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Thirty minutes later, I’ve arranged for Adam to be given a key to the room, tipped well to have my key delivered to me, and I finally knot the navy pinstriped tie that I’m wearing today. I pull on the jacket that completes the three-piece ensemble, grab my briefcase, and head to the hallway, where I knock on Lori’s door.
She opens it immediately, her hair knotted at the back of her head, and I’m damn certain that the only thing that would hug her body better than the light blue suit dress she has on is my body. “Hi,” she says sweetly, almost shyly, her green eyes warm.
“Damn, woman,” I murmur, hard as fuck with no fuck in sight. “You really are beautiful.” I press my hand to the doorframe before I touch her. “Do you have any idea how much it’s going to destroy me to keep my hands to myself for nine fucking months?”
“Only in public and as you’ve already proven when you think no one is looking.”
I arch a brow. “Your point?”
“Only that I doubt it will be nine months.”
“Meaning what?” I ask.
“Nine months is a long time, Cole,” she says, her hand pressing on the wall opposite mine.
“You think this will fizzle out,” I say and it’s not a question. “You’re wrong, but that’s okay. You told me you’d expect the worst, and as long as we’ll be glad when I’m right this time all is well.”
“Yes,” she says softly. “It’s okay if you’re right and I’m wrong this time.”
“Good,” I say, and fuck, why am I looking at her mouth. I can’t kiss her. Not here. Not now. “I managed to get a suite for the interview, and the Walker Security team is securing it. The meeting with Tara is at ten now. Let’s go on up and order breakfast. I’m fucking starving, and since you’re not on the menu, at least right now, I’ll take bacon.”
“Me or bacon,” she laughs that soft, sexy musical laugh of hers that wreaks havoc on my willpower. “Glad to know I’m ahead of bacon,” she says. “Let me grab my purse and briefcase.” She steps back into the room and I catch the door, watching her enter the bedroom, that damn dress hugging her cute little ass that is presently off limits, before she turns back and walks toward me. I savor every damn step until she stops in front of me, close enough for me to inhale that floral scent she wears. I back up to allow her to exit before I end up inside with her. I punch the elevator button and we stand side-by-side, staring at the doors.
“Considering my preferred method of undressing you is temporarily off limits,” I say, without looking at her, “you’re going to have to tell me what’s under that dress.”
“I’m running short on panties,” she says, glancing over at me at the same moment I look at her. “Who says I have anything under it?”
“Don’t challenge me to break the rules,” I warn, turned the fuck on by this part of her that loves to challenge me.
“You’ll have to use your imagination, boss.”
My phone buzzes with a text message from Royce: My man is already in your room.
I text him a quick confirmation and then say, “Detour. We’re headed to a private suite that’s being cleared for our talk with Tara.”
“What about your bacon?”
“I’m getting my damn bacon,” I assure her. “We’ll order room service.”
The elevator dings, and we enter to find we’re not alone, and in fact we’re forced to squeeze into a corner. That pushes Lori’s body up against mine, and my hand settles on her lower back. It’s not a decision, but rather nature. I’ve never felt that with any other woman.
We’re the first to exit the car and I make sure I’m not touching Lori when we do. The suite is to our right and down a private walkway. I wave the keycard in front of the door and offer the second key to Lori. “Isn’t us in a hotel room a problem?” she asks.
“We’re doing our jobs, sweetheart.” I shove the door open. “And we’re not alone. One of the Walker staff is here.” Lori enters the room and I follow to find we’re now standing inside a living room wrapped with windows, complete with two couches facing each other, a television to the left and a desk to the right.
“Hello,” I call out, and only a few beats later, a familiar thirty-something man, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, appears from down a hallway to join us.
“Cole Brooks,” he says, his dark, wavy hair a wayward mess, while nothing else about this man is even close to a mess. “Good to see you man,” he adds, glancing at Lori. “I’m Adam, ma’am.”
“Lori Havens,” Lori says. “I’m Cole’s—”
“Associate,” I supply for his benefit before she calls herself an intern. And then to her, “Adam’s some sort of badass ex-Navy SEAL,” I say. “He did leg work on Jerome Knight’s case for me, and fuck, I haven’t called Jerome.” I glance at Adam. “Are we ready?”
“I setup an interview room and camera in the dining room.” He motions to the hallway to his left.
I glance at Lori. “Can you make sure we’re good while I call Jerome?”
“Of course,” she says, hurrying toward Adam.
