The Boss And His Cowgirl. Silver James

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СКАЧАТЬ fault. It won’t happen again, Senator.”

      Clay nodded. Working so closely with family could blur the lines but Hunter knew his team had screwed up. He acknowledged it by using Clay’s title. From the looks of things as they’d left the alley, the local authorities had the perpetrators in custody. Hunt would make sure the protesters were prosecuted.

      As the SUV careened around a corner, Georgie slammed her head back against the seat and groaned. Before Clay could react, Boone had her leaning forward and was gently probing the back of her head.

      “Sugar, that’s a big lump you’ve got back there.”

      “Oh...uh... I think I hit a metal cabinet or something. The first time I fell. As I stood up. Maybe.” She settled carefully against the back of the seat.

      Boone carried on a quiet conversation over his cell phone, making arrangements for their party to arrive late at the Scottsdale fund-raiser. Without discussing it, Clay decided to leave Georgie at the hotel, along with one of the security team members. The poor girl was obviously upset, not that he blamed her. She was bruised, bloody and probably had injuries she didn’t even realize she had.

      Driving the wrong way, the convoy pulled into the guest exit of the Barron’s Desert Crown Resort in Scottsdale. The security team wanted Clay, who was sitting behind the driver, to exit closest to the hotel’s entry. The squad disembarked from their vehicle and formed a phalanx to move Clay through the lobby and onto the elevator. When his door opened, Clay stepped out and pulled Georgie out after him, refusing to relinquish her hand. He felt connected to her and protective.

      A barrage of camera flashes flared and Georgie stumbled. Without thinking, Clay swept her into his arms in a princess carry. Her arms circled his neck and she buried her face against his shoulder, hiding from the cameras and shouted questions. His anger surged again but cooler heads prevailed as Boone and Hunter guided him through the lobby and onto a waiting elevator, ignoring the reporters yelling for a statement.

      The express ride took them straight to the penthouse level where Clay occupied the Sonoma Suite, the hotel’s equivalent of presidential lodging. He met Boone’s surprised expression with quiet directions. “Go to her room and get her bags. She’ll stay up here in the empty guest room.”

      Comprised of a living room, formal dining room, study, kitchen facilities and four bedrooms with attached baths, there was room for Clay, Boone, Hunter and now Georgie. He didn’t want her alone in some random hotel room, even though every room in his family’s resort was five-star. He wanted her safe and he wasn’t convinced she would be out of his sight—irrational as that sounded. Without breaking stride, Clay continued into the master bedroom and straight to the massive bath. He set her on the marble vanity top without regard to the gray smudges smeared across his white Western-cut shirt. He almost smiled at the impression his turquoise bolo tie had left on Georgie’s cheek. Keeping a hand on her shoulder to hold her steady, he grabbed a washcloth and wet it, squeezing out the excess water with one hand.

      She remained bug-eyed, her pupils dilated, and he could almost feel her shock. Her hair, normally in a neat bun at the back of her head, was tousled and framing her pale face—and was far longer than he’d realized. With gentleness he didn’t know he possessed, Clay removed her glasses and set them in the sink to be washed. He wiped her face first, rinsing the cloth before moving to her skinned knees. Her hands, clenched into tight balls on her lap, slowly relaxed.

      He’d never been this...intimate with her before. They worked closely together but touching her like this? She was...Georgie. Always there when he needed a press release, a statement or a sounding board. She was efficient. Professional. And he was surprised at the curves he’d discovered when he picked her up. He realized, belatedly, that there was a very feminine woman lurking beneath her rather dowdy exterior.

      Then he remembered why she was sitting on the counter in his bathroom. Anger flashed through him as hot as a grease fire. “Dammit, Georgie. This shouldn’t have happened. Especially not to you.”

      She blinked, squinted, did her best to focus her eyes on his face. “Yeah, well.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

      “Boone’s gone to your room to get your things. Stay in here and get cleaned up. Then I want you to move into the other guest room.” He tilted his head toward the door. “There’s a robe on the back of the door. Okay?”

      She fumbled for her glasses. He snatched them first, washed and dried them before handing them to her. Once they were back on her face, she looked more like herself, and her green eyes lost some of that shell-shocked glaze. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed her shoulder. “Yeah, I definitely want out of these clothes. They stink like smoke.”

      Clay backed away. “I’ll get out of here so you have some privacy.”

      She nodded but didn’t speak so he gave her arm a little pat and steadied her as she slipped off the counter to stand on the marble floor. Once she had her balance, he backed out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. He almost ran over Hunter, who’d been hovering just outside.

      “Dammit, Hunt. How did this happen? How did the protesters get inside?” Clay was as angry at himself as he was his security chief. Security should have watched out for her. Hell, he should have watched out for her. She was, ultimately, his responsibility.

      Hunt made a noise that resembled a growl. “A group came through a secondary entrance in the basement and got to the main control board. Building security thinks it might have been an inside job. They’re investigating.”

      Lightning flashed beyond the sheer curtains covering the bedroom window, followed shortly by thunder. Frowning, Hunt pulled out his cell phone, swiped the screen then punched an app icon. “I didn’t know we had weather moving in tonight.” He checked the forecast and radar then shrugged. “Nothing but boomers and some rain. Now, about Georgie. It won’t happen again, Clay. I promise. I’ll put a man on her personally.”

      Clay tunneled his fingers through his hair. “As soon as she’s—” A massive boom rattled the window glass and seconds later, all the lights in the suite went out. A scream from inside the bathroom had both men scrambling—Hunt for light, Clay for the door handle.

      Jerking the door open, Clay found Georgie kneeling on the floor, her head down, shoulders hunched. Was she gagging? Jeez, but he hated that sound. Had ever since college and drunken frat parties. He kicked the door shut in Hunter’s face and bent down. Using the flashlight app on his cell, he checked her over. Clay lifted her long brown hair back from her face, though she tried to turn away. Georgie’s throat worked as she swallowed hard, coughing with the effort.

      To combat his very visceral reaction to what was happening, Clay recited the Gettysburg Address. Then the Preamble to the US Constitution. He figured he’d have to start on the Declaration of Independence next but Georgie finally inhaled and turned an apologetic gaze on him. He stood to retrieve another washcloth.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured, not looking at him as he crouched beside her.

      He wondered if her heightened color was a result of exertion or embarrassment. “It’s okay—” He bit off the next word, an endearment that slipped too easily into his head. To cover, he brushed her hair back over her shoulders. Pet names didn’t come as easy to him as they did Boone. The fact that one had formed on his tongue should have concerned him, but he couldn’t work up the energy to worry about it at the moment. He handed her the washcloth and she wiped her mouth and face but still wouldn’t look at him. It was then he realized she’d stripped down to a bra and panties—red ones. He refused to process that visual, СКАЧАТЬ