Page 13

Tina

I t took two of the cleaning crew to pry us free. Thankfully, my shorts stayed in place, but I can’t say the same for my top. One of the men gave my fully exposed right boob an appreciative smile before Dustin shoved him and the woman out of the room.

Alone now, Dustin leans into my space and plucks a French fry from my cleavage, popping it in his mouth. “Mmm, salty. Could use some secret sauce, though.” He gestures to my crotch and waggles his eyebrows. I guess we’re back to being playful. The way he runs hot and cold confuses the hell out of me.

You’d have to be blind not to notice the huge wet spot on his pants or the sticky stain on my own clothes. I can’t tell if I’m more upset that he masturbated against me or that he didn’t wake me first and let me come along. I make a face to hide my interest. “That’s nasty.”

“I’ve got news for you.” He crowds in closer. “ I’m nasty.”

Last night, I got a taste of just how nasty he can be. I’m basically a born-again virgin dog-paddling my way through the shallow waters, and he wasn’t pulling any punches, taking me right into the deep end from the word go. A flush works its way up my neck until my whole face is one big ball of flames. I turn toward my suitcase, not wanting him to see what he does to me. Mainly because he left me unfinished, and my pride still stings.

The rejection and denial are all too familiar, and it’s not surprising I dreamed of Connor for the first time in years last night. In my dream, I followed Connor, whining and begging for answers. Dream Connor just stared at me with this blank look on his face before disappearing.

Dustin uses the shower first and I half-expect—okay, hope—he’ll come out in a towel again. When he walks out dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, I’m both impressed and disappointed. He looks older. More serious. The top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, showing a hint of the golden skin I know molds over gorgeous muscles. He smells so good my mouth begins to water. I swallow before I embarrass myself and start drooling. He begins buckling his belt, feeding the rich leather through the metal ring with nimble fingers. Is it hot in here?

He lowers to the only chair in the room and begins pulling his socks on. I’m still in the wrinkled clothes I wore to bed last night, sticky and smelling of sex. I should find them gross, but a part of me never wants to take them off. It’s proof I tempted someone enough to lose control.

He holds out his hand, gesturing to the phone in mine, wiggling his fingers impatiently. Irritated Dustin has returned. What a shame. I hurry over and place the device in his palm, trying not to think about how calloused it is or remember the feel of it on my sensitive skin.

He types out a message and his own phone pings. “There,” he says, handing my phone back.

I frown at the phone number he entered. Where have I seen it before? I open my notes app to double-check my suspicion. Sure enough, the number the mechanic gave Gramps is Dustin’s. “You had someone pick up my car?”

“I did.” He sits back in his chair, totally at ease.

I cock my head. “Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s a deathtrap.”

I’m embarrassed, sure, but also confused. How did he know my car was a POS? I’m also worried. “Dusty… I don’t have the money to get an oil change, let alone fix all the things wrong with my car.”

“It’s taken care of.”

I take a step in his direction. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m footing the bill.” His jaw ticks. “I’m not going to let you drive around unsafe.”

Two more steps and I’m between his spread legs. He tilts his head to meet my gaze. There’s a flash of pain and loss in his eyes before he blinks it away. He doesn’t have to say it: I know he’s thinking of the car accident that took our people away. An invisible fist squeezes my heart. I reach out, smoothing the worry lines on his forehead with my thumb. His skin is warm to the touch. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly and I enjoy the freedom to look at him unobserved. He’s so gorgeous. So masculine. There’s already prickly stubble growing on his jawline, and I drag my nail along the abrasive skin. He shivers and I do it again.

“Okay, Dusty.” If fixing my car eases some of his worry, I’ll let him. It’s the least I can do. I bend and kiss his forehead before stepping away.

He shakes his head and it’s fascinating how quickly he brushes it off. The man has so many faces.

I resume my search for clothes to wear that I won’t melt in. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“First,” he says, checking his watch, “I need coffee.” I’ve always thought a big chunky wristwatch on a man was sexy. He notices me staring and smirks while circling the watch face with his forefinger. The same finger he used on me. He taps the watch once before he turns all business again. “I’m meeting someone downstairs in twenty minutes. At some point, we need to move our shit to the new room I got us. Then I’ve got some interviews this afternoon at the new office and a meeting with the equipment manager. After we head to the new gym location.”

