Chapter 3
Jay’s villa was palatial, and that was putting it mildly. There was a chef’s kitchen, a dining table for twelve, and a grand living space with sofas large enough to swallow me whole.
I insisted on paying my share and called the front desk to make sure that happened but Jay put up a fight, at one point grabbing my credit card from between my fingers and sliding it in my back pocket.
We ran into another battle of wills when I attempted to tip the server who arrived with our room service order. “That’s enough, Elizabeth,” he said, layering a hand over mine as I fished some bills from my wallet.
I resolved to rectify the payment issues before leaving and without his interference. There was no way I’d leave here owing that man anything.
Jay ate a sandwich leaning against the kitchen island while listening to voicemails on speaker phone. I devoured my salad from the far end of the dining table while scrolling through my slide deck, ear buds in place to tune out his noise.
We did a great job at ignoring each other and that felt like progress.
It was late enough that we’d retreat to separate rooms soon and, if I played it right in the morning, we wouldn’t have to cross paths again.
I’d scurry out of here and—hopefully—collect my luggage and newly discovered room reservation, give my talk, and then spend the rest of the weekend avoiding Acosta.
The villa’s two bedrooms sat on either side of the living space, offering a nice buffer zone, and I retreated to the right side when Acosta headed for the left. Like everything else here, it was massive and opulent in a way that brought a bitter laugh out of me.
This was the kind of place my non-surgeon friends and family thought I could easily afford.
They assumed I backed a box truck up to the hospital and filled it with cash every month.
They thought I was keeping myself humble by living in a six hundred square foot condo.
They had no idea I was still paying my med school loans and watching the partners in my practice swipe patients right off my roster.
It shouldn’t have been this way. If not for Acosta, it wouldn’t have been. And I’d never be able to forgive him for smothering my career.
Which was why I snapped “What?” when he knocked on my door a few minutes into a second rehearsal of my presentation.
He leaned against the door frame, one ankle kicked over the other, and I was forced to acknowledge that he’d changed into shorts and a t-shirt at some point. Incredibly rude.
He raked a smile up from my bare feet to the podium I’d constructed from a pile of pillows. “There’s a pool just off the patio,” he said.
“Okay?” I replied, not knowing what I was supposed to do with this information.
“I’m going for a swim.”
“Have fun,” I said, returning to my slides.
I knew I was being surly. I knew this. I also knew I had a place to sleep and shower tonight because of him. But I also knew that, in a way, I was in this mess because of him. And I wouldn’t be able to find a milliliter of good manners in my body for him.
“Would you care to join me?”
I turned to him fully and met his gaze. “I have work to do.”
“You know the material inside and out,” he replied with a nod toward my laptop. “It doesn’t need another run-through.”
"You were listening in?"
Am I that loud or are the walls that thin?
He motioned toward the living area on the other side of the door. "I overheard. I hope you don’t mind." When I didn't respond, he continued, “It’s an excellent topic. One o’clock, right?”
I did not want to see Jay Acosta in the audience while trying to speak about genetic susceptibility markers. I had a bad tendency of garbling brCA2 and CDKN2A into a hairy conglomeration of brCDKN2A or CDCNA2.
But it wasn't like the information about my session wasn't readily available, so I said, "Yes. One."
"I'll be there."
"Really doesn't seem like something you have to do."
"I don't have to do anything, Elizabeth." He dipped his chin as if the matter was resolved. “Come for a swim. You’ll enjoy it.”
I waved at my rumpled clothing. “I have nothing to wear.”
He ran a soft gaze over me then, one that quietly tracked every line of my body before lingering on my mouth. I couldn’t recall the last time anyone had looked at me that way. If ever. Certainly not Grant.
Jay slipped a hand into his pocket as he nodded, not a shred of shame to be found on him while he made eye contact with my lips. “Mmm. That’s true.”
“So, obviously,” I started, motioning to my laptop, “I’ll skip that.”
“Understandable. I’ll be outside if you need…
anything.” The words settled like an invitation.
As if he was waiting for me to realize that it made perfect sense to fling off my clothes and cannonball into the pool with him.
At night. Naked. He gave me one last delicate glance and pushed off the door frame.
“If you don’t, then, sleep well, Elizabeth. ”
I stared at the door as he pulled it shut behind him, one hand flat on the panel to keep it from closing too hard. I refused to believe he cared whether the door slammed but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the spot where he’d stood.
For the next five minutes, I put real effort into blocking Acosta from my mind and rehearsing my talk.
But through the patio doors I could hear swimming laps, could hear the water lapping against the lip of the pool, the momentary drop of quiet when he reached the end and pushed off to start a new lap.
And though I hated my brain for dysfunctioning in this way, I thought about the flex of his muscles with each stroke and the water beading on his skin.
Not that I cared to peek out the window or even wander out to the patio.
No, that was nothing more than a misfire in an overtired, emotionally wrung-out brain.
Because he wrecked my career and I hated him.
And I didn’t care about the tattoo I’d spied crawling up his bicep or the way he said my name like he was stroking a finger down my cheek.
I did not care one bit.
I didn’t sleep well though I probably should’ve expected that. I was never very good at quieting the background noises in my head and it was worse when the foreground noises were loud too.
I ran through the presentation again after showering. I knew what I was talking about and I was fairly certain I could recite this thing backward but at the same time I felt like I was never more than a minute away from forgetting it all.
I was ready to start in on another run-through when a knock sounded at my door. It wasn’t until I pulled the door open and Jay swept a gaze over my body that I remembered I was only wearing a hotel robe.
“Oh. Good morning,” I said, clutching the lapels.
“Hello.” The word seemed to smile between us. “How are you feeling today, Elizabeth?”
It was then that I noticed that he was dressed in athletic wear. Running shoes, shorts, a form-fitting sleeveless shirt. His shorts were a slinky fabric that hung low on his hips and telegraphed all the contours of his body. I knew more about Jay at this moment than I ever needed to know.
It was a lot of information. A lot. I pressed my knees together. “Fine. Thank you. What can I do for you?”
If he noticed my clipped tone, he didn’t let it show. “I’m heading to the gym but I’ve arranged for some replacement items since your luggage hasn’t turned up. Clothes, shoes. That sort of thing.”
That made sense, given the clothes. But also— “You don’t know my sizes.”
He glanced at the belt knotted at my waist. “I made an educated guess.”
“Well. That’s…something.” I shifted on my feet. I really didn’t want to take his help. I’d almost rather present in this robe than take his help. Almost. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
I nodded because I didn’t know what else to do.
“I also took the liberty of ordering breakfast,” he said, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s waiting in the kitchen.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I was running out of defensible reasons to be rude to him. I hated it. “Very thoughtful. I probably would’ve forgotten about breakfast otherwise.”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.” His grin was warm and bright in a way that felt terribly real. Like it made him happy to do things for me. “Help yourself,” he said.
“Well. Thank you again.” When we just went on staring at each other, I asked, “You said you’re going to the gym? I don’t want to keep you.” I pointed to my laptop. “And I should practice this a few more times.”
“Don’t forget to breathe,” he said, pushing away from his slouch against the door jamb. “You’ll be great.”
I watched as he headed for the front door, the broad muscles of his shoulders flexing as he turned the handle. Really broad shoulders. Thick thighs too. And those glutes were exceptional. Whatever he did in that gym was working wonders.
He glanced at me and offered a wave. I waved back.
As the door closed behind him, it took me a moment to realize that I’d just checked out Jay Acosta’s ass.