One. Maisie
One
Maisie
Knowing your weaknesses was half the battle. Except, knowing she was forgetful didn’t seem to help her conquer the issue. Maisie needed to make physical checklists on sticky notes that she could post everywhere so she could stop forgetting things.
Pulling the hotel key card out of her midnight-blue clutch, she reminded herself that at least she’d remembered the room key even if she’d forgotten her phone.
Part of the problem was that she usually had a camera bag over one shoulder, a large purse over the other, and everything she needed somewhere in the deep recesses of either. Transferring her most necessary items into a smaller purse for the wedding was the real culprit. Not her lack of efficient list-making. Something was always going to be left behind.
Maisie scanned the card against the door, frowning when the light flashed red. When she tried again and got the same result, she flipped it over. Then upside down. Then back the other way but upside down while jiggling the handle. Dropping her hands, she stared at the nondescript door a moment before trying again. This time, she tucked her purse under one arm and set one hand on the handle as she flashed the card, turned the knob, and shoved with her hip all at the same time.
The light flashed red again but, oddly enough, the door flew open. Maisie flew with it, practically bouncing off a surprisingly hard male midriff covered by the softest fabric she’d ever felt.
She heard a deep “oof” as her ankles wobbled in her high heels, her purse dropped, and then two hands righted her, setting her back on her feet.
“Can I help you?”
Maisie’s gaze wandered up the long length of a very solid man, noting the way his cuffed sleeves were rolled up his forearms and the top two buttons of his gray dress shirt hung open, like he hadn’t had time, or inclination, to add a tie. The whiskey-rich voice belonged to a man with gorgeous eyes and a serious scowl going on.
The scruff on his square chin was slightly darker than his blondish-brown hair. He looked, and smelled, like he’d just stepped out of the shower with the damp ends of the soft looking locks curling just a bit.
His hold above her elbows made her skin feel alive, like he was the human equivalent of jumper cables. Then, as if he’d touched fire, he dropped his hands and stepped back, the door resting open against his side.
Maisie’s brain stopped short-circuiting long enough to ask, “What are you doing in my room?”
She’d checked the room service menu and there were definitely no tall, sexy, brooding men on it. He didn’t look like staff, so the only logical conclusion was he’d broken into her room. And she was standing here arguing with him.
Her fight-or-flight instinct probably would have kicked in, except he gave a sardonic laugh, his lips twisting into a bemused expression that didn’t match the doubtful arch of his brows.
“Nice try. Heard that one before. I don’t want to call security but I will.” He sighed, like he was tired of this conversation that had only started seconds ago.
Indignation straightened her spine and cleared the veil of lust from her eyes. “Excuse me? You’re in my room. If anyone is going to call security, it’s me.” Except, shit. Her phone was in the room somewhere behind him.
Now, he full-on smiled as he shook his head, right before he bent to pick up her purse. Of course it’d fallen open. She watched him shove the lip gloss, second key card, her ID, and breath mints back into it before handing it over.
Still, he had that smile. One that, under different circumstances, would have distracted her completely. This time, only one brow went up. Maybe he practiced in the mirror. “Oh yeah? With what phone? And when you call, what will you say? That you tried to break into my room, then pretended not to know what you were doing?”
He started to close the door. The arrogant, egotistical, son of a—she stepped forward before she lost the chance, wedging her foot and hoping it didn’t scratch the shoe. The low growl that came from somewhere deep in that wide, muscled chest probably should have scared her off, but instead, it made an overeager sort of energy whip through her blood.
He leaned in with a huff, his gaze dancing with whispers of heat. She didn’t know if it was a good kind that led to a welcoming fire or the kind that started an out-of-control blaze. “Move. Your. Foot.”
Maisie leaned her upper body forward, an almost jerky motion from the electrical current charging through her body. “Get. Out. Of. My. Room.”
What the hell was she doing? Fighting for what’s yours.
His eyes widened, maybe at her tone or possibly her unwillingness to back down. Whatever the reason, the action drew attention to his enviably long, dark lashes. Jerk. A slow smile, different from the one before, appeared on his lips as he slipped his phone back in his pocket.
Maisie’s heart stuttered when he leaned closer, lifted his hand, and pointed at the doorframe. She scrunched her brows.
“Look,” he said, all the tension easing out of his tone even though he continued to point.
Turning her attention to where he gestured, she felt the color drain from her face. Oh. My. God.
A raised, gold-plated 333 sat proudly on the square little plaque next to the door. She was on the wrong floor. How had she even done that? Maisie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and forced herself to look at him again.
The victory shining in his eyes only made him seem sexier, which was really freaking annoying.
Maisie stepped back. “I apologize.”
He gave a harumph noise that was more suited to a grumpy old man than this gorgeous, slightly arrogant one. “I bet,” he said in that low, rumbly voice.
“It was an honest mistake.” Why was she still standing there? God, did she have no fight, flight, or embarrassment modes? Weren’t those instinctual?
“Mmm-hmm.” The skepticism in the sound scratched over her skin like nails.
“Why would I try to get into someone else’s room?”
Both of his perfectly shaped brows arched up again as if the answer was obvious.
She’d never met someone so conceited.
“You are entirely too full of yourself for someone who has such poor manners and rude behavior.”
This time, his laugh was all amusement. “I’m not the one breaking into rooms.”
Frustrated, embarrassed, and unwilling to let this man put a damper on one more minute of a day she’d looked forward to for so long, Maisie turned dramatically, not looking back, but she felt his eyes on her the entire way to the elevator.
Pressing the button, she gripped her purse tight enough to crinkle the satiny fabric. The good news was, the night could only get better from here.