Chapter 14
Maeve
I shove the soft down duvet to my waist, disappointed the fluffy new comforter didn’t perform as promised. I maybe got four hours of sleep last night, tops.
Absolutely ridiculous for a room engineered for quality slumber. Plush navy carpeting that cushions my feet every morning. Soothing, soft, cloud gray walls. Cream-colored blackout curtains for those rare days I snooze past sunrise.
A luxurious queen-sized bed with a brand-spanking-new duvet.
Despite my exhaustion, I still spent an embarrassing amount of time replaying last night’s phone call with Kellin. Along with every other word we’ve exchanged since his arrival.
And stewing on the sizzling, impossible to ignore sexual tension between us.
The brief kiss the night before last that boiled my blood.
Honestly, I’m not sure I slept much that night either.
“…I’d rather spend this time on more enjoyable pursuits.”
Kellin’s seductive assertion, his strong hands on my body, his skilled lips on mine…
He completely unraveled me.
And I welcomed his touch.
If Lenora hadn’t called, how far would we have gone?
If Kellin’s strong hands had taken more liberties, would I have reciprocated? Until we were both naked, with his body pinning me to the desk?
I flush as my mind grapples with what my body already understands. Had Kellin decided to bend me over and fuck me like there was no tomorrow, I would have let him. And based on that one little kiss, my instincts inform me that sex with Kellin would rock my world.
Part of me believes I’m overreacting. That I become hot and bothered around the sexy investor simply because the last time I got laid was, well…I’m not sure. It’s not like I jot down notes on the sad state of my sex life.
I dated the same guy in high school and my first year of college. A soccer player my dad never liked. I learned my lesson, and after Will and I broke up, I quit introducing my boyfriends to Dear Old Dad. Life was easier that way.
The last guy I dated was more of a friends-with-benefits situation. We’d meet at his apartment every couple of weeks or so for a meal and a quick tumble beneath the sheets. When Robby started hinting at trying for more, I broke things off.
As much as I enjoyed the no-strings-attached sex, I didn’t have time for a relationship. Still don’t. Which is exactly why I need to screw my head on straight regarding Kellin.
Mixing business with pleasure is a bad idea, especially when the “pleasure” involves a six-two body with espresso-colored eyes and a smile that could charm the panties off a nun.
We agreed to meet for breakfast. Just breakfast.
Nothing more.
I can’t spend the day with him.
Doesn’t matter that I’ve already cleared my schedule or created a list of other local hotels to tour. Or that I’m eagerly anticipating a short reprieve from my on sight Cypress responsibilities so I can brainstorm fresh ideas to implement later.
I have a million things to do and not enough time in the day to do them. I’ll call Kellin and tell him—
A knock on my main suite door interrupts my spiraling.
I throw the cover all the way off, jump out of bed, and grab the black silk robe slung over the plush chair a few feet from the mattress.
Combing my fingers through my hair, I leave the bedroom and cross the living room to open the door.
Lenora breezes past me, blond hair piled high on her head and a suspiciously chipper smile on her face. “Please tell me you didn’t just roll out of bed. It’s already after six.”
“I know. And I did. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m running a little behind.
” I shut the door and whip around to find Lenora heading into my bedroom.
“And before you start fussing about what I should wear today, don’t bother.
I’m not going to the café with Kellin. I don’t even know why I considered the invitation when so many things here require my attention. ”
By the time I catch up with her, she’s shoulders-deep in my closet.
She spins around, a clothes hanger in each hand. “Maeve—”
“Seriously, no. I’d love to spend the day in the city with an attractive man while ignoring my mile-long to-do list, but I can’t. I have responsibilities.”
“So you admit Kellin’s attractive?” She scrutinizes the two outfits she’s holding as if trying to choose a winning lottery ticket before hanging one of the dresses back in the closet. “That’s progress. And what about your responsibility to take care of yourself?”
I shoot my assistant and closest friend the sternest look I can muster.
“Only a blind person would fail to notice how attractive he is, but that doesn’t change my decision.
I’m serious, Len. You know how crazy things are.
And with Dad breathing down my neck, I really can’t afford to leave.
