He chuckled. “How about you? Do you have a thing for me?”
She shook her head and he frowned.
“No. I mean, I do,” she answered. “I mean... Oh, I’m making a mess of this. I told you what my life is like. I don’t have time to have a thing for anyone. My schedule is insane. Crazy busy.”
He shrugged. “This is how you let guys like me down easy, right? I get it. You’re out of my league. It’s okay.”
“No, you’re not. If anything, the opposite is true. I just don’t want to lead you on or set up some kind of expectation. And so we’re clear, I want you. I just probably shouldn’t.”
“I told you before, I’m okay with getting to know each other. No pressure.”
She smiled. “Guys always say that, and then they wonder why I’m not available twenty-four seven. I mean, I know I’m projecting. But the last couple of guys I dated—you’re nothing like them. I get it. But I don’t want to set up any false expectations. I pretty much live for my next appointment. Tonight is a luxury I don’t normally allow myself. But it’s for a good cause, and I’ve made some excellent networking contacts. Plus, we helped the kids, so it’s all good.”
“Uh, I don’t have any expectations,” he said. His brows drew together. “I simply want to spend some time with you. Maybe where we aren’t in a store, or in a fancy ballroom with two hundred very loud women.”
She’d noticed that he’d rub his temples now and then. Did he have a headache? Was the noise getting to him?
“Are you okay?” She was worried that maybe he’d been suffering all night and she hadn’t been aware.
“What? Why would you ask that?”
“You were rubbing your head earlier. And Megan told me she was worried you were having a panic attack before you came out, but then you strutted down that catwalk like you owned the place, so she figured that maybe you were just preparing.”
He pulled her tighter, and she liked feeling him pressing into her. She liked it a lot. “I’m fine. Sometimes noise gets to me a little. It’s not that big of a deal. Though, I could have used some ibuprofen a couple of hours ago.”
Oh, no. He didn’t feel well.
The noise, between the music and the chatter, had been deafening most of the night. Poor guy. And he’d acted like it wasn’t an issue.
“Would you like to take a break? I know somewhere we could go and it’s quiet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What about your mom and her friends?”
“The party is dying down. They’ll be fine.” She hadn’t lied. Most of the attendees were gathering their things. “If it makes you feel better, we can go say a quick goodbye. I’ll tell them I’m the one with the headache and you’re taking me home. What they don’t know is home is a lot closer than they think. In less than five minutes, it will be superquiet and I also have something for your head.”
He let go of her immediately. “Really? A couple of aspirin or something and even twenty minutes of quiet and I’ll be good as new. That’s a great plan. Let’s do that.”
This time she was the one who chuckled.
They said their goodbyes quickly, although she felt like her mom might have held on a little too long when she’d hugged Ben, but soon after they were headed out of the ballroom.
He started to lead her to the front of the lobby, but she grabbed his hand.
“This way,” she said, pulling him to the elevator.
He frowned again. “I thought we were leaving.”
“No, I said I wanted you to take me home and I promised you quiet. I always get a room the night of this event in case I drink a little too much. So tonight, home is on the top floor of this hotel. Come on. We can raid the minibar. Dinner seems like a million years ago and I’m starving.”
She had no idea what she was doing or why she was taking him up to her hotel room.
Right. You have no idea. Okay, so alone time didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world. And maybe her sister’s words about having a good time were sinking it. This guy wasn’t like anyone she’d ever dated. He’d even told her that he had no expectations.
And I really want to know more about that tattoo on his chest.
“You’re okay with this, right? Going up to my room?”
He didn’t argue, just followed her onto the elevator. A couple women joined them and gave her knowing looks. She didn’t care.
She was taking her sister’s advice and was about to get happy with a hot Marine, or at the very least, kiss one.
The warmth coursing through her body didn’t lie, though. It was looking forward to so much more.
THE ROOM HAD floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the beach. Ben walked onto the balcony to listen to the calming waves. He was curious if he’d missed some kind of signal because Ainsley was all over the place with them. One minute she was talking about touching his abs—which he was, for the record, perfectly fine with—and the next she was telling him how she didn’t want to get involved with anyone. That she didn’t have time to date.
And then she’d invited him to her room. So he could have some peace and quiet and raid the minibar.
Ben was more than a little confused. Usually he kept things pretty simple with women. They had a good time, slept together and then that was that.
With Ainsley, well, it was complicated.
But he did welcome the quiet. He was embarrassed that Megan had told her about his breathing exercises backstage. That was something no one, except some of his closest friends, knew about. The waves were a lot more relaxing than the sounds in the ballroom and his shoulders felt like they’d dropped at least an inch, maybe two.
Inhaling the salty air, he closed his eyes.
Heaven. This thing with Ainsley, whatever it was—he’d let her lead the way. Maybe she was just as confused as he was. Given how she’d acted in the elevator, he had a feeling she wasn’t in the habit of asking guys to her room.
He heard the faucet in the bathroom turn on. She’d gathered some clothes and gone into the bathroom to change.
He remembered he was supposed to be finding them drinks in the minibar, which was better stocked than most of his friends’ kitchens.
Certainly better stocked that his. He’d moved into his apartment right before Thanksgiving. Then they’d been sent to Germany for a training mission. And since he was hardly ever at home, except to sleep, he hadn’t done anything with it, or bought much food. It was the first place of his own. For years he’d been living on base, or military housing, but he’d always had roommates. He preferred sending his money home to help out.
But last year, his mom had finished her nursing degree and had a great job. She refused to take his money, though she allowed him to contribute to his sister’s college fund. She was also paying him back for the house he’d bought them a few years ago.
He didn’t need the money, so he put it in savings with the hope that some day he might settle down and get a place of his own. But that was a few years away. He had his eyes on making colonel, so he had to focus on the Marine Corps for now.
“You were drinking champagne—do you want that or something else?” he asked Ainsley, who was still in the bathroom.
“What do you want?”
You. But he didn’t want to sound