Michael interrupted when he knocked on the door. “Detective Samuel is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.”
Isabel, wrapped in a robe, ran to the door and opened it. “I can’t go to the station for another interview now. Make him understand, Michael. I can’t imagine what other questions he has. Surely he can wait until . . .” She finally noticed that Michael was shaking his head. “What is it?”
“He wants to ask a favor.”
She took Michael’s phone but held it against her chest as she whispered, “Did you tell him I can’t go to the station?”
“Yes. I told him.”
Frowning at Michael, she answered the phone. “Hello, Detective Samuel. What can I do for you?”
The detective hemmed and hawed, and she could hear what sounded like excited teenagers screaming in the background.
“I just found out that you will be performing with XO tonight. Is that correct?”
She automatically straightened her shoulders at the sound of his voice. “Yes,” she answered, wondering how he had heard.
“I really hate to ask, but my daughters are big fans of yours, and when they heard that you will be singing with XO . . . Hold on,” he said.
She could tell he’d cupped his hand over the phone because his voice was muffled, but she could still hear him ordering his daughters to quiet down.
“Are you there, Isabel?”
She decided to get to the point for him. “How many tickets do you need?”
“Three,” he told her, relief in his voice.
“Okay. I’m sure Xavier has a few extras. They’ll be at the will-call window for you. If you run into any problems, contact Michael. He’s going with me, and he’ll have his phone with him.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Before he could end the call, she blurted, “Wait. I’d like to ask you a question.”
“Yes?”
“Have you learned why Walsh was in Boston?”
“We’re working on it,” he replied. “Walsh still isn’t awake.”
“Yes, I know. I talked to the nurse on duty this morning. She told me his stats are improving, and they expect him to wake up anytime now.” She noticed Michael smiled when she told the detective that she’d talked to the nurse.
“I’ll keep you informed,” Samuel promised.
Isabel thanked him and ended the call. Handing the phone back to Michael, she said, “Please don’t let me forget. Detective Samuel needs three tickets.”
“Shall we get back to work?” Regan suggested. She pulled Isabel back into the bedroom, smiled at Michael, and shut the door in his face.
The transformation continued. The blue sequined top was more low-cut than Isabel remembered, but Vera made sure it wouldn’t shift or slip, no matter how much Isabel moved.
Regan tried to ease her concerns. “It isn’t a plunging neckline. It’s just that you’re a bit overendowed,” she explained. “Now stop worrying about it. You’re very decent. Why, you could wear that top to church.”
Isabel laughed. “And get hit by lightning.”
She was prodded back into the chair by one of the stylists, who insisted on wrapping a flesh-colored bandage around her upper arm to hide her stitches. Isabel didn’t object, although she thought it wasn’t necessary since she’d be wearing the jacket.
While they were working on her, she received three phone calls from the extremely annoying James Reid. She ignored all of them, sending the calls to voicemail. He wasn’t giving up. If he thought he could wear her down and persuade her to sell Glen MacKenna land to his Patterson Group just to be rid of him and stop his harassment, he was mistaken. In fact, the opposite was happening.
Each time he called, she became more inclined to sell the property to anyone but him.
“Isabel, the hairstylist wants your attention,” Regan said when Isabel didn’t answer a question.
Back to the business of trying to turn her into a superstar. “Are we almost finished?”
“Almost,” Regan assured her.
Regan packed her heels and other necessities and carried the bag into the living room. Worried she had forgotten something Isabel might need, Regan paced in front of the windows while she went over the list again and again.
Nick and Noah had arrived, and they, along with Michael and Alec, watched her pace until Alec finally anchored her with his arm around her shoulders.
A few seconds later the hotel phone rang. Regan rushed to answer it. “Limo’s here,” she announced. “Should we hurry Isabel along?”
“No,” Michael answered. “She’ll come out when she’s ready.”
“Unless she makes a run for it,” Alec said.
Michael grinned. “I already thought of that possibility, but this is the only way out of the bedroom, and the windows don’t open this high up.”
Ten minutes passed, then ten more, and finally the bedroom doors opened, and Isabel, transformed for the stage, walked into the living room.
Regan gasped when she saw her. “You’re stunning, Isabel.”
With all the work done on her, she should be stunning, she thought. “Thank you.”
The men were gaping at her, and she immediately felt self-conscious. After a long minute of silence she decided to use everyone’s favorite go-to command. “Snap out of it.”
Michael spoke up. “Are you ready to leave? The driver’s here.”
Since he was closest, she handed him her room card and her cell phone. Nick carried the garment bag Regan had packed.
“We’ll see you there,” Regan called from the doorway. “If you need anything, text me.”
Fortunately, the elevator was empty. When the doors closed, she turned to her three escorts.
“Thank you for giving up your Friday night to help me.”
“We’re not giving anything up, Isabel,” Noah told her. “We want to be here.”
Flanked by Noah and Michael, Isabel crossed the lobby, and Nick followed behind.
Michael was proud of her. He knew she was scared, but she wasn’t letting it show now. She walked like she owned the world. There was such attitude in the way she moved, and those hips . . .
damn. Then he noticed he wasn’t the only one appreciating Isabel. It seemed to him that every man in the lobby was watching her, and why wouldn’t they? She was beautiful and desirable.
Great. Hell if he wasn’t lusting after her again.
“Michael?” She whispered his name.
“Yes?”
“Stop glaring.”
Her hand brushed against his. She didn’t grab hold. He did. He slipped his fingers through hers and gave her a little squeeze.
“I’ve got your bottle of water,” he told her, then turned to take the bottle from Nick. “This is all you drink. Understand? You don’t drink anything anyone else gives you.”
She thought he was being a little overprotective and suspicious, but then she noticed Noah was nodding agreement.
“You’re going to be okay,” Michael said. He leaned down and whispered, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”