Chapter 3
Maeve
“He’s staying here?” Lenora’s near-shriek echoes through the cavernous lobby.
I tug on her arm. “Keep your voice down.”
The open-concept space is beautiful—bright skylights, round columns, several large chandeliers, creamy marble tiles—but there are no secrets in the Cypress’s lobby. Considering that even whispers can travel sometimes, Lenora’s excitement is far too loud.
I yank her behind a golden planter. The large Chinese fan palm hides us from view.
“He’s in town on business, so it just worked out.”
“And he wants to meet with you?” She reaches up to smooth down my flyaway hairs. “You should’ve let me do your makeup.”
I can’t deny that I find her concern sweet. Lenora’s the closest thing I have to a friend, and I love her. But she does get overly enthusiastic, especially when attractive men are involved.
“Why? It’s just a business meeting, Len.”
Lenora quirks a perfectly penciled brow, her green eyes narrowing. “Right. Just business. And if you marry him and have his kids, they’ll be business babies.”
I hold back an un-bosslike snort and perch one arm on the corner of the check-in desk. “There will be no marriage or babies. I’m meeting a prospective business partner, a man I’ve never seen before in my life.” Even if I were interested in him, I would never risk this deal by being unprofessional.
The thought of ruining my chance at so much money churns my stomach.
“Oh, come on.” Lenora folds her arms. “No man with a voice that sexy could be ugly in real life.”
I beg to differ. Before the Cypress, when I actually had free time, I used to listen to audiobooks. One of my favorite male narrators had the sexiest voice on the planet, and I was convinced he was hot enough to be an underwear model.
My illusions were shattered when I met the author and her narrator at a book signing in LA.
Let’s just say his personality was his best quality. That and his voice, of course.
No need to burst Lenora’s bubble though. “Thank you for that expert opinion. But believe it or not, his looks don’t have anything to do with his business acumen.”
She purses her lips. “I’m just saying, why don’t you go freshen up? You’ve still got about ten minutes.”
I shake my head. “There’s no way I’ll make it all the way upstairs and back in time.” I glance down at myself. My standard black blazer, skirt, and heels stare back at me. It’s not quite a Little Black Dress, but it’s not half bad. “Old Reliable will have to do.”
“That is, like, the un-sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my—” Lenora cuts herself off with a strangled choke.
Her face goes slack, her eyes widen, and her cheeks flush. Frowning, I spin around.
And my stomach swoops.
A tall man with severe, devastatingly handsome features loiters inside the lobby doors.
High, royal forehead. Sharp nose with well-trimmed, stubbly shadow clinging to his angular jaw.
He keeps his dark curls on the shorter side and pushed back off his forehead, ensuring that no one misses his deep, dark brown eyes.
His jet-black suit is tailored to perfection, highlighting his broad shoulders and long, muscular legs. Gold cufflinks glitter beneath the skylights as he adjusts the blood-red tie on his pressed white shirt. In his fist, he clutches the handle of a rolling titanium suitcase.
My body warms as I drink him in. He’s one of the most gorgeous men I’ve ever laid eyes on, and considering I live in Los Angeles, that’s saying a lot.
Lenora elbows me. “That’s him.”
I jump. “Who?”
“Kellin.” Her whisper may as well be a shout. “I hunted until I found his photo on the website. That is absolutely, positively him. Yum.”
“Holy shit. That’s Kellin Jameson?” The man would put an underwear model to shame.
“Right. Maybe this is the perfect time to end your year-plus dry streak. I bet a guy like that could shake the cobwebs loose.”
“Lenora!” I swear I’m this close to slapping a piece of duct tape over her mouth.
My assistant bats her eyelashes in faux innocence. “What? Don’t try to tell me he’s not your type. You were practically drooling.”
Kellin banks to the right and heads our way.
“If you don’t shut up, I’m assigning you to full-time kitchen duty for the rest of the month.” I mutter the words out of the side of my mouth.
“All right, I’ll stop. No need to sink to that level, sheesh.”
Heart leaping, breath hitching, I try to calm myself as the insanely sexy man glides toward us with confident, purposeful strides.
If he’s really an investor, he missed his calling by a mile.
Lenora blows out a breath, pushing honey blond bangs off her forehead. “If that’s what investors look like, my mom was right. I should’ve gotten an MBA.”