Then there’s the upcoming wedding, and—”
“That’s exactly why you should leave. If you don’t decompress, you’re going to blow a gasket.
Don’t worry about the hotel. I’ve got you covered.
If an issue I can’t handle arises, I’ll call you.
But we both know I’m a badass who can handle anything.
” Winking, she points to the bathroom. “Now jump in the shower. You’re running out of time. ”
When I open my mouth to argue, Lenora narrows her eyes. “Don’t you dare insult my competence by insisting you need to stay.”
My mouth snaps shut because Lenora’s right. I have full confidence in her ability to hold down the fort while I’m gone.
I do, however, doubt my own ability to maintain a level head while around Kellin. Attempting to remain professional with him in my territory always proves difficult enough. Spending eight-plus hours with him while touring the city?
Bad idea.
Still, arguing with Lenora is like trying to convince a used car salesperson you aren’t ready to buy a vehicle. She won’t be swayed.
Fine. I’ll meet Kellin for breakfast, talk business, and then return to the Cypress. If he wants to tour other hotels, he can go alone.
“All right.” I toss up my hands in surrender. “You win. I’m hopping in the shower.”
A victorious grin spreads across her delicate face. “Better make it quick. The clock’s ticking, and those bags under your eyes won’t hide themselves.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m wearing my most comfortable heels and a sleeveless navy dress with a floral lace overlay from the waist up that hits just above the knee.
Lenora styled my hair in soft, beachy waves—perfect for the California coast—and after a light application of makeup, not an eye bag in sight.
Ready with five minutes to spare.
I call one more “thank you” to Lenora as she slips into the hall before I dial Kellin.
Don’t be so nervous. It’s just breakfast with an investor. That’s all.
Except I happen to know that this particular investor kisses like a sex god.
He answers on the first ring.
I will myself to focus on anything other than lips or sex or Kellin tumbling around naked on my duvet. “Um, hi. Good morning. I, ah, just wanted to let you know there’s a slight change of plans. I can still meet you for breakfast, but after that, I’m afraid—”
“Meet me at my room.”
Click.
I stare at the screen. Irritation prickles my spine and chases away the lingering fatigue.
Did he seriously just hang up on me? After issuing a command?
Not even a “good morning” or “please.” The nerve.
Why does he believe I’ll just nod my head and obey?
Replaying the gravelly instruction, my mind conjures scenarios of him using that same tone during sex.
More images of a nude Kellin flash behind my eyes. Visions of him tying me to the bed, bending me over the dresser, nailing me against the shower wall.
Fanning my cheeks, I give myself a stern mental lecture for the second time in as many minutes.
Time to get a damn grip. Either that or get laid.
Nope. Not happening today.
I grab my purse, phone, and keys and storm up the flight of stairs to Kellin’s level. Equal parts horny and pissed. I knock three times on Kellin’s door, then stand back and wait.
Nothing.
I raise my hand to knock again, but the door swings open before my fist can connect with the wood. Kellin hovers in the empty space and robs my breath.
Perfectly tailored gray slacks hug his muscular thighs. A pale blue button-down hangs open to reveal his abs.
My throat dries up. Holy crap…what a breathtaking view. Incredible. Gorgeous.
I almost laugh when I realize those same words could describe a beach sunset. Fitting. The man’s a walking, talking work of art, all hard lines and sculpted muscle. A tattoo covers his right upper torso, slipping away to hide beneath the fabric. A few pale scars litter his otherwise flawless skin.
Stupid, stupid girl.
Agreeing to this outing must be my worst idea since the summer I turned seventeen, when I lost my virginity in a barn on a cousin’s Montana ranch. All that itchy hay on my skin. Not an experience I hope to ever replicate.
Forget breakfast. As soon as my brain decides to communicate with my mouth, I’ll come up with an excuse and flee.
Somehow, I summon the courage to meet his gaze. In my heels, the top of my head reaches his nose. Those espresso-tinted eyes lock onto mine, burning with intense emotion.
My pulse stutters. I involuntarily rear back.
Desire.
Raw. Unfiltered. Flaming.
