Chapter 3
As I drove, Jack leaned back against the seat and watched me. Suddenly he spoke. “It must be tough doing lots of travel as a single woman.”
“What do you mean, Jack?”
“You’re so beautiful; you must get hit on all the time.”
I was glad that it was dark out so he couldn’t see the pink in my cheeks.
“Not so much. Most men are quite respectful.
Alzough, zer is a man who is always trying to convince me to go to bed wiz him.
Unfortunately, ‘e will be at my meeting tomorrow.
I call him PBD because ‘e zinks no woman can resist ze allure of a pink button-down shirt.”
Jack’s mouth turned up into a half grin. “Sounds like an ass.”
“You are not wrong.”
Back at the hotel, I turned off the car and sat thinking. It was too late to call Rolly, the limo driver, and I didn’t feel safe taking an Uber alone this late at night in a strange city.
“Eve, what’s going on?” Jack’s question roused me out of my thought tangle.
“Oh, sorry, I am just considering ze best way to get to my ‘otel.”
“No problem; I’ll drop you off,” he offered.
“Clearly you should not. Remember zat I drove?” He sat silently considering this for a moment.
“Hey, your stuff’s already here. Just spend the night in my room and I’ll take you in the morning.
No monkey business, I promise.” He held up some fingers as a pledge.
“I wasn’t actually ever a scout, so I’m not sure how that’s done,” he admitted sheepishly.
“C’mon. You helped me out tonight so you can have a place to sleep. No strings.”
I considered for a minute, but knew my other choices sucked, so I nodded acquiescence, and we got out of the car.
In the room, Jack said he’d hurry in the bathroom, then I could take my time.
As he brushed his teeth and changed, I sent a quick text to my hotel, asking them to hold my room, and one to Rolly.
Then I pulled what I needed out of my suitcase.
Toothbrush and toothpaste, face wash, cream, and…
merde…. It was all I had. I’d have to make the best of it.
Jack came out of the bathroom wearing a T-shirt with cartoon dancing tacos on it and boxer shorts. Good God, woman, do not stare at those arms, or that chest, or… I scurried into the bathroom and shut the door.
I pulled my hair up into a messy bun, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and used a washcloth to wipe the stench of travel off me.
I rubbed my favorite rose-infused cream all over and then slipped into my sleep set.
It was a dainty, pink, silk camisole with matching shorts.
The low scoop of the top had silk ribbon flowers adorning it and the shorts were finished with a gently scalloped edge.
When I’d seen it in the shop, I’d known I had to have it, even if it was a bit of a splurge.
I just hadn’t planned on wearing it to bed with a handsome pop star.
Where had my life taken this bizarre turn?
I eased the door open. Jack was in the bed, his night light on, looking at his phone. His eyes got wide when he looked at me and his eyebrows rose.
I gave a shrug and said, “I am sorry. Zis is what I had packed. It was not meant for you.”
He grinned and said, “Don’t apologize. Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man.”
“Oh, zis is not for a man. It is for me. My grandmère taught me to buy pretty zings just for myself. So, I can always feel pretty.”
“Well, it worked,” he replied with appreciation written all over his face. “You’re a knockout!”
I felt a blush rise on my cheeks. I hurried to the other side of the bed, set my phone alarm, and put it on the bedside table, and slipped under the covers.
“Well,” I said awkwardly. “Good night.”
Instead of replying, Jack paused then asked, “Eve, did you know something was going down with Valentina?”
“Yes. I heard her talking to her friends while I was using ze restroom. It is quite stupid to assume zat you are alone in a restroom wizout checking ze stalls. Also, to assume zat because I speak French, I did not understand zem.”
“What did they say?” he asked.
“Valentina sought she was about to get married again. To you. She had you selected as her meal ticket. It is quite possible she has already ordered ze monogrammed stationary.”
Jack snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Thanks for intervening. I thought I needed you for emotional support. I didn’t think you’d have to do relationship jujitsu. I owe you, Eve.”
“You owe me nossing, Jack. It was an entertaining evening, and it kept me from stressing about my presentation.” I leaned over and turned out the light.
“Good night, Jack.”
“Good night, Eve.”
And just a tiny part of me, well, no, a big part of me, wished he’d wrap his arms around me and cuddle me to sleep. He didn’t. Instead, I listened to his breathing become deep and even, and then I drifted off myself.
