“You can stay in my room.” Even as the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. But what else could she do? As much as she’d wanted him to suffer all those years ago, now that she’d seen him again, there was no way she could let him spend the night in the pseudo lobby on a firm club chair. “But if you think I’m sharing a bed with you, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
He stepped toward the elevator. “Come on, Campbell. If you don’t want to sleep in the same room, you can always take the tub.”
“But…” Her words faded as the elevator door opened. Second thoughts fluttered through her head. As she glanced at the desk clerk, she weighed her options.
Ms. No Vacancy crossed her arms over her ample chest as she licked her lips. “You don’t want to sleep with that hunk of delicious man? Honey, I get off in an hour and will let you crash at my apartment if you want to trade places.”
“Um, no…no thank you.” Reagan followed Zach into the elevator, already regretting the arrangement.
A few minutes later they stood in front of a dingy door that had seen better days.
“This is us.” Zach held his hand out for the key.
Reagan shoved it in the slot, and a green light blinked on.
“Ready or not…” He flung the door open, and the smell hit her. Dank and musty. How many different types of mold spores would she inhale if she dared enter the room?
Zach walked ahead and flipped on the desk lamp. One bulb burned soft white while the other cast an incandescent yellow glow. The combination of two different types of light assaulted her optical senses, and she cringed. He let his pack slide off his shoulder and onto the floor next to the bed.
The single double bed.
“Oh no. This is a mistake. A double? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Reagan paced the tiny room, gesturing with her hands, shaking her head, and muttering made-up words under her breath.
Time to talk her down. Way down. “Hey, it’s fine. You take the bed. I’ll take, uh…” He looked around the room. No wonder they shoved a double bed in here. No room for even a few more inches to accommodate a queen much less a rollaway. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes, and I can check back in at the desk to see if anything opened up.”
She slumped into the threadbare desk chair. “I can’t get out of these wet clothes yet.”
“A deal’s a deal. Hold up, I’ve got something that will work.” Looked like Reagan was down to the last straw and about to dive head-first into crazy land. He unzipped his bag and searched through his pile of T-shirts. Settling on an oversized V-neck, he tossed it at her. “Try this one.”
“I got crabs?” she asked, reading the slogan on the front of the white tee as she held it up against her chest.
“It’s from Rudy’s Crab Shack. Best crab legs in LA.”
She tossed the shirt on the bed and searched for her phone. “You can keep your crabs to yourself. I’m calling the airline. My bag had to be on the first bus. Either that or someone walked away with it.”
“I doubt you’ll be able to reach anyone. They were shutting down the airport in Lexington when we pulled away. The reps at the 800 number aren’t going to know anything.” He should know better than to try to talk her out of an idea once it took hold. As she pulled her phone out of her purse, he snagged his toothbrush and headed into the bathroom.
By the time he finished brushing his teeth and changing into a dry pair of boxers, she was off the phone, slumped in the chair. She’d taken off her wet jacket. Her white cotton button-down clung to her figure. If she’d been anyone else, he’d have half a mind to see if she wanted him to soap up her back in a nice, warm shower.
But she wasn’t anyone else.
She was Reagan, the only woman he’d ever uttered those three little words to. And she was part of a potential job. His last low-life job. Even though he hadn’t figured out how to handle the threat from Scazzoli yet, he still had to string him along. At least until it was too late for him to send someone else.
Don’t mess with a woman if there’s money on the line. That was the one piece of advice his mentor, Jack, had passed along that Zach had taken to heart. He’d fallen in with the semi-retired photographer on a last-minute assignment for a woman’s lingerie catalog. He’d been young, a little green around the edges, and a little too stimulated by the scores of half-naked tens strutting around the set.
Good ole Jack. Cuffed him upside the head and told him to stop thinking with his dick. That if he wanted to make a name for himself, he needed to steer clear of the models. Of course, it only applied if they were actually part of the shoot he’d been assigned to. Didn’t stop him from enjoying their company between jobs.
“What did you find out?” he asked.
Her head jerked up, and her gaze met his then drifted down, widening as it skimmed his bare chest. She looked away, her gaze focusing on a spot on the dingy carpet. “They don’t know where my bag is but they sent a trace out on it and should have some info for me by morning.”
“Well, that’s a start.” He picked the shirt up off the bed and tossed it at her again. “The crabs are all yours, then.”
She didn’t flinch as the shirt landed in her lap. But then her gaze drifted back up, settling at the waistband of his boxers.
His dick stirred under her overt attention. He ran his hands up and down his washboard abs. No beer belly for him. He spent so much time around human perfection, he felt like he had to do what he could to hang in there.
“Do I have lint in my belly button or something?” he asked.
A red flush spread from her chest to her neck to her cheeks. She jumped out of the chair. “Don’t you own pajamas?”
“Hell, I usually sleep in the buff. Figured I’d be a gentleman with the boxers. I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?”
“I called the front desk. They don’t have any other rooms so we’re stuck together.”
“If you want me to go, I’ll find a place to hang out downstairs.”
She shook her head. “No. Like you said, a deal’s a deal. I’m just…zoning out. A good night’s sleep and an early morning flight will get me back on track. So much to do before the wedding on Saturday.” She took the T-shirt, grabbed her purse, and moved toward the bathroom.
So the wedding was on Saturday. It had only taken him about seven hours to glean that little nugget of information. Still, progress was progress.
She turned before she disappeared through the doorway to the bathroom. “By the time I come out, can you please have the lights out and the covers pulled back on my side of the bed? You can be on top.”
“You sure? I’m not a huge fan of the missionary position. I find it much more mutually satisfying if the woman is on top. Or even better, if she’s kneeling with her—”
“Sleep! On top of the covers. You’ll sleep on top of the covers, and I’ll sleep underneath. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Damn, she looked so cute with that flustered, out-of-control blaze in her eyes. He didn’t have to keep pushing her buttons, but he liked the way the flush of pink tinted her cheeks and the way she pursed her lips when he’d hit an especially raw nerve. With all that just-below-the-surface fire she kept reined in so tight, he’d bet if she let it all loose in the sack she’d be a real wildcat. Too bad he’d never had the chance to find out.