met Joe at the entrance and shook his hand. “Sorry about running out on you last night.”
Joe shrugged. “I know what it’s like. Been where you are and still have my moments.”
Wyatt swallowed past the lump in his throat. Damned right, Joe knew how it was. He’d been in therapy for over six months. The dogs had been the ticket out. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. You didn’t hurt my feelings.” Joe grinned. “Besides, I got some one-on-one time with the pretty redhead.”
Wyatt’s hands knotted into fists until he realized Joe was yanking his chain.
“She’s feisty that one,” Joe said. “I had to hold her back to keep her from going after you.” He shot a glance at Wyatt. “Smart, pretty and caring. Three of the things I like most in a woman. You going after her?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I’m not ready.”
“Well, if you’re not ready, mind if I ask her out?”
“Yes, I mind,” he bit out before he could think.
Joe laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want to stake a claim, but you don’t want anyone else poaching on the lady in the meantime.” He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t quite seem fair, but then I’m not a man to horn in on another man’s lover.”
Wyatt started to tell Joe that he wasn’t Fiona’s lover. But then that would be a lie. He’d made love to her the night before. That didn’t mean he had any kind of claim on her. He’d told her he didn’t want to start something. And he meant it. With his memories so fresh in his mind and the violence of his dreams, he didn’t trust himself to sleep with anyone. Especially not Fiona.
“I can see you have some issues to gnaw on.” Joe jerked his head to the side. “While you’re chewing, let’s get this show on the road.” He assigned sectors for each handler to manage and sent them on their way with instructions on what to look for and the procedure for if they found anything. When the dogs and handlers had dispersed, Joe tugged on Bacchus’s lead. “Come.” He glanced at Wyatt. “You’re welcome to tag along if you want. Bacchus and I love company.”
Wyatt fell in step with Joe and Bacchus as they searched one of the sections of the convention center Wyatt had been through earlier that morning. The dog sniffed and nosed around, moving on without stopping for long. Once they’d completed their sector, Joe guided the dog to the vendor displays in the center of the convention center. One row at a time, they traversed the showroom, noting each display, the items arranged on the tables and the people representing the products. Wyatt had scanned through the list of names and companies. Each entrant had been run through the FBI’s watch list before being approved, something Fiona had arranged months in advance of the convention.
Bacchus never once stopped to lie down like he would if someone had packed a bomb among the display setups or swag.
When they’d completed the sweep, Wyatt felt a little more confident about the building and the contents. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten. “Want to get some breakfast?” he asked Joe. “I’ll buy.”
“I’m always up for a free meal. Why don’t we ask your boss to join us?” He nodded toward the door where a perfectly dressed, prim and proper event planner entered. Her light charcoal skirt and wrinkle-free matching jacket were as neatly put together as the woman wearing them. She wore her deep red hair up and twisted into an elegant knot, pinned to the back of her head, the wild curls tucked in place, exposing the long pale length of her throat.
Wyatt could almost taste her skin. His groin tightened as he recalled every line and curve of the body beneath the skirt and jacket.
Before Wyatt could stop him, Joe raised a hand and called out, “Fiona, over here.”
Fiona glanced up and smiled at Joe. When her gaze connected with Wyatt’s her smile slipped and a rosy red blush crept up her neck to blossom in her
Joe shrugged. “I know what it’s like. Been where you are and still have my moments.”
Wyatt swallowed past the lump in his throat. Damned right, Joe knew how it was. He’d been in therapy for over six months. The dogs had been the ticket out. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. You didn’t hurt my feelings.” Joe grinned. “Besides, I got some one-on-one time with the pretty redhead.”
Wyatt’s hands knotted into fists until he realized Joe was yanking his chain.
“She’s feisty that one,” Joe said. “I had to hold her back to keep her from going after you.” He shot a glance at Wyatt. “Smart, pretty and caring. Three of the things I like most in a woman. You going after her?”
Wyatt shook his head. “I’m not ready.”
“Well, if you’re not ready, mind if I ask her out?”
“Yes, I mind,” he bit out before he could think.
Joe laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want to stake a claim, but you don’t want anyone else poaching on the lady in the meantime.” He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t quite seem fair, but then I’m not a man to horn in on another man’s lover.”
Wyatt started to tell Joe that he wasn’t Fiona’s lover. But then that would be a lie. He’d made love to her the night before. That didn’t mean he had any kind of claim on her. He’d told her he didn’t want to start something. And he meant it. With his memories so fresh in his mind and the violence of his dreams, he didn’t trust himself to sleep with anyone. Especially not Fiona.
“I can see you have some issues to gnaw on.” Joe jerked his head to the side. “While you’re chewing, let’s get this show on the road.” He assigned sectors for each handler to manage and sent them on their way with instructions on what to look for and the procedure for if they found anything. When the dogs and handlers had dispersed, Joe tugged on Bacchus’s lead. “Come.” He glanced at Wyatt. “You’re welcome to tag along if you want. Bacchus and I love company.”
Wyatt fell in step with Joe and Bacchus as they searched one of the sections of the convention center Wyatt had been through earlier that morning. The dog sniffed and nosed around, moving on without stopping for long. Once they’d completed their sector, Joe guided the dog to the vendor displays in the center of the convention center. One row at a time, they traversed the showroom, noting each display, the items arranged on the tables and the people representing the products. Wyatt had scanned through the list of names and companies. Each entrant had been run through the FBI’s watch list before being approved, something Fiona had arranged months in advance of the convention.
Bacchus never once stopped to lie down like he would if someone had packed a bomb among the display setups or swag.
When they’d completed the sweep, Wyatt felt a little more confident about the building and the contents. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten. “Want to get some breakfast?” he asked Joe. “I’ll buy.”
“I’m always up for a free meal. Why don’t we ask your boss to join us?” He nodded toward the door where a perfectly dressed, prim and proper event planner entered. Her light charcoal skirt and wrinkle-free matching jacket were as neatly put together as the woman wearing them. She wore her deep red hair up and twisted into an elegant knot, pinned to the back of her head, the wild curls tucked in place, exposing the long pale length of her throat.
Wyatt could almost taste her skin. His groin tightened as he recalled every line and curve of the body beneath the skirt and jacket.
Before Wyatt could stop him, Joe raised a hand and called out, “Fiona, over here.”
Fiona glanced up and smiled at Joe. When her gaze connected with Wyatt’s her smile slipped and a rosy red blush crept up her neck to blossom in her
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