Chapter 6
“You can wrap the blanket around yourself.” Henry nodded at the picnic blanket.
Trying not to look at the wet patch at the crotch of my jeans, I curled my legs to the side. “Great. I’ll look like a hobo.”
“A gorgeous hobo.”
I tugged on my bra, T-shirt, and jacket and wrapped my scarf around my neck.
“Want an Iced VoVo?” He held forward a packet of cookies.
“What?” I giggled.
“I know they’re your favorite.” He tore the packet open, and I accepted one.
“Tea? I brought green tea. That’s right, isn’t it?”
A warm sense of appreciation flooded through me.
He held the mug up and handed it to me. “Cows.”
My jaw dropped. The mug had little black-and-white cows dancing across a green paddock. No man had ever given me such a thoughtful gift, and I had to force back a swell of emotion that threatened to produce tears. “Wow,” I finally said. “You sure know how to please a woman.”
He wriggled his eyebrows. “Thank you, Memphis Jane.”
Henry was very observant, more so than any other man in my life had ever been, and yet we’d only been together for probably five hours, maximum. I nibbled on the cookie and drank the tea, and at every opportunity, I glanced at my suave tutor, taking in every laugh line and every gray fleck in his dark hair. Henry was the epitome of the sexy older man. If I wasn’t careful, I couldprobablyfall in love with him.
Was that such a bad thing?
I had no idea.
I needed toget my mind offthat subject.“So,” I said, placing my cup on the blanket, “what happened between you and Kim?”
“They just stopped coming.” He shrugged. “No idea where she went.”
I bulged my eyes. “You didn’t getherpregnant, did you?”
“No. No, I sawherthe Easter after that, butthennever again. By God, we were lucky though. Damn foolish, what we did.”
I had vivid memories of my panic after I lost my virginity to Will Appen. Yes, we’d been drunk, but that was no excuse for unprotected sex. To this day, I still wonder whether or not Will and Iactuallyhad sex and if that was the reason why I hadn’t fallen pregnant. Otherwise, it’d just been dumb luck.
“Come on.” Henry climbed to his feet. “We better get you home so you can get some sleep.”
His comment had weariness gripping me in a flash. I allowed him to pull me upright, and I stood aside, trying to ignore the discomfort between my legs as he packed up our things.He dragged the blanket awayand shookthe sand off it and thenhewrapped it around my shoulders.
I followed his lead back to the car and wrapped the blanket around my legs as I wriggled into the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat, started the car, and reversed out.
“Thank you for a wonderful morning.”
He ran his hand along my thigh. “Thank you, too.”
We drovein silence, and I must have fallen asleep because it seemed like only minutes before we pulled into the drop-off zone at the Hot Horizon Hotel.
He came around, opened the doorfor me, and helped me out.
Oh jeez. How am I going to get past reception without showing my wet patch?
I must have screwed up my face or something because Henry adjusted the blanket over my shoulders. “I think you’re going to need this.”
I frowned. “You don’t want it?”
“No. It’s all yours. Looks sexier on you anyway.”
“Haha.”
He kissed my cheek, grabbed my shoulders, turned me toward the front steps, and smacked my butt. “Go on. Off to bed.”
Iwaddledaway. “Sounds like you’re sending me to the naughty corner.”
He laughed. “Maybe I am.”
I tried to look elegant as I walked up the stairs with my legs apart, and when the sliding glass doors opened, I was horrified to see Needledick walking from the elevator on his way to the reception desk. I inwardly cringed as Iscurriedtoward the elevator.
“Hi, Jane.”
“Oh, hi.” I faked a shiver. “It’s freezing out there.”
He frowned. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”
I jabbed the elevator button. “Yeah, sure is. I’d advise against going out.”
He looked toward the glass doors, and I turned to see sunshine withnot awhisper of breeze to move the palm fronds and five girls walking along in bikinis.
Needledick turned back to me, frowning.
I shivered again. “Brrr.”
The elevator opened, and I jumped in and jabbed the button for my floor ten times. I let out a huge sigh when the doors closed, and the elevator made the slow trip up to my level.
