t trusted him. He’d planned everything and even in the lobby of the hotel while the two check-in clerks were trying hard to look professional, they were still stealing peeks.
But who could blame them? Both men were incredibly sexy, one polished and refined even though he spoke like he hadn’t always been, and the other was known to women all over the world.
Their low, rumbling laughs caught my attention and I turned back to Jordan and Liam. Both had carefree grins and booming laughs that had their shoulders shaking. I’d missed something, but it didn’t matter. I could watch Liam laugh all day long for the rest of my life, and never need to hear a spoken word.
Beautiful.
He caught me staring at him and tugged on my hand. “Sorry. We should get to our room, huh.”
“Whatever you want to do.”
“I’ll let you get settled. Don’t forget,” Jordan said, “you need anything, just call.”
“Got it, thanks again.” Liam smacked his shoulder and I said my goodbyes to Jordan, barely able to peel my eyes off him as we walked to the elevators. “Sorry about that,” Liam said to me once we were inside the lift. “Didn’t mean to ignore you, sometimes it’s just nice to shoot the shit with people who knew me before.”
He’d needed that. In the reflection of the elevator, all the tightness and stress had melted away, leaving the guy I’d known the last two weeks.
“I didn’t mind. It’s nice to see you normal.”
“Normal?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “I mean, other than Anguilla, I’ve only seen you on stage and in interviews. You were different with him. Relaxed.”
“That’s because this is home.” He pushed his hands through his hair and tilted his head back. Shaking off whatever thought he had, he slid his hands to his hips, still grinning. “Jesus, I needed that. Laughs with a friend who doesn’t give a shit about my album or my money. People here are good people. Straight shooters. You do them good and they give it back tenfold.”
“Like when you help someone after they ditch a truck in the river?”
“What a bunch of punks we were then.” I was curious about the story but didn’t need to know. The worst thing I’d done in high school was sneaking a bottle of my mom’s pinot to a graduation party. I’d had two glasses and tripped on someone’s patio, breaking my high-heel shoe. Lame.
The elevator doors dinged and opened and even if I’d wanted him to tell me more about his high school antics which were assuredly worse and crazier than mine, but I bet a heck of a lot more fun, too, he guided me off the lift and to the door almost immediately to the right.
We were met with two men. Brawny and bald, both of them were wearing dark blue jeans and tight-fitted black shirts.
“David and Dustin,” one of the men said, gesturing toward the second guy I assumed was Dustin. “Jordan hired us for your stay. Don’t worry, sir. Ma’am,” he nodded toward me. “No one will get past us.”
