Page 2 of The Trouble with Flings

“Because your first time with anything should never be regular.” That earns a sexy smile that tells me she might have tucked away thoughts of our night together, but they’re not buried. I glance across the desk and say, “A first trip deserves a suite and an ocean view. Don’t you think, Valerie?”

“That would be my choice,” Valerie says.

“Then let’s do it,” I say. “Please book Ms. Stone in a suite worthy of a first trip, and put it on my account.”

“What?” Jennifer says. “I can pay for it myself, thank you.”

“I have no doubt that you can, but you came here expecting to have your room paid for, and now it’s done.” I lower my voice, leaning closer. “Save your argument for one you can win.”

Her eyes narrow.

“Valerie, please see to it that Ms. Stone’s needs are fully met during her stay.”

“Of course, Mr. Silver,” Valerie says.

I catch a slight shift in Jennifer’s posture, her chin lifting a fraction, as if she’s deciding how she feels about all of this. Actually, she looks like she wants to argue it further, but she won’t let herself. Is there a limit to the number of scenes women allow themselves daily? I’ve got two younger sisters and quickly realize that if there is such a limit, my sisters kicked it to the curb a long time ago. I’d imagine the feisty beauty before me demolished it at birth. Which means something else is going on in that beautiful head of hers.

“Here you are,” Valerie says, handing Jennifer the keycard to her suite and directing her to the elevator.

“Thank you,” Jennifer says as she takes the key card. “I’m sorry for being rude.”

Valerie smiles warmly. “It’s not a problem. I would be upset if I were in your situation, too. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

I nod in appreciation to Valerie, then reach for Jennifer’s bag, but she grabs it before I can. As we step away from the desk, she has the keycard in one hand, a death grip on her suitcase, and the furrowed brow of a woman calculating her independence. Which makes me wonder if her earlier expression wasn’t about wanting to argue with me but with herself.

“Thank you,” she says, still a little irritated. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I say evenly but not too gently, because I don’t want to rock that sexy pride of hers.

“I would have taken care of it,” she insists.

“I have no doubt. It’s just a room, Jennifer, and it’s not tied to any expectations.”

A relenting smile slides into place, and warmth sneaks into her voice. “I didn’t think it was. It’s just a little embarrassing that you heard all of that. I’ll pay you back.”

“It’s not a debt. It’s a favor. I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.”

“If you came here expecting to stay on your ex’s dime, I’d think twice,” she says sassily.

Her ex. That’s a situation I’d like to get to the bottom of. “Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Is that a question or a demand?” she challenges.

“I know better than to ask.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “And I only demand in the bedroom.”

Her eyes flame.

Oh yeah, you remember that sizzling night as well as I do. “Why don’t we call it an offer you know you want to accept?” I let her chew on that for a few seconds. “What do you say, Jennifer? Want to join me on the welcome dinner cruise for my conference?”

“A welcome dinner cruise? Now, that sounds exciting,” she teases. “Do I get to wear a name badge?”

“Sure,” I say with a grin. “It’ll say I’m with Silver.”

She laughs. “That’s not happening. What time?”

“Seven.”

“Seven,” she repeats, considering it. “You know, the last time I agreed to spend an evening with you, things got pretty intense.”