I attempt to inflate my lungs, but the air goes nowhere. “Kellin, I don’t think I can—”
He tugs me inside. The door snicks shut behind me, and a strong arm bands around my waist while his other hand cradles the back of my neck. For a heartbeat, he pauses. Allowing me time to protest. To leave.
But I don’t move or make a sound. Hardly dare to breathe.
In the next blink, his lips claim mine. When I gasp into his mouth, he pulls me closer to deepen the kiss.
He devours me like I’m the one on the breakfast menu. White-hot need coils through my body, lighting up every nerve ending and tightening my core. His clean, slightly musky scent invades my senses.
The memory of our first kiss has nothing on the searing heat of our bodies in real time or that magnetic tug in my belly. The taste of him on my tongue.
Through the thin material of my dress, my breasts brush his bare chest. My legs meet his rock-hard thighs. I slip my hands up his arms, over his back, and into his soft curls.
The short brown locks slide like silk between my fingers.
I yank a strand, and he nips at my lip, a throaty half growl, half groan vibrating his chest. The grip around my waist loosens, and his hand travels to my hip.
He traces slow, sensual circles with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his tongue in my mouth.
He breaks the kiss as quickly as he initiated it. The hand on my hip stills. The other one drifts down to settle on my lower back.
Kellin pulls away.
His eyes meet mine. Desire—heated but banked—still burns in their depths.
Controlled.
Seconds pass before I clear my head enough to speak. “I…came up here to cancel. That’s what I was trying to communicate on the phone. Maybe we can do breakfast, but I need to get back after that. Too much to do.”
His hand slips from my hip. “Is that what you’re telling yourself to avoid spending the day with me?”
Yes.
No.
Possibly.
A shiver runs through me. His faint smirk informs me that he caught my reaction. “No, of course not. I have a million things to do.” The truth, as well as a convenient excuse. “But I did create a list of other local hotels. I can text them to you.”
His wicked smile prompts me to clench my thighs. “You can spend the day touring hotels and showing me the city, or you can stay in this room with me for the next twelve hours. Your choice.” He strides toward the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
The ultimatum dampens the lust pumping through my body and replaces it with annoyance.
That’s two demands in less than half an hour. Why do men always think they can order me around?
I’ve spent my entire life playing puppet to my father’s demands. I’m not about to cave to this investor, no matter how infuriatingly attractive he may be.
I march to the bathroom and stop beside the cracked door. “You can take that offer—”
My phone chimes in my purse, killing the snarky reply. I fish out the device and spot a message from Dad.
Meeting at noon. We’ll talk about finances.
That little spark of irritation ignites into an inferno. Another one of Declan’s famous demands.
I type out a quick reply and hit send before I can change my mind.
Can’t. I’m out on hotel business.
He’ll no doubt be pissed, but I’ll deal with that problem later.
I shove the phone back in my purse.
Looks like I’ll be spending the day with Kellin after all.
Breakfast at the Venice Café is surprisingly normal.
We spent the last half an hour enjoying omelets and dark roast coffee at an outdoor table under an arched, cream-colored ceiling held up by decorative columns.
The restaurant’s vintage charm and adjoining bookstore intrigued me the first time I visited several years ago.
This place has remained a favorite ever since.
When we finish, Kellin insists on treating me, and I let him.
If I’m honest, allowing him to perform these little niceties, like paying for my meal and pulling out my chair, feels like a nice change.
Men in my world—my father’s world, at least—don’t tend to treat women this way.
I may as well soak up the novelty while I can.
By the time we’ve toured two hotels, a weight has lifted from my shoulders, and I realize how much I’m enjoying myself.
How much this tiny reprieve from running an upscale LA hotel has soothed the worst of my stress.
Kellin acts like the perfect companion too.
Charming, funny, and insightful. As we stroll through the other hotels, he notices almost as many details as I do.
Work remains on my mind. I never fully leave the Hotel Manager persona behind. Every time an idea strikes, I jot down a note. But the hours away from the Cypress recharge me.
Though I’ll deny the truth until my last breath, Lenora wins. I definitely needed this break.