I’d always had the ability to wake myself up at a given time.
I told myself the time as I went to sleep, and that’s when my eyes would open.
My phone alarm was just backup. When I woke up it was still dark.
I was orienting myself to the foreign bed when I realized someone was holding my hand.
Somehow during sleep Jack and I had resumed hand holding.
I gently disengaged my hand, reached for my silent phone and cancelled the alarm.
Judging by his breathing, Jack was very soundly asleep.
I had left yesterday’s clothes folded in the bathroom.
I gave myself a quick once-over with the washcloth, brushed my teeth, applied deodorant and dressed in the slightly funky-smelling clothes.
I gathered up my sleep set and my toiletries and tip-toed to the bedroom.
As quietly as possible, I opened my suitcase and arranged my belongings inside.
Then, by the light of my phone I wrote a note to Jack.
Dear Jack,
It was a pleasure to meet you. I am happy I was able to help you through a difficult evening and hope that you now have peace about the whole situation.
–Eve
I eased open the room door and slid my bags through the crack, then gently shut the door and carried my bags downstairs.
Rolly was already waiting for me. When he saw me coming, he sprang out of the limo and took my bags from me.
Once they were stowed in the trunk and I was in the back I gave him the address of the hotel I’d been supposed to check into yesterday.
Since the hotel chain I worked for, Duvier, did not have a hotel in Scottsdale, we were hosting the meeting at a partner hotel.
The approach to the Desert Springs hotel complex was along a verdant golf course.
The rising sun made sparkling rainbows of the sprinkler mist, and the sky went from purple to pink.
The morning rays struck the tallest walls of the stucco hotel, turning it a golden pink.
It was a beautiful mix of updated architecture and classical stucco and red tile roofing.
Rolly pulled the limo around the circular entrance drive, stopping beneath the porte cochere.
Even at this crack of dawn hour, a bellhop was instantly beside the car to unload the bags.
I signed the invoice Rolly handed me and added a significant tip, thanked him, then went inside with the bellhop leading the way.
The reception desk was manned (womanned?
personned?) by a tiny woman with a 1000-kilowatt smile.
“Ms Lambert? Welcome to Desert Springs. We received your message yesterday and have your room ready for you. Thank you so much for reaching out to us. Here is your room key card, and the conference schedule. Justin will take your bags to your room. I’m Patrice.
Please let me know if there’s any way we can make your stay more comfortable. ”
I smiled at Patrice’s early morning enthusiasm. “Good morning, Patrice. Is there a place to get a good cup of coffee?”
“Oh, yes! Our café opens at 6:30, and until then room service will be happy to bring you whatever you need.”
“Thank you, Patrice. I appreciate your help,” I replied in my natural, American accent.
She gave me another huge smile, and I followed Justin and the luggage trolley to my room. I gave Justin a generous tip, he said an appreciative thank you and left, and I looked around the room.
This room was a far cry from the sad excuse for a hotel room that Jack was sleeping in.
I took a moment to appreciate the luxuriously large room, the smell of fresh linen, the thick carpeting with vacuum tracks.
There was a king-sized bed, two armchairs, a writing desk, a flatscreen tv above the dresser, a closet, a mini-bar as well as a mini-fridge.
The drapes, now open, revealed French doors that opened onto a balcony with lounge chairs overlooking the pool and out to the golf course beyond.
And the bathroom, ah, that was the stuff of dreams. Whoever designed that bathroom knew what they were doing.
A two-sink countertop, stacked with fluffy towels, a shower that was big enough for at least two (although why more than two would want to shower together was a question for another day), and a tub that I wanted to live in.
Fill it with bubbles, put champagne and chocolates beside it, and I would never want to leave.
But that particular fantasy would have to wait.
I called room service and asked for them to bring a pot of coffee and breakfast. Taking my toiletries with me, I headed back to the bathroom.
When I came out, swaddled in a thick, soft bathrobe, my hair wrapped in a towel, the breakfast was waiting for me.
A tray had been left on the table between the armchairs.
A pot of coffee, a fresh roll, a bowl of strawberries, and, under a domed lid, beautifully scrambled eggs. And a rose bud in a vase. Perfection.