8. Very Selective
VERY SELECTIVE
“ I didn’t think I was going to hear from you,” Warren said when he opened the door to his room.
It’d been over two hours since he’d talked to Hunter and he was losing hope and figured he completely wasted his time.
“Sorry,” Emma said. “It was over an hour before I even knew I had the message. I don’t have my phone on me often.”
“It seems as if mine is never from my sight,” he said. “Though I don’t look at it that much because it goes off all the time.”
“The same,” she said. “No. That’s wrong. It’s mostly family and they know I don’t reply quickly. Are you going to let me in or do you not want to be alone with me?”
“Oh,” he said, moving back. He was captivated by her damp brown hair falling past her shoulders, her face was scrubbed clean of any makeup and there was a fresh scent of something coming off of her.
Not perfume, but maybe a mixture of soap or hair product.
“Can I ask why you sought me out?” she asked.
She moved into the room, her jean shorts not hiding a lot of her toned legs. The lavender T-shirt she was wearing had some cartoon face on it, and she had purple and white sneakers on her feet.
She reminded him of Stacy in high school. Only the woman in front of him had to be close to thirty, he was guessing.
Maybe he was wrong.
He knew nothing about her other than her first name since no one knew who she was at the bar.
But Hunter knew who she was, so that was something.
After he’d requested to talk to the owner about Emma, he realized how stupid that was. The guy would have had to go to HR or something. Someone like him didn’t know all the staff that came and went in the resort.
“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” he said.
She angled her head. “You’ve been here a few days trying to figure it out?”
“You know how long I’ve been here?” he asked.
“Hunter told me,” she said. “Don’t worry. He only gave me your phone number as you requested. I wanted your room number, but he told me no.”
Which would explain why Emma texted him five minutes ago she was in the lobby if he wanted to talk and to say where they could meet.
That stunned him, but he was thrilled that she came to him instead of calling.
“Hunter called you himself?” he asked.
“He did,” she said. “I’ll get to that in a minute. Maybe. We’ll see. I guess it depends on the reason you wanted to see me again. If it’s because you think I’m a good time you can roll around in bed with, the answer would be yes, I am. But that is not going to happen either.”
She’d stunned him with those words.
She was smirking while she said it. “It’s not?” he asked.
The two of them were standing in his room. He didn’t even have the manners to offer her a seat.
“Not tonight,” she said. “No one knows what the future holds. I guess it depends on how you answer my questions.”
“Questions again,” he said. “You sure have a lot of them.”
She laughed. “My family says that too.”
“I thought most people opened up to bartenders,” he said. “Sit.”
He gestured with his hand to the seating area.
She sat on the couch, and he went to the chair. No reason to crowd her.
“It was fun being a bartender. I found out a lot of information for those few days, but that is why I was doing it.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You only had the job for a few days?”
It might explain why she seemed frazzled. But she said it was fun. Maybe they fired her for messing up.
None of this made sense.
“It’s all I wanted it for,” she said. “It was research.”
“Research?” he asked.
“You’re not doing very well giving me what I need,” she said.
“I’m not sure what the hell I need, let alone you,” he said.
“Do you want to get to know me better?” she asked. “Like some dates or something? If they lead to sex, then they do, but I’m not talking about a fling or casual friends with benefits or anything. I don’t play those games and I’m not sure if you do either.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t. I won’t risk my reputation on that. I’m very selective about who I get close to.”
She nodded. “The same. And you want to get close to me? In your eyes, I’m just a bartender and you’re this big celebrity athlete sought after with millions of dollars.
” She put her finger to her chin. “You could call it a Cinderella story, couldn’t you?
You do seem like a good guy who cares about his family. At least from what I read about you.”
He wasn’t sure how he felt about her doing that, but knew it’d happen.
The fact she didn’t know who he was prior could have led her to check him out.
Maybe that was the only reason she came here today. Could be she was playing the long game.
He didn’t know a damn thing about her or what he could get himself into and it wasn’t like him to put himself in this position.
“I’m not going to say everything you’ve read about me online is true, but I’d like to think most of it is. Women tend to want me for the wrong reason,” he said. “Maybe I liked that you didn’t know who I was at first.”
“So I wasn’t fawning all over you?” she asked.
“If I say yes, I’m going to appear cocky.”