Atmy room, I undressed, showered, brushed my teeth, and put on winter flannel pajamas, thenstrolled to my bed and reached for my diary.
I turned to the 13th of July and wrote, Henry Addison. As I thought about our wonderful morning and what I’d learned about him, I wrote, Kiss and Tell beneath his name.
Once again, I lined the pages with details about Henry’s miracle hands and how he could make me orgasm while barely touching me.
Why was that? Was it because I trusted him completely? Was it because hereallywas a skilled master? Was it because he was no longer a stranger, and I knew what miracles he could perform?
I had no idea.
But there was one thing I did know.
If Henrycame back, I’d be ready and willing to see him again.
I put my diary aside, crawled under the quilt, grabbed my spare pillow, and hugged it to my chest. As exhaustion lulled me to sleep, I imagined the pillow in my arms was a man.
A man who would hug me every night and allow all my dreams to come true.
If one more thing goes wrong tonight, I’m going to scream.Usually, I liked to keep busy, but that didn’t mean having everything breakdown in one shift. With all the tiny bits of shredded paperthat I’dpulled from the printer now in the rubbish bin, I put the toner back into the machine and pressed the power button again. Holding my breath as I waited for it to complete its usual start-up process, I prayed thatthe paper jam was now fixed.
With a pretty little jingle, the printer finally announced it was ready, and I sighed with relief as I returned to my computer and hit ‘print’ for the fourth time.
When the reception phone rang, I glanced at the clock and cringed. A call from a guest at two in the morning could only indicate trouble. I forced friendliness into my voice and picked up the handset. “Hello, Mr. Harper, this is Jane Nichols, Night Manager. How can I help you?”
“Jane, I have no electricity up here.”
“Oh, that’s strange. Okay, I’ll be right up.”
I put the ‘back in five minutes’ sign on the counter, grabbed my master key card, and took the elevator to the eighth floor. All the lightswere workingin the hallway, which was a good sign. I knocked on the door to room forty-six, and a middle-aged man in checkered pajamas opened the door.His glasses sat on his head amongst his scrambled dark hair, anddespite the lack of room lighting,the scowl on his face was unmissable.
“It went out about half an hour ago. I’m still working here.” He pointed to a laptop screen that glowed in the dark.
I flicked the light switch near the entrance, and after the change in his stance, I instantly regretted it. With his hands on his hips, he stepped closer to me. “And . . . do you believe me now?”
“Of course, Mr. Harper. I have an electrician on the way,” I lied.
“Well, how long’s that going to take?”
“He’ll be here soon and?—”
“It’s not good enough.I need tohave this PowerPoint finishedbefore morning and my bloody laptop battery is pathetic.”
I shook my head. “Okay. I’ll move you to another room.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Great. Just great.”
I held up my index finger. “Give me a moment to check the vacant rooms, and I’ll be right back up.”
“So . . . I guess I’ll pack my things then.”
“That would be great. I’ll help you when I come back.”
To the sound of his grumbling, I dashed to the elevator. It opened immediately, and as I traveled down to the lobby, I wondered how I’d get an electrician at this time of night. The hotelwas fully bookedfor tomorrow, with mostof theguests coming early in the morning. I needed this fixed ASAP.
The doors opened, and I raced to the desk, checked the room vacancies, and noted that room forty-three was empty, just three doors up from Mr. Harper’s room. Iscurriedback to the elevator and returned to the eighth floor. I went to room forty-three first and confirmed that the lights worked. Satisfied, I strode to Mr. Harper’s door and knocked.
Hewas dressed, but that was all that had changed. His clenched jaw and furling fists highlighted his anger.
“Room forty-three is vacant down the hall. Let me help you, and we’ll have you settled againin no time.”
He shoved a small backpack at me. “Here, take that. I’ve packed everything up.” He had his laptop under his elbow and rolled a suitcase with his other hand.
I led the way to the new room, opened the door, and flicked on the lights. “There you go. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.” I placed his backpack on the dining table.
He rolled his suitcase in and hurled it onto the bed.
“Can I help you unpack, Mr. Harper?”
He sighed. “No, it’s fine. I just need to get this done.” His anger dissipated before my eyes.
