A shadow extended from behind the cardboard sign. Ricky turned his head to follow my gaze, his eyes narrowed. Then he caught my chin in one hand, pulling my face back to his, kissing me again, and I could feel the determination there, the lust and the need and the resolve not to let anything get in our way. Except . . . well, while I’m not one to let the words “public place” stop me from having sex, I’m no exhibitionist, either, and neither was Ricky, and even as he kissed me, we’d both slowed, our attention pulled down that hallway.

“I’ll get this,” he muttered.

He fastened his belt with an angry snap of the leather and strode around the sign. Then, “What the fucking hell?”

I smoothed my skirt and hurried after him as CJ said, “I think the hotel is that way.”

“No fucking—”

“Your dad called,” Wallace cut in as I caught up. They were both standing there, bags at their feet, as if patiently waiting for us to finish.

“I know,” Ricky said, his words brittle. “And since when am I not allowed ten fucking minutes to call him back?”

“We weren’t interrupting,” CJ said. “We were going to give you time—”

“He needs us at the clubhouse,” Wallace said. “Something came up. Something urgent.”

Ricky’s jaw worked until he finally looked Wallace in the eye and said, in a deceptively soft voice, “Is it urgent, Wallace? Is it really?”

“That’s what he said, and that’s all he said. He called right after you left, so we came after you and saw you duck into the hallway here.”

“Oh, to be that young again.” CJ thumped Ricky on the shoulder. “We can give you two a few minutes. We’ll stand guard.”

“No,” I murmured. “That’s okay. Let’s go.”

Spontaneous sex in an airport was one thing. An efficient quickie really wasn’t the same.

Ricky let CJ and Wallace lead the way.

“I’m sorry,” he said when they were out of earshot.

“It’s okay.”

“No, goddamn it, Liv, it’s not. My father needed me to suddenly take his place on a trip to Miami, and I went, even though I knew damned well he was only testing to see if I’d complain about leaving you. Then yesterday, when you were sick, I checked to see if I could catch an earlier flight back and he said no. I didn’t argue. Now this? There’s no emergency. He’s snapping my leash. Yes, he’s not just my dad, he’s my boss, and I’ve always respected that. I don’t ask for special treatment or shirk my responsibilities—”

“I know that. He knows that.”

“Then why—” He bit the sentence off with a shake of his head. “You don’t need to hear me bitching ten minutes after I get back. I’m sorry.”