never have been her. She and Tyler had never been openly demonstrative, preferring to kiss in private. Or had that been mostly on Tylerâs part?
Jenna frowned.
Sawyer had kissed her in front of the other couple, something Tyler would never have done willingly. Then again, Sawyer had been playing the part of the newlywed who couldnât keep from kissing his bride.
Jenna bet he wouldnât be a prude about open displays of affection with the woman he loved. Which made her think. âBy the way, are you married?â she whispered.
Sawyer had taken a step out of the elevator into the lobby. He ground to a stop, and the elevator nearly closed before Jenna could get out.
At the last second, he grabbed her hand and tugged, dragging her through the door and into his arms. He bent to kiss her firmly on the mouth and then trailed a line of kisses up to her earlobe. âI might not be the best boyfriend material,â he whispered into her ear.
His warm breath sent shivers of awareness throughout her body.
âBut I wouldnât kiss another woman if I were married.â He kissed her again on the mouth. âSatisfied?â
Satisfied? Hardly. One kiss didnât seem to be enough with this man. She might never be satisfied. If it had been a different situation, she might demand more kisses to see if she finally grew tired of them.
She couldnât imagine that ever happening.
Sawyer straightened and glanced around behind the relative anonymity of the mirrored sunglasses and ball cap.
Meanwhile, Jennaâs body trembled. She feared she might have melted into the floor if Sawyer hadnât been holding her around the waist.
âWe should check with the concierge to see if your bag has arrived from the airport,â Sawyer said.
âYes. My bag.â Jennaâs cheeks burned. Did she sound that airheaded? The SEALâs kisses made her forget everything, including the fact that a gunman was after him.
An image of the sniper-rifle parts flashed through her mind, bringing her back to reality. Sawyer was in danger. She needed to focus on him and keeping him safe.
âOver here.â Jenna led him toward the registration counter. To the side of the long counter was the conciergeâs desk. Jenna couldnât help but stare at every man they passed and wonder if he was the assassin.
The gray-haired man with the handlebar mustache could be an undercover assassin. Who would suspect an older guy? And the mustache would make it hard to run facial-recognition software on him. He could be a highly experienced assassin with a long list of kills in his lifetime.
The man in the khaki slacks and pale blue polo shirt could be a master at blending in. Was he staring at them? Jenna tried not to stare back, watching him from the corner of her eye until theyâd passed him. A shiver of awareness trickled down her back. Was he the one?
Intent on studying the man in the blue polo shirt, Jenna bumped into someone else. âPardon me,â she said and scooted out of the way of a man with light brown hair and gray eyes. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt and seemed slightly familiar, but not in a distinct wayâmore as if sheâd seen a hundred similar guys before.
Her gaze shifted to the sandy-blond-haired gentleman wearing jeans, a button-up white shirt and cowboy boots. He could have learned to fire expertly on a ranch in west Texas. Jennaâs imagination concocted all sorts of scenarios, and she didnât see the woman until she ran into her hard enough to knock her own purse out of her hand.
âIâm so sorry,â the woman said. âI can be pretty clumsy.â She dropped to her haunches to help Jenna retrieve the contents of her purse.
Jenna bent to gather a pen, a tube of lipstick and her luggage receipts. âNo, it was my fault. I should watch where Iâm going.â When she straightened, she smiled at the woman with the long dark hair pulled back in a neat,
Jenna frowned.
Sawyer had kissed her in front of the other couple, something Tyler would never have done willingly. Then again, Sawyer had been playing the part of the newlywed who couldnât keep from kissing his bride.
Jenna bet he wouldnât be a prude about open displays of affection with the woman he loved. Which made her think. âBy the way, are you married?â she whispered.
Sawyer had taken a step out of the elevator into the lobby. He ground to a stop, and the elevator nearly closed before Jenna could get out.
At the last second, he grabbed her hand and tugged, dragging her through the door and into his arms. He bent to kiss her firmly on the mouth and then trailed a line of kisses up to her earlobe. âI might not be the best boyfriend material,â he whispered into her ear.
His warm breath sent shivers of awareness throughout her body.
âBut I wouldnât kiss another woman if I were married.â He kissed her again on the mouth. âSatisfied?â
Satisfied? Hardly. One kiss didnât seem to be enough with this man. She might never be satisfied. If it had been a different situation, she might demand more kisses to see if she finally grew tired of them.
She couldnât imagine that ever happening.
Sawyer straightened and glanced around behind the relative anonymity of the mirrored sunglasses and ball cap.
Meanwhile, Jennaâs body trembled. She feared she might have melted into the floor if Sawyer hadnât been holding her around the waist.
âWe should check with the concierge to see if your bag has arrived from the airport,â Sawyer said.
âYes. My bag.â Jennaâs cheeks burned. Did she sound that airheaded? The SEALâs kisses made her forget everything, including the fact that a gunman was after him.
An image of the sniper-rifle parts flashed through her mind, bringing her back to reality. Sawyer was in danger. She needed to focus on him and keeping him safe.
âOver here.â Jenna led him toward the registration counter. To the side of the long counter was the conciergeâs desk. Jenna couldnât help but stare at every man they passed and wonder if he was the assassin.
The gray-haired man with the handlebar mustache could be an undercover assassin. Who would suspect an older guy? And the mustache would make it hard to run facial-recognition software on him. He could be a highly experienced assassin with a long list of kills in his lifetime.
The man in the khaki slacks and pale blue polo shirt could be a master at blending in. Was he staring at them? Jenna tried not to stare back, watching him from the corner of her eye until theyâd passed him. A shiver of awareness trickled down her back. Was he the one?
Intent on studying the man in the blue polo shirt, Jenna bumped into someone else. âPardon me,â she said and scooted out of the way of a man with light brown hair and gray eyes. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt and seemed slightly familiar, but not in a distinct wayâmore as if sheâd seen a hundred similar guys before.
Her gaze shifted to the sandy-blond-haired gentleman wearing jeans, a button-up white shirt and cowboy boots. He could have learned to fire expertly on a ranch in west Texas. Jennaâs imagination concocted all sorts of scenarios, and she didnât see the woman until she ran into her hard enough to knock her own purse out of her hand.
âIâm so sorry,â the woman said. âI can be pretty clumsy.â She dropped to her haunches to help Jenna retrieve the contents of her purse.
Jenna bent to gather a pen, a tube of lipstick and her luggage receipts. âNo, it was my fault. I should watch where Iâm going.â When she straightened, she smiled at the woman with the long dark hair pulled back in a neat,
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