Meg’s lips quirked. “I’m sure it does.”
“Has it ever happened to you?”
“Nope.”
He chuckled, the sound a rich, deep rumble. “You could have lied. I was almost feeling better.”
“Sorry.” Meg laughed. “Sucks to be you.”
His eyes widened at that comment and an outright laugh burst from his chest, making the muscles dance across his abdomen. “Yes, right now, it does sorta suck to be me,” he admitted. He extended his hand. “I’m Nick Devereau, by the way.”
“Desiree Moon.” Meg didn’t even hesitate. The lie rolled off her tongue before she’d even realized she’d said it. She didn’t know what exactly had possessed her to do that, but it felt incredibly liberating. Wicked. That settled it, Meg decided. For this week only, she would be Desiree Moon and all that persona entailed. A delightful quiver eddied through her.
She took his hand, felt the warm masculine palm dwarf her smaller one. A zing sparkled up her spine at the contact. Swift. Tingling. Hot.
An intriguing grin claimed his lips and an equally intriguing glint stewed in his sexy, heavy-lidded caramel gaze. “It’s a pleasure,” he murmured.
Oy. Indeed it was.
A brisk knock sounded at the door, breaking the charged silence.
Meg withdrew her sensitized hand and straightened, reluctant to see him go now that she’d decided to pursue the life of her alter ego. “That’ll be for you.”
He stood as well and followed her across the room. All the while she was aware of his scrutiny. She could feel that hot stare. It made her all shivery inside.
Meg opened the door so that he could meet the bellhop in the hallway. He paused, then leaned toward her, bringing his tantalizing scent with him. “Thanks, again.”
Meg resisted the urge to chew her nail. To bite her fist. “You’re welcome.”
He turned to go, but seemingly thought better of it and swung back to face her. “Look, could we get a drink later?”
Delight bloomed in her chest, resulting in a small smile. “Sure. Just knock.” She gestured toward the connecting door.
He grinned. “Until then.”
Meg leaned against the open doorway as he left, once again mesmerized by his sheer physical beauty. That back. Mercy. Hmm-hmm-hmm. That ass.
Meg straightened, horror dawning.
That ass…had her bra dangling from it.
The hooks had gotten caught in the cloth.
Meg darted out into the hall just as the bellhop planted the key card into the lock. Nick started at her abrupt appearance, then smiled. “Desiree?”
“Nick, uhhh…”
He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
Meg tentatively moved toward him, her gaze darting to where her bra swung drunkenly from the towel. “I, uh…just wanted to let you know I’ll be back in my room by eight.”
He smiled. “Okay.”
The bellhop opened the door and Nick moved to go in. Meg lunged and attempted to covertly snatch her bra. The hook hung stubbornly, and to Meg’s slack-jawed astonishment, she not only managed to snag her bra—she snagged his towel as well.
Mortification momentarily burned her cheeks, robbed her of speech. Her gaze was riveted to the only part of his anatomy she’d been unable to properly peruse. Unable to control herself, her lips curled into an appreciative smile.
She’d been right.
He was definitely well proportioned.
3
“FLASHING HER, that’s a direct approach. Little forward if you aren’t going to seduce her.” Ron licked his forefinger, leaned forward and smoothed his eyebrows, then stood back and admired his Fonzie-like reflection. “Myself personally, I like to woo a woman.”
“Woo?”
“Yes, woo. It’s all part of the chase, the thrill of the hunt.”
“This is a woman, Ron. Not an elk, for chrissakes.” Dropping into the desk chair in his brother’s room, Nick exhaled wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He shuddered to think of what Ron considered wooing. A trip through a drive-thru, then back to his place to show off his lava lamp collection?
“So what’s she look like? She a hottie?”
A cloud of dark-chocolate hair, kiss-me mossy-green eyes, smooth skin and a mouth designed for sin flashed through Nick’s mind. The hair, the eyes and the skin were pleasing to look at, not remarkable on their own. But the mouth that tied it all together… Damn.
“She’s attractive,” Nick managed, feeling a telltale tightening in his groin.
Ron nodded, apparently satisfied with Nick’s assessment. “So, did you sense any interest? She hot for you yet?”
“She’s interested,” Nick said casually.
And though he had no intention of taking advantage of the situation, she was most definitely hot for him.
Out of all the uncertainties surrounding this scheme, Nick didn’t have a doubt about that one fact. She’d practically devoured him with her eyes. That bold green gaze had inventoried every inch of his exposed flesh…and then some.
Nick took care of his body, worked out regularly. He wasn’t ignorant of his build and the resulting effect it had on women. He’d been covertly studied before. But he’d never been so intensely scrutinized. Never felt a woman’s gaze like that.
Furthermore, when his towel had come off, she’d made no pretense of turning away. Her gaze had dropped to his male equipment, lingered, then she’d had the audacity to smile.
Appreciatively.
Nick found himself equally intrigued and baffled. Baffled because, while he’d gone into her room to set things into motion, he’d been the one knocked for a loop. He’d demonstrated an appalling lack of control, something he never permitted himself to do. Something that mustn’t happen again.
Ron grunted as he shoved a foot into his boot, pulling Nick from his reverie. “Listen, if you find anything out tonight that might be helpful, give me a call no matter what time. Keep me posted. I—I need to know what’s happening, okay? This is my future we’re trying to protect.”
“Sure,” Nick said, frowning at the desperation in Ron’s tone. Ron was very adept at playing him, Nick knew, but he seemed genuinely worried this time. Who knew with Ron? It could only be wishful thinking. “But I seriously doubt anything will happen tonight. We’re just meeting for drinks.”
Ron’s brow furrowed. “Whatever. Just call me. I’m meeting Cindy, but should be back by ten.”
“Cindy?”
Ron smiled. “The check-in clerk. I’m giving her some free samples.”
Nick’s brows rose. On that note, he decided to take his leave. He stood. Desiree had said she’d be back by eight, and it was pushing that now. “I’m gone,” Nick told him, heading for the door.
“Work your magic, big brother.” He paused, giving Nick a small glimpse of Ron’s more vulnerable side. “I’ve got a lot riding on this.”
That last statement lacked Ron’s trademark bravado and, for the first time, Nick detected a hint of fear in his brother’s voice. Ron was genuinely afraid of losing this business. Fear was the beginning of wisdom. Given that, perhaps the end would justify the means.
Nick