I know about the interviews. Christian was thoughtful enough to forward Dustin’s itinerary to me. But I wasn’t aware Dustin had made the room switch arrangements already or planned to head to the gym. “I thought the hotel was full?”

He shrugs. “Money talks, baby. Plus”—he gestures to the destroyed bed—“we’re somewhat celebrities now. Believe it or not, it’s not every day a bed breaks and the staff gets flashed an impressive tit.”

He thinks my tits are impressive. It’s not the most flattering assessment, so why does it make my heart beat faster and my nipples tingle?

Dustin stands, tugging his slacks down at the thighs, and heads for the exit. I watch the way his muscles flex beneath his clothes. It’s hard to believe, for a brief moment, I had all those pressed up against me. It was glorious. “Are we spending the whole day together?” I ask, not as opposed to the idea as I might have been yesterday.

He turns in the open doorway and scans my body. “Why, you sick of me already?” His lips curl in a sneer and I brace myself for what he’s about to say. “Oh, right. I forgot one-night stands are your specialty.”

After his jab, he walks out, leaving me standing here with my mouth hanging open, shocked Connor told him about our one night together. Why is every moment with Dustin more confusing than the last?

Determined to not start my first day running late, I rush to the bathroom. With a failing water heater at home, I’m no stranger to quick showers. I peel my shorts down my legs and kick them aside, yanking my shirt over my head at the same time. I give myself a moment to marvel at the speed at which the water turns hot before stepping underneath the spray.

Taking care to thoroughly scrub all areas, I decide to start the day with not only a clean body but a clean mind as well. Moving forward, Dustin and I will be purely professional. No more body-to-body contact. No more exchanging bodily fluids. No more picturing him naked. Of course, it’d be a lot easier to follow these new directives if the scent of his body soap wasn’t still in the air.

Surely, smelling his body wash doesn’t count as breaking the rules, right? With no one here to talk some sense into me, I take his body wash in hand and flip the cap open. The first hit of his scent nearly knocks me on my butt. My toes curl into the shower floor and tremors work their way over my flesh. Shaking, I return the bottle to the shelf and place one of my hands on the shower wall for support. Holy cow. I can’t remember the last time I had such a strong physical reaction to something.

Pushing thoughts of a soapy Dustin aside, I manage to complete the task of washing myself without any more distractions. I step out of the shower and dry off quickly with one of the fluffy white towels, picking up Dustin’s discarded one from the floor and hanging them both on hooks behind the door when I’m done. It’s all so domestic, sharing this small space with him, the men’s razor and the hairbrush on the sink counter next to mine.

Enough fantasizing, it’s time to decide which sweater to wear in one-hundred-degree weather. Ugh. I exit the bathroom, stopping in my tracks when I see the shopping bags and coffee cup on the credenza under the television. What did he do? I turn the cup so I don’t have to see the stupid nickname written on the side and take a sip. A hint of cinnamon and a splash of vanilla creamer hit my tastebuds, and I groan. Damn him, it’s perfect.

Contrary man, I think as I paw through the clothes in the bag. I’ve never felt fabric so buttery soft before. Jesus, there must be ten dresses in here, all with hefty price tags. Maybe I should be offended he thinks my thrift store finds aren’t good enough, but all I feel is grateful I don’t have to sweat my ass off.

After careful consideration, I go with the powder-blue dress. Its short sleeves, high neckline, and cinched waist make me feel… pretty. Who knew a guy with only brothers would have such good taste in women’s clothes? I give my reflection one final glance. With my hair in a low ponytail and the dress’s hem hitting just below my knees, I look tastefully professional—not like a woman who broke a bed in a night of unbridled passion.

I slip my feet into the kitten heels I brought and grab our keycards. The concierge at the front desk looks up from his computer with a friendly smile. “Good morning, ma’am. How may I help you?”

“I’d like to get the keycards for my new room, please.”

“I’d be happy to help with that. What’s your old room number?”

Inwardly, I cringe, but outwardly I keep my face as blank as possible when I recite the digits he’s requested.

