And why was she so convinced that Jack was here at the hotel? Or even in Romania at all?
Was it because he'd paid for my hotel suite?But how would Imogen know?Did she have access to his credit card or something?
It was a decent guess. And just when I'd decided that I might be right, she looked past me and hollered out something that sent me reeling all over again. "Jack!Thereyou are!"
Chapter 73
Jack
Yeah. I was.
And I wasn't happy with what I saw.
I'd just gotten off the elevator, only to see Imogen and Becka facing off in the crowded lobby.
Becka, who was dressed in jeans and a casual white shirt, was a sight for sore eyes. Imogen, whatever she was wearing, was the last person I wanted to see, especially here, so close to Becka.
I strode toward them, making plans as I moved.First step – get rid of Imogen.
Second step – make it right with Becka. And third – well, that depended on steps one and two.
Imogen stumbled toward me, jostling people aside as she wove her way through the crowd. I stopped to stare.Was she drunk?
But forget Imogen. I looked to Becka. She didn't move as our eyes locked across the distance. I gave her a pleading look.Don't leave.
She didn't.Thank God.Instead, looking almost amused, she followed in Imogen's wake.
I was still looking at Becka when Imogen plowed into me and clutched me like a lifeline.
Shit.
I made no move to return the embrace. "What are you doing?"
With no trace of that English accent, she slurred, "Saying hello."
She reeked of perfume and gin – and desperation. As she clung to me, she said, "Aren't you gonna say hello back?"
I made a move to dislodge her. "Hell no."
She refused to be dislodged. With her arms wrapped around my waist, she leaned back and stared up at me. "Hey, you said it all wrong."
No. I'd said exactly what I'd meant.To clear up any confusion, I told her, "You need to go." As I spoke, I moved backward, hoping she'd take the hint.
She didn't.Instead, she held on tighter, letting me drag her along for several paces as she whined, "But I came all this way!"
Yeah. Me, too.But it wasn't to seeher.
With growing frustration, I looked to Becka, who was still strolling toward us. As she moved, I drank in the sight of her, wishing I could stride forward and meet her more than halfway.
When she reached us, it was pure torture. To think, I could reach out and gather Becka into my arms, if only that space weren't occupied by a drunk interloper.
I gave Becka a pleading look. "Just wait, okay?"
She surprised me with an impish smile. The smile went straight to my heart, warming it all the way through. As I soaked up the sight of her, Imogen slurred, "IknewTom wasn't lying."
Tom?I looked to Imogen and said, "Tom who?"
She gave a drunken giggle. "Your pilot. He's beenreallyfriendly."