“Okay. I’ll make sure we discount your room for you. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’m sorry I yelled.”
“Thank you for your understanding. I hope you get your PowerPoint finished.”
“No choice, I’m afraid. The boss needs it in”—he glanced at the clock on his laptop— “five hours.”
I knew what it was like to be under ridiculous pressure and felt for him. “Can I at least make you a coffee?”
He nodded. “Sure, that’d be great.”
Pleased that I could help, I strode to the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine. Mr. Harper sat at the table and began tapping away on his computer. I watched himin silenceas I waited for the coffee to drip into a mug. Unsure how he liked it, I placed a sugar satchel, a pod of milk, and a teaspoon next to the steaming black coffee and brought it to him. “Good luck.” I placed the cup next to his laptop.
He blinked up at me as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Thanks.”
I walked out of the room, and as I rode down in the elevator, I vowed that if I were ever under that kind of pressure in a job, I’d quit.
Back at reception, I focused on my new dilemma. I needed an electrician.
I scrolled down the list of emergency numbers pinned to the back of the reception desk, and next to electrician, was a card for Jackson Kane, 24/7 Electrician.Exactlywho I needed at this time of night.
I dialed his number and was surprised when he answered on the third ring.
“Hello, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Jane Nichols; I’m from the Hot Horizon Hotel.”
“Yes. Yes. I’ll be there.”
I did a double-take. “But I haven’t told you what?—”
“It’s okay. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” The phone purred, and it took me a few seconds to realize he’d hung up. As I stared at the handset, I wondered whatthe hell justhappened.I put the phone downand wentto the kitchen to make a cup of teaand waitfor his arrival.
A man came barreling in through the sliding glass doors twenty-five minutes later. He was short and stout but built like a footballer and had a wild mop of black curly hair and flushed cheeks. As he juggled his equipment, he nearly tripped over hisownfeet on his way to the reception counter.
“Hi.” I couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. “You must be Jackson Kane.”
He put his hands on the counter. “Yep, at your service.” He winked at me.
I nearly burst out laughing. “Thank you for coming.”
“No. No. Thank you for calling. To be honest, I never thought I’d get the call.”
I frowned. “What call?”
“The call from the Hot Horizon Hotel.” He was breathless, and as he ran his hand through the unruly mop of hair, I noticed the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. It looked as if he’d run a marathon to get here.
I tried to ignore his massive grin as I placed the ‘back in five minutes’ sign on the counter for the second time that night. “This way, please.”
He hoisted a heavy-looking metal box with one hand and carried an overloaded tool belt with the other.I had no idea why he wasn’t wearing itbutdidn’t bother asking. His tools jingled in timetohis steps as he matched my stride across the lobby.
As I pressed thebutton for the elevator, I turned to him, but he snapped his eyes away and fidgeted with the strap on his tool belt as we waited.
Maybe he downed a coffee or something before he got here.
The tool belt tumbled from his fingers, and the thundering sound echoed off the polishedsurfaces of the lobby.“Sorry. Sorry.”
Ashe bent down to pick it up, I studied his broad shoulders.Clearly,Jackson worked out.
“Are you okay?” I asked as he returned upright.
“Yep. Just excited.” His smile was model-worthy, with perfectly straight white teeth and lips like plump raspberries. His tongue flicked out as if he knew where I was looking.
I cocked my head. “About what exactly?”
The elevator pinged open, and we stepped inside.Heput the toolbox down and then caught my gaze. His lips curled at the sides, and when he winked again, I changed my stance, ready to kick him in the balls should he do anything weird.
“My mate Mickey was here a few months ago. He’s a plumber . . .” he trailed off.
My heart leaped to my throat as I remembered Mickey the Fixer. . . the smoking-hot plumber with the stunning model looks. I feigned confusion. “And?”
Jackson wriggled his eyebrows, and his fingers trembled as he tugged his shirt down. “You know . . .”
My clit purred as I pictured my top-model gorgeous plumber and the amazing orgasms I’d had by his hands. As my clenching insides made me squirm, I shook my head. “Umm, no, I don’t.”