I ignore her as Kellin approaches, plastering on my best professional smile. If this gorgeous man really is my path to complete independence, then I cannot and will not do a single thing to jeopardize that.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish, very badly, that I’d raced upstairs to throw on a different outfit. I don’t need to talk to him to know with one-hundred-percent certainty that Kellin is the type of man women work hard to impress.
All I had time to do in between setting up our meeting and coming down here to inform Lenora was research his business profile. I read about his work with Zenith Investment Group and their parent company, Zenith International.
This Kellin guy is a big shot.
If he wants to talk to me one-on-one, Zenith must be seriously interested.
That knowledge should reassure me but only further agitates my nerves. My toes squirm in my pumps.
When I went to the company’s website, I didn’t spot any pictures of Kellin. Then again, that wasn’t my main focus. Leave it to Lenora “Sherlock Holmes” Cox managed to find one. But hey, what can I say? I have a capable assistant.
While I resent the fact that this guy didn’t come with a warning label, no photograph would’ve done him justice anyway.
He damn near oozes sex. The lobby is relatively empty—the evening check-in rush won’t start for another hour or so—but the few stragglers all watch him cross the room.
The way he walks, all self-assured with a dash of swagger, almost reminds me of my father. He carries himself with a similar sense of pride, with the obvious knowledge that he belongs.
His eyes scan the room with the same intent. Observing. Waiting.
Hunting.
I shake the thought away. He’s in finance. His idea of illegal activities probably involve speeding in a fancy car or upcharging an investment service.
Unpleasant, but not dangerous. Dad and Brody must’ve triggered me more than I realized.
“Ms. Gallagher?”
The sexy voice from the phone strokes my spine. It’s even deeper in person. Smoother. The kind of velvet-cloaked gravel you want to rub between your fingers.
A younger, softer Maeve might have gone weak in the knees from a single word.
Even my present self’s legs wobble a little.
He waltzes into my personal space and extends his hand. I notice a scar wrapped around his palm. “I’m Kellin Jameson. And you’re Maeve Gallagher.”
“Yes, that’s me.”
When his fingers slide against mine, heat snakes over my skin, from his palm all the way up to the back of my neck. Considering the way electricity zips between us, I’m surprised my hair’s not standing on end.
With watchful, almond-shaped eyes a brown a shade lighter than my own, he trains all his intensity on me.
I must have a malfunctioning power line inside me. That’s the only explanation for all these flying sparks.
Kellin holds my hand—and gaze—a few seconds longer than he should, crossing that vague boundary between polite and personal. With a stuttering heart, I pull back before he does. He releases me slowly, his warmth lingering on my skin like a brand.
I’m having prom flashbacks from when I tried to strike up a conversation with my big crush. What’s wrong with me?
My face heats when he hits me with a dazzling smile. I’m flustered. I’m about to trip all over my words or feet.
I haven’t gone on a date in almost a year. No sex for even longer. Lenora’s right. I probably have accumulated cobwebs in unmentionable places.
That’s the only reason he’s affecting me this much. I can’t be blamed for reacting like any rational human when Sex Incarnate strolls through the door.
Urging myself to get a grip, I slip into the safety of my professional guise. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
Is he flirting, or does his voice always sound like he just rolled out of bed? Either way, I’d love to hear him say “pleasure” that way about a dozen more times.
Focus!
My heart pounds louder than Metallica’s drummer. I cling to my professional facade so he won’t notice my frazzled edges.
“Lenora will make sure your bag is delivered to your room.” I gesture for him to hand off his suitcase.
Len struggles to reclaim her motor skills, but after a second or two, she accepts the luggage, her face still slack.
No help from that quarter.
“Great. Shall we?” My attempt to inject a little extra perkiness into my voice ends with me sounding like a cheerleader after ten cups of coffee.
I do my best not to wince while praying that Kellin doesn’t decide we’re both deranged and hightail it out of here.
He offers another perfectly charming smile. If he notices my rattled nerves, he at least possesses the courtesy not to mention them. “Yes. I’m excited to see the property.”
“Right this way, Mr. Jameson.”
Over the phone, we agreed to begin his stay with a short tour of the hotel grounds. Nowadays, tours are the kind of task I usually assign to the concierge staff, but with so much riding on this, I need to handle his personally.
Before we turn away, Lenora widens her eyes at me, mouthing, work it.
Shooting her a death glare, I thank my lucky stars Kellin’s checking out a seascape on the wall. And exactly what does Lenora think I should work? My classy but boring business suit? Please.