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"Sure, don't mention it."
"Is this an act of generosity?"
He looks deep into my eyes. "This could be a method to get you into my room."
Woah, I didn't expect him to be so direct. Cue more tingles; cue more fantasies. A vision flashes across my mind—my fingernails buried in his sculpted shoulders, his hand sliding up my leg, our bodies grinding, hot, sweating, flushed with passion.
I fumble miserably, failing to produce a flirty reply. Instead, I make a dorky face and a weirdahhnoise, which he seems to find endearing as he chuckles quietly.
"Don't worry. I'm not a complete animal. Let's go."
He picks up the laptop and leads me from the café, then across the street to the Venetian hotel. We rush into the elevator together. When it rises to the top floor and he guides me to the presidential suite, I raise an eyebrow.
He nudges me playfully. I don't want him to break the contact. I want him to slide his arm around me and pull me close. "Don't judge me for being a bigshot."
"Who are you?"
"Just a Good Samaritan. Come on, Sera. We can't waste any time."
We step into his enormous suite with views of the Strip and the yellow landscape of Nevada beyond. He places the laptop down, rushes into his bedroom, and returns with a leather satchel of computer tools. He puts on magnifying glasses and immediately focuses as he takes the laptop apart, handling the small tools in his giant hands, his skill making him somehow even more attractive.
He's flirty, hot, handsome, tall, mature,andtechy... Come on, fate, talk about tempting me.
"There's going to be a risk of losing the files if I try to recover them early," he says.
I sit opposite him, sliding my hands up and down my legs. I'm wearing tight-fitting black pants. His wolfish blues shoot to my hands, a flash of lust crossing his eyes, his nostrils flaring like any second he's going to forget the laptop and leap on me.
"It's my work laptop, but I have to take the risk. I need to know if I have to rework the end of my speech and the code for my boss. God, my boss is going to befurious."
"Not if you bring him a new laptop, a better one."
I tilt my head at him. "How would that work?"
"Easily, Sparkplug. You tell me your hotel and room number, and I'll have one sent right up."
"You don't have to do?—"
"It's not up for debate. Either I save this laptop or I get you a new one. Now, let me focus."
"You're very bossy," I quip.
"That comes naturally to a boss."
"I get the sense I should know who you are."
Another tempting smirk. "Perhaps it's a welcome change to have anonymity..."
"What's your surname?"
"Please, Sera, let me be a man of mystery a little while longer."
He gets back to work, concentrating, his huge hands handling the tiny tools with surprising dexterity. Soon, he arranges all the pieces on the table.
"We're going to have to use a hairdryer on the lowest setting for these components," he says, shaking his head. "It's not normally recommended, but if you need quick results..."
"I do."
"Then let's get to it."