Closely Guarded Secret Read Online Free PDF Page B

let this hotshot playboy rattle my cage? I’ve worked for years to keep men who feel they’re god’s gift to women at arm’s length from me. Every time I’ve photographed Steede at a society event, he’s had a different woman hanging onto his arm. I’ve always felt a bit sorry for them, groveling and swooning over him like a wet noodle. I giggle at the image, in spite of myself. I almost fell for it. Almost. Thank goodness I’ve come to my senses in time.
     
    I won’t call him and I’ll tell Jodi I can’t change my vacation plans, then there’ll be no event where Steede and I’ll have to cross paths again. He doesn’t have my contact information and we certainly don’t run in the same social circles, so it won’t be a problem to avoid him. I need to push that whole embarrassing hot/cold/tingly fiasco from yesterday out of my mind, and forget all about him.
     
    It’s a sunny afternoon with not a cloud in sight. I decide to walk back to the hotel, but I don’t get far. I get an eerie feeling someone’s watching me. I sit down at a sidewalk café to survey the area while I have a cool drink. No one seems to be paying any attention to me, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Although I feel a bit silly, I trust my intuition, and my training, and I hail a cab.
     
    As I walk into the hotel, a man jumps up from a chair, throws up his fists and yells, “You bitch. Who do you think you are, giving me the number of a fucking escort service?”
     
    Before he can move toward me, a hand grabs the back of his neck, and a tall, well dressed man, attached to the arm, looks at me and says, “Sorry, Ma’am. Don’t worry. He won’t bother you again,” all the while pushing the flailing man out onto the sidewalk and down the block.
     
    Pretty impressive response. My reactions are good, but the security guy’s were excellent. He came out of nowhere. The people who had turned to see what was happening have lost interest – it was all over so quickly.
     
    I lock the door, strip off my clothes down to my underwear, and plop down on the bed in the cool of my hotel room. As I lie here, I’m thinking about Bryce again. Damn it. Why is he invading my thoughts? Being around him brought up feelings of want and desire, feelings foreign to me and out of reach. Granted, I chose to build what I thought was an impenetrable wall, keeping my guard up and making myself emotionally unavailable. He’s good looking, I’ll give him that, and he knows how to use it to his advantage. Well, not this time Mr. Steede. Not this girl. It’s time to de-stress.
     
    I ask the concierge to call for a taxi to the nearest ice rink. As I open my room door, I almost collide with the hotel’s head of security. He’s wearing a gold-colored name badge and he shows me his hotel ID.
     
    “Ms. Quinn, on behalf of the hotel, I want to apologize for the incident in the lobby earlier. Are you doing okay?’
     
    “I’m fine. I appreciate your coming to check on me, though. I was very impressed with how quickly your employee handled the situation.”
     
    He paused, “Ms. Quinn, that man’s not our employee. In fact, we don’t know who he is.”
     
    “It’s nice to know good Samaritans still exist,” I say, making my way to the elevator.
     
    The cab drops me at Wollman Rink at Central Park. This is what I need. Turning my music on, I find what I’m looking for. When I really need to release tension on the rink, I prefer the music of Jean-Michel Jarre. Today I pick Equinoxe I and IV and Oxygene II and IV. With my earbuds in and my phone secured around my arm, I take off. The cold beneath me feels good as I glide along the ice.
     
    This is the escape I’ve needed since my flight. Since Mr. Sex on legs got to you. As the music intensifies, so does my stroking and I pick up speed, flying around the corners, backwards, spinning, and jumping. I feel light as a feather.
     
    #
     
    Back at the hotel, I check in for my flight