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But the temptation to see her was mouth-wateringly strong. All he could think about was the feel of her hand tucked into his arm as they had walked into the hotel. Of her secretive smile, as though she knew things he didn’t. Of the way she felt when she shuddered with orgasm, triggering his own.
He deserved answers around why she’d misrepresented herself, didn’t he?
That was a rationalization.We all trick ourselves, she’d said, and he’d come to realize how very insightful she was.
He looked to the calendar. He was due down the hall here at the New York office less than forty-eight hours from now, but he had turned around a flight to London in less before.
He had Willow rearrange his lesser appointments and file a flight plan, then texted her.
A card will be waiting under the name Norma at the concierge. Come to my hotel room at four p.m.
Time crawled, but after a heavy morning of dull meetings, he was in his hotel room, nursing a scotch while he waited. He was half expecting some enterprising reporter would turn up, but when the knock sounded and the mechanism released, Fliss entered.
He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t her in a pink plaid skirt suit, black knee-high boots and a beret. It was cute as hell and had his gaze dragging itself from the glimpse of her thighs below the fall of pleats to the way her short jacket emphasized the nip of her waist and the generous swells of her breasts.
His inner Neanderthal instantly awoke.Mine.
Her features were mostly hidden by oversize sunglasses and a lipstick that had been applied to change the shape of her mouth. She pressed the door firmly closed behind her and stayed against it, hand on the latch.
“Hello.” She leaned to set his room card on the nearby table. “Thank you for seeing me. I won’t stay long.”
She looked and sounded nervous, but he would swear her gaze was traveling all over him. He felt it as viscerally as the way her hands had skimmed across his skin when they’d last been in this room together.
Don’t.
“Are you into role-play?” he drawled. “Is that why you’re dressed like a hired assassin from a time-travel movie?”
“That’s exactly what I am,” she said without missing a beat. “I thought it would take more to convince you.”
Damn. He didn’t want to find her amusing. There was too much at stake.
“Take off your sunglasses. I want to see your face.”
She complied, fumbling them slightly as she slipped them into a pocketbook hanging from a long strap over her shoulder. She lifted a frown of consternation to him.
“I actually made this for my interviews at—” She brushed the side of her skirt, making the pleats flutter. “Doesn’t matter. I came to London to sell all the clothes I made, but I needed something to wear into this hotel that would blend in. Iama designer. I’m just not paid professionally for it.”
“You’re also a maid. Or you were, until they realized you have sticky fingers.”
“It wasinthebin,” she said as though she was tired of repeating that. “Delia Chevron threw twenty-five thousand poundsinto the bin. I thought it was a ticket for dinner and hoped to network or get some publicity for my work. Do you think at any point through all of this nightmare that one single pap has asked me who made my gown? Believe me, I’ve come to regret the whole escapade.” She waved an arm in a wide circle.
“Me, too,” he said, stung more deeply than he’d expected by that wordregret.
She dropped her arm and her mouth pouted with injury, as though that particular word had landed just as hard for her.
Then she set her jaw and lifted her chin.
“Don’t pin what happened onto me. I changed my mind about that gala before you’d even spoken to me. You dragged me there, throwing me to them as ‘fresh meat to chew on.’ Do you know that I thought I was on a date?” She tapped where the pretty yellow lace of her camisole peeked between her lapels. “You might have explained that I was yourpaid escort. Who the hell sends a woman earrings worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds foronenight together? I wasn’t that good, Saint.”
He would beg to differ but only ran his tongue across his teeth.
“Why didn’t you text me sooner?” he asked.
“Because you cost me my job and set the hounds of hell upon me. Thanks. Sign me up for more of that. I can’t wait.”
This was going well. He ran his hand down his face, trying to reset.
“I should have dealt with Julie sooner, instead of giving her an opportunity to feed off your story. That wasn’t fair to you.”