“Newsflash,” she said. “You wreak of cockiness. You don’t have to be a pro athlete for that. And you look in the mirror so you know you’re smoking.” She was waving her hand in front of her face. “You got my attention for that and nothing else.”
He smirked. “Good to know,” he said. “I like that you appear down to earth in a quirky manner.”
“Quirky,” she said, perking up. “That’s better than some of the other things I’ve been told.”
“Have I answered enough for you now?”
“I guess. So you want to go on a date or something?” she asked.
“I’d like to think we had one in the casino, but yes, I’d like another if you’re willing to give me a shot. You live here and I live in Brookline. It’s not that far but not a quick drive.”
“There is always the helicopter,” she said, smiling.
“I did take it over before,” he said. Not that he always wanted to pay for that, but didn’t have a problem with it either.
“Okay,” she said. “Here goes. I’m not a bartender. I told you I was doing research.”
“You did just say that,” he said. “What do you do then?”
“Remember how we were talking about true crime and podcasts?” she asked.
“I do,” he said.
“I’m a writer,” she said. “My name is Emma French. You could search for me and find a lot of my books.”
“What do you write?” he asked, pulling his phone out. He was damn well going to do that right now.
“Romantic Suspense,” she said. “I know we talked about books, but never really who you read. I’m sure it’s not my books.”
“Are you popular?” he asked. “I’m not much into romance books. Sorry if that came out wrong.”
Her name popped up and he was scrolling.
He saw she was a New York Times bestselling author and had over a hundred books published.
Some of her covers were sexy as all hell and others were more like thriller covers.
He couldn’t figure out the difference, but guess they went to different series.
And there was her profile picture.
It was professionally done and looked almost nothing like her.
He glanced up and narrowed his eyes.
“You’re looking at my picture, aren’t you?” she asked, turning her head regally.
“Yep,” he said. “There it is. That angle right there.”
“The photographer told me that was my best side. Whatever,” she said. “I had too much makeup on for it in my eyes.”
“I like this look better,” he said. His hand was moving up and down in her direction.
“That’s good because this is the look I normally have if I leave my house.”
“If?” he asked.
“I don’t often,” she said. “You should know that. In polite terms, I’m a hermit.
I was working when Hunter texted me. I hadn’t known because I tend to lose my phone and found it in my bathroom where I left it at four this morning after I woke up with an idea.
I didn’t stop working until about two hours ago.
I hadn’t showered or brushed my teeth yet either.
I’d had several bad cups of coffee and some water, nothing else other than a protein bar I snagged when I walked out the door.
” She burst out laughing. “You should see the horrified look on your face.”
“That is completely unhealthy,” he said.
“My mother lectures me on that all the time too. At thirty-three, I’m not likely to change much. So yeah, you should know that. I’m not always around, even if I am around. If that makes sense.”
“It does,” he said. “We need to get some dinner in you. Do you want to go to the restaurant? Or eat in or go somewhere else?”
“We can order room service,” she said. “I’ll do it soon.”
“I can handle it,” he said.
“We’ll get to why I’ll do it, if you don’t mind.”
She was smirking at him like Hunter had and he couldn’t figure out why.
The same reason he didn’t know why Hunter personally called her.
Then it hit him.
“Is Hunter a fan of your books? Is that why he let you work here for research?”
She laughed. “I’m not sure if Hunter has read many of my books, but his wife, Kayla, has.
I think I lean toward women more than men.
That’s wrong. I self-publish several series on my own and those are the sexy covers.
But I publish three books a year with a big name publisher and that goes through my agent. Those you might have read.”
“I haven’t,” he said. “But I will. I’m assuming those are the covers that aren’t as sexy?”
“Yes,” she said. “Not always my favorite, but not my choice either. They know what they are doing and I just write the books.”
She stood up and moved toward his Kindle on the counter and picked it up.
“You want to see what I read?” he asked.
“Do you mind?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “You’ll find a lot of Steve Spencer on there. I told you I love true crime and anything else I’ve got to figure out or solve.”
She laughed. “He is good and very popular.”
He was scrolling through more information on Emma since she was looking at what he liked to read.
“Oh shit,” he said.
She turned quickly and he noticed she was grinning as if she held the prize information in the room.
She did. Until now.
“What did you find out about me?” she asked, smirking.
“Your bloodline,” he said.
She wiggled her eyebrows. “Guess you don’t have to worry about me being interested in your money.”