nha. She had a plane to catch the next morning, and the thought
of flying back to Paris and away from him unnerved her. She
wondered what would become of them, what this all meant, if
anything. He looked up at her, and the conflict in his eyes told her that he had similar concerns.
“I have to go.” She explained, “Cheyenne’s on the verge of
strangling the bride.”
“Well we can’t have that now, can we?” Phillip’s response
was casual, “I need breakfast anyway. I have some protein stores to replenish.”
“Quit making it so hard to leave,” she groaned, lightly
scratching her nails across his shoulders as she released him
from her embrace.
“Quit making it so hard,” he replied with a sly grin. She tossed her head and laughed. Turning, she bent over to pick up
her discarded clothes, and Phillip pulled her back onto the bed.
“Sorry, love. I’m not quite through with you just yet.” One
look at his mischievous grin and she knew she was going to be
very late for pre-wedding photographs.
As Steph climbed the long path back up to the lobby, she
felt her stress level rising with each step. It couldn’t be put off any longer. She had to go to her room, and she had to face Christopher. He was such an unpredictable man that she had no idea
what lay ahead. Phillip had pressed her to let him come along,
but she knew that would only make a bad situation disastrous,
203
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
and she insisted on doing it on her own.
When she finally reached the main building, she decided to
be stealthy and took the long way around. It was a calculated
move to avoid being seen by anyone in the dining area. She did
not relish doing the walk of shame in last night’s clothes in front of Nathan Clayton. She cut around the front of the building and
had nearly reached the valet doors when she saw Enrique wheel-
ing luggage to a land rover. Her lugs turned to rubber when she
saw Christopher trailing him, his phone to his ear. Stephanie had the overwhelming urge to run.
I may as well have a neon sign flashing the word Whore
over my head. Joy.
She was about to turn around the way she came when Chris-
topher looked in her direction. His phone remained firmly to his ear, but he eyed her up and down.
“We’ll discuss this further when I get back. Cheers.” He
hung up. Steph inhaled deeply, unsure where to begin. Christo-
pher pulled an envelope out of his inside jacket pocket. “This is my resignation. I’m handing you over to Debz. She’s not a shark, like I am, and she’s a bit unorthodox, but then, so are you. You should get along quite nicely.”
“Chris, I’m sorry.” She could feel her skin growing splotchy
as it always did when she was embarrassed. He held up a hand to
stop her.
“Don’t be sorry. From the beginning I knew you weren’t
over him. I’m the one who jumped in with both feet. I knew bet-
ter, and I ignored my instincts. Shame on me.” Enrique appeared
at his side, gracing Stephanie with a disapproving sneer. She narrowed her eyes at him and then turned back to Christopher.
“I need to say something to you,” Steph said, grabbing his
arm as he turned away. He stopped and looked down at her hand
neutrally. Pulling off his sunglasses, he looked down at her with his game face firmly in place. “You’ve been a damn good agent,
Christopher, and a hell of a friend. You pulled me out of a very 204
RAGE
dark place and whether you believe it or not, I’ll be forever
grateful to you.”
Christopher chewed on the corner of his lip as if rolling her
statement around to get the feel of it. He nodded slowly, his eyes flitting briefly to her face. He hid it well, but the hurt under his polished surface shamed her. Without another word, he climbed
into the passenger seat.
Steph watched as his Land Rover sped away and disap-
peared behind the tree line. Her phone rang again, and when she
saw it was Cheyenne again, she didn’t bother to answer it. In-
stead, she hurried in the direction of her room.
Phillip couldn’t contain the swagger in his step as he wan-
dered into the dining area and plopped down into a chair next to Nathan. With only the band members present for breakfast, it
was surprisingly quiet in the dining room. Across from him, Bret looked like the human equivalent of a dried apple, and David,
who for the first time in recorded history looked frayed around
the edges, was shoving a water glass in front of Bret and waving the waitress over for coffee refills. Scot turned to Phillip, his coffee cup halfway to his lips.
“Good day, sunshine.” Scot mused. Phillip felt his face
break into a huge smile.
Nathan lit a cigarette, eyeing Phillip with suspicion and
amusement. “I heard you had a guest last night. Looks like your
little visit was… invigorating.”
Bret chugged his glass of water, winced, and said “Do tell.”
Phillip paused, casting a reluctant eye around at his brothers
in arms. “Stephanie and I worked things out.”
“‘Bout bloody time!” David didn’t look up from the phone
he was franticly texting on. Bret snorted and pulled a five pound 205
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
note out of his pocket and flung it at David, who stuffed it in his pocket without looking up from his text. Nathan groaned and
reached for his wallet. Scot grinned like a fool and motioned for him to keep the money coming.
“Fork it over, bitch.”
Phillip gaped in shock, but never lost his grin. “You wa-
gered on us?”
Scot fixed him with a mock withering glance and a wicked
grin. “Get over it.”
“Relax. Phil. We didn’t wager on whether or not you’d
sleep with Steph. That would be ridiculous. We just wagered on
when,” Nathan replied. “Bret and I said after the wed-
ding…David and Scot said before. They’re optimists.”
Scot grinned. “And winners, it seems.”
“I never win anything,” Bret snapped, downing more cof-
fee.
“Boo hoo.” David snapped, running a hand through his
short dark hair.
“Cheer up bloke,