He taps away on his keyboard, expression neutral. I see the moment he connects me to the broken bed and the inadvertent flash of boob. He tries to hide his reaction, but I see the small smirk playing on his lips before he clears his throat. “Ah, yes, here we are.” There’s more tapping before he presents me with two new cards. “Would you like someone to come up and assist you with your… luggage?”

Is it just me, or did his gaze shift to my chest? “No, thank you.” With as much dignity as I can muster, I hurry away, feeling his eyes on my back the whole way to the elevator.

I stand in our new room staring at the one bed. No way did Dustin choose this after last night’s… God, what do I call what happened last night anyway? The whole thing is so unreal, I laugh at the absurdity of it the whole time I’m wheeling our luggage from our old room to the new one. If my bottom didn’t still feel tender, I’d almost believe it didn’t happen.

Since we only have one more night here, I don’t bother unpacking. Checking the time, I realize we need to hustle if we’re going to get to the office in time for Dustin’s first interview, and I haven’t heard from him since he left earlier—no surprise there. On my way back down to the lobby, I order a car before pulling up Dustin’s number.

ME: Meet me in the lobby.

DUSTY: Yes, ma’am.

I pocket my phone, deciding to ignore the undercurrent of sarcasm in his response. Hands down, “ma’am” is better than “mouse.”

The elevator doors open, and I emerge onto the lobby floor near the casino. I pass the section with slot machines where people mindlessly tap away, hoping to win it big. Like boxing, I never understood the appeal of gambling. The odds of walking away a loser seem too great and I don’t need any help in that area.

I’m busy pondering the odds a guest will do something more outrageous than breaking a bed, so the staff will forget all about me and Dustin, when I spot the man himself sitting on one of the couches near the hotel’s main entrance. I nearly laugh out loud because what I should have bet on was the chance Dustin would be alone when I found him.

The blonde woman with him sits with her back to me. A four-inch heel dangles from her toes over her crossed leg—no kitten heels for this woman. I feel like an amateur in comparison. For his part, Dustin looks relaxed, an easy smile plastered on his face.

I’m a few feet away when a man dressed in black appears out of nowhere. He positions himself behind the woman like a shadow, bending at the waist to whisper something in her ear. When she rises from her chair and the pair turn, I recognize Lucius and Rosaline right away.

Dustin looks me up and down, running his teeth over his bottom lip, and a pulse beats in my core. A cocky smirk replaces the smile from earlier. “Nice dress,” he says when I reach the trio.

I look down at myself, expecting to find an enormous stain (because that would be my luck, wouldn’t it?), but the dress is spotless. I lift my gaze back to Dustin’s and he raises a brow while fingering the collar of his dress shirt. It dawns on me that my dress matches his shirt exactly. Playing it off like it doesn’t matter, even though I feel ridiculous, I turn to greet Rosaline and Lucius.

“Hello, Rosaline, right? I’m Mous… Tina.” Dustin snickers at my mess-up. The only thing stopping me from throwing my purse at him is I need this job.

Rosaline shakes my hand, insisting, “Rosa, please.” Her Hispanic accent makes the words roll off her tongue.

I offer Lucius my hand next. To my surprise, he brings the back of my palm to his mouth and presses a kiss there. When his dark eyes flick to mine, I feel trapped in their pull. This must be what Amelia Earhart experienced being sucked into the black hole. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tina.”

Tina is such an average name, not much to work with, but he makes it sound almost sexy. A scoff comes from Dustin’s direction but when I glance his way, his attention is on his phone. “I better call for a car or we’ll be late,” he says.

“I already did.” I fight a grin when he stares at me in shock. “It should be here any minute.” I turn to the others. “Will you be needing a ride somewhere?”

Lucius smiles. “No, thank you. I brought my car.”

Dustin stands abruptly. “We’ll meet you at the gym before dinner.” He places a hand on the small of my back, steering me towards the exit. A charged current travels from my tailbone to my nape, making me stumble. “Easy, mouse.” He leans in close to my ear. “You’re so close to pulling off the put-together professional.”

“You’re such an ass.” I open the back door to our ride, slapping his hand away before he can do it for me. The small defiance pleases me to no end, and him too, if his heated look is anything to go by.

I greet the driver with a friendly smile, then turn to watch the traffic out my window as I speak to Dustin. “And stop calling me mouse.”

He laughs. “I will when you earn it.”