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“Okay,” he cuts me off. Then he shakes his head. “You’ve felt tingles…all of those times?”
“I have. I ignored them as much as I could, of course, but yes…I felt them.”
The waitress returns with the credit card slip and the boxed pizza.
Jonah doesn’t say anything else about our conversation as he signs the slip, stands, pulls my chair out for me, and picks up the pizza. He escorts me out to the car, a hand on my lower back.
And yep, there are definitely tingles.
Whether he likes it or not.
Chapter16
Jonah
* * *
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
I’m standing in the doorway to my bedroom, staring at the bed.
Then I look up at the ceiling.
Water is dripping from the ceiling onto the bed. And clearly has been for some time.
“Awesome.”
Nearly an hour later, the maintenance men, the manager, and the assistant manager have surveyed the damage, and determined the leak in the pipes they were working on in the shower has extended into the bedroom. They’ve managed to contain the problem, but they can’t fix the pipe or, obviously, dry out my bed in the next hour or so.
They’ve offered me several options to compensate for the inconvenience. Money, which I don’t need. Another room, which I can’t take because I need to be near Linnea—okay, maybeneedis a strong word, but I want to be near her. I don’t want to be in an entirely separate room on another floor.
They’ve offered to move both of us to another room, but the two-bedroom suites like this one are all still occupied. The other options are regular rooms with two beds—not going to happen—or a one-bedroom suite. That one at least has a couch that converts to a bed and would have a wall and door between us. But I’m not making Linnea pack up and move to another room.
“I’ll be fine on the couch here,” I say. Again, at least there’s a wall and a door between us. French doors, to be specific.
“Absolutely not,” Linnea says, emerging from her bedroom with her two suitcases. “We’ll move to the one-bedroom suite.” She looks at me and it is the look she often gives Torin. The one that says, ‘I know you’re going to fight with me and I’m ready’. “At least then you’ll have a full-sized mattress,” she says. “This couch isnotbig enough for you.” She narrows her eyes. “And I know what you’re going to say if I suggest we share the bed in my bedroom.”
I clench my jaw tightly.
I glance at the blue velvet upholstered sofa. She’s right, of course. It’s way too small. It’s not designed for sleeping and certainly not for a man my size. It’s for…tea or something. Or, more likely, just to look nice I’ll never get any sleep on that thing.
I look through the French doors into her bedroom. That bed is plenty big enough for both of us. But no, I’m not doing that.
I study her. She’s not taking no for an answer, and she’s already packed.
“Fine.” I cross to her and take both suitcases. I hand them off to the manager. “Please take Lady Olsen to the new room. I’ll get my things together.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.” The manager hands the bags off to the assistant manager. “And I’ll have some extra amenities sent up.”
“That would be great.”
We’re finally settled in the new room forty-five minutes later. Linnea is unpacked, again. I’ve stored the champagne, chocolates, and fruit basket they sent up in the kitchenette, and made up the sofa bed.
“This is ridiculous, you know.”
I look toward the doorway to her bedroom. She’s got a shoulder propped against the doorframe. She’s in a long, silky robe. I refuse to wonder what’s underneath. At least for more than a few seconds. Her hair looks freshly brushed and I can tell she’s just washed her face.
“Everything is fine,” I tell her, tossing the pillow I’m holding onto the mattress beside me.