Jackson squirmed, too, and aquickglance was all I needed to see the bulge in his shorts. This guy was horny as hell. And cute. And sexy, in an unassuming, guy-next-door kind of way. Heobviouslywanted Memphis soooobadly, andall of a sudden, I felt obliged to give her to him. After all, hedid race overhere at three o’clock in the morning.
The elevator pinged open, and I strode ahead of him to room forty-six. “So, here we are.” I pushed the door open. “See? No lights.” I flicked the switches a few times for his benefit.
“Righty-ho.”He squeezed past me, and I inhaled the musky colognethathe must have splashed on beforehe lefthome.“So, I’ll leave you to it. Just press the reception button on the phone if you need me.”
“Okay. I’ll be right in here then.” He turned from me, and most of his bodywas consumedby the darkness. “Can you tell Memphis where I am, please?” He said it louder than he needed to.
I nearly giggled at his boyish eagerness as I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “I’ll stay right here. Room forty-six.”
I sucked my bottom lip to stop from giggling. It was a bit hard to seehimin the darkness, but I thinkhewriggledhisshoulders in some kind of sexy, come-hither move.
Stopping myself from laughing, I turned. “I’ll be at reception if you need me.”
But I didn’t go to reception. I went straight to my room, stripped off, put blue contact lenses in my eyes, plied on my makeup, braided my hair, pinned it, and shoved it into the black wigthat thesexy plumber had seen me in. I decided on my blue satin panties, and for alittlecheekiness, I went without a bra. I wouldn’t need it anyway.
From the state I’d seen Jackson in, thiswas going tobe over in a flash, which was a good thing, considering I should’ve been downstairs at reception.
I chose the French maid outfit again, as that was what he’d be expecting. In lightning speed, I’d transformed from Jane to Memphis, and with my trench coat on and master access card clutched in my hand, I was on my way back up to the eighth floor in seven minutes flat.
My insides clenched in anticipation of red-hot sex as I made my way in the excruciatingly slow elevator. The doors pinged open, and I strode with all the confidence in the world to the cheeky electrician.
I removed my coat andonlyknocked once before Jacksonsprung the door open.
“Well, hello.” He stood naked except for his work boots and tool belt,exactlylike my sexy plumber had.
I chuckled. “Hello there. What have we here?”
“I’m your sizzling electrician.”
The sizzle rolled off his tongue, and I laughed at his ridiculously corny yet incredibly horny announcement. This funny, awkward guy with the tousled hair and trembling fingers wanted me. That, in turn, made me want him, too.
Jackson had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a chest full of dark hair, more hair than any man I’d been with so far, but not so much that he was Sasquatch-worthy.
I strode past him into the darkness. “Do you know the rules?”
“Yes. No sex. Just watch.”
I giggled at his caveman-like voice. “Correct.”
The dull glow from the open curtains gave enough light to make out basic shapes. Normally, I’d stride to the dining table and toss my bag over the back of a chair, but in my haste, I’d completely forgotten everything, including condoms. All I had was my master access key, and I placed this on the table, put my coat over the chair, and turned to Jackson.
“Okay, I’m ready.” He flicked on a flashlight, and I giggled.
But when he aimed the light on his cock, my laughter turned to a gasp. His erection was enormous and totally out of proportion to his body, or maybe the concentrated beam of light gave that illusion. The head of his cock was a swollen crown, begging tobe explored.
“Oh, you are ready.” I strode to him, put one hand on his shoulder—maintaining the distance between us—and wrapped my other hand around his solid rod.
Jackson sucked air through his teeth and reached for my breast. He squeezed hard, treating my boob like a stress ball.Hewas an overexcited teenager, and if his marathon-like breathingwasany way to judge, he’d cum any second. If Iwasn’tcareful, he’d lose his load before I’d even had a turn.
“Take my dress off,” I commanded, easing back from him.
His toolsjangledas he stepped toward me, and in two seconds flat, my dress was over my head.
I gasped. Oh farrkkk! He took my wig off, too.
I grabbed my lacy costume before it hit the floor, and as I fumbled to find my wig in the costume, he fumbled for my boobs, groping and groaning with overzealous fingers.
Oh shit!
My wig isn’t here.