Tyler shakes his head, a tight smile pulling at his lips and my attention. I’ve never seen this expression. It exudes the same level of contradiction and lies that my heart currently is. He shifts so he’s beside me again, placing a hand on my lower back. “Chloe, this is Ken Avery. He works with the management company that oversees the hotels in the Southwestern and Eastern regions. Avery, this is my friend Chloe Robinson.”
Appreciation dances in his gaze as he takes my hand, his handshake weak and cold. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Robinson.”
“You as well.” I discreetly rub my hand across the denim of my shorts.
“Perhaps we could sit and get some coffee?” Mr. Avery suggests, confusing me when his gaze remains on me as he poses the question.
Tyler’s gaze quickly flashes to me, a sign of hesitation and annoyance. I can hear his thoughts, confirming I need to wait before heading to find doughnuts.
I plaster a fake smile on my face, hating that I’m giving in so easily. “I’ll go back upstairs. Vanessa and Cooper should be ready soon.”
“No. We’ll make it fast.” Tyler’s hand at my waist strokes up my side several inches, then travels down the same span, making my heart beat erratically as we follow Mr. Avery across the lobby and past the front desk, where a woman in a cream suit smiles kindly at us and then grows brighter as she recognizes Tyler.
We stop at a door where Mr. Avery signals for someone to open it. Inside is a small room with a single round table and a row of windows along the top, too high to see out of.
“I heard you have concerns regarding some of the hotels we oversee,” Mr. Avery says, smiling as he gestures to the table for Tyler and me to have a seat.
Tyler remains still, his hand stilling at my waist. Then he takes a breath, and his hand slips from my side, reaching for the chair in front of me. He pulls it out for me and takes the seat to my left.
Mr. Avery grins, revealing this is a posturing game—one for which I don’t understand the rules or purpose. “I wish you had called and let me know you were going to be here. We could have gone golfing or out to dinner.” Mr. Avery finally sits. “I’d like to discuss some of these questions you’ve been asking because you seem to be upsetting some people.”
Tyler leans back in his chair and raises one hand to his jaw, where he runs his thumb along the underside of his chin, drawing my attention to the shadow from not having shaved this morning. It’s deliciously distracting. “Upsetting people? If my questions are upsetting people, it just confirms I’m on the right path, wouldn’t you agree?” He grins—all teeth.
Mr. Avery glances at me as my attention volleys to him. His smile is equally threatening but a much better lie. “Our company has a long-standing relationship with your father. He allows us autonomy to conduct business as we see fit, and we both benefit.”
I wish I could see Tyler’s expression because he’s silent for too long, leaving me to guess what’s going on. “Yet he was completely unaware that four of your locations were hemorrhaging money.”
“Hemorrhaging?” Mr. Avery laughs. “This is a business. It has its ups and downs. The markets change, the needs change.”
“Fantastic. Then get the information I’ve requested, and I’ll gladly leave you to continue managing.” Tyler pushes his chair back and stands, extending a hand to me.
I take it and follow him around the table, glancing at Mr. Avery as he remains in his seat, fingers steepled as he feigns a smile.
Tyler opens the door for me and only makes it a few steps before another man in a suit approaches him, asking for his signature on some documents he seems to be expecting. Tyler gives me an apologetic look. “It will take two minutes.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him.
He follows the man behind the counter, their heads bowed as they go over the documents.
“Are you local, Ms. Robinson?” Mr. Avery asks, surprising me as my thoughts linger on Tyler.
I shake my head, confused by his question. “No.”
His eyes deliberately scan the front of me, his gaze predatory as it returns to mine. “Here’s my card. I’d love to hire you.” He offers me the business card he’d been holding, clearly anticipating this conversation.
“Hire me?”
“Do you charge by the hour or day?”
My gaze narrows with realization, my shock so great I can’t respond.
He reaches forward, tucking the card into my purse and turns, whistling as his dress shoes tap across the tiled lobby.
It’s personal—toward Tyler, not me—I have no doubt. Still, my stomach sours, and for a moment I want to march over and show the evidence to Tyler before Mr. Avery leaves, but then doubt settles in my thoughts. Does Tyler hire prostitutes? I recall that woman he admitted to hiring in New Orleans. My blood drains from my face and goosebumps dance across my skin, making the chilled lobby feel arctic. I was mistaken for a prostitute!
Do I look like a prostitute?
I glance at my Chucks, denim shorts, and hot pink tee and feel myself spiraling with more doubt as Ricky’s words continue to haunt me: tease, uptight, prude.
“Chloe?” I blink several times, pushing the thoughts to the back of my mind as Tyler stares at me, brows lowered with concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer too quickly.
“The doughnut shop is this way. Come on.”
I follow him, my appetite nonexistent as we step out into the morning heat. Tyler swears, glancing skyward as his hand returns to my waist again.
Do I care if he’s hired prostitutes?
Caring would insinuate it matters to me on a personal level.
His fingers gently stroke my back, and he points at one of the hotels across the street. “We need to be sure to stop in there. You’ll love it, and they have a chocolate fountain that you guys will lose it over.”
I glance at him, painfully aware of the pounding in my chest that happens whenever he’s near is becoming louder and stronger when he reminds me that despite how long we’ve both worked to avoid each other—he’s getting to know and understand me. I want to claim it’s new, but that would just be another lie sewn into our history because it’s been there since the first time I met him in downtown Seattle when Cooper and I thought he was late. Cooper apologized for his friend’s tardiness as Tyler showed up ten minutes late, but when we left an hour later, a homeless person thanked him again for buying him groceries. That was my first encounter with the sour and sweet balance that is Tyler Banks, that I strive so hard to understand and evade because everything about him is as confounding as it is intriguing and terrifying, and I knew with the scores of girls who have been chasing him since the first day of school, anything between us would only ever lead to heartache.
“What’s wrong?” he asks when I don’t respond to his comment about the fountain from heaven.
I shake my head, busying myself with staring at the expansive lobby of another hotel. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod again, plastering on a smile as his blue gaze flickers to mine. “Is everything okay with the hotels?” I ask in an attempt to divert, run, and hide from these thoughts and the fact he’s sensing them.
His fingers at my waist constrict, and he tips his chin, indicating we need to turn the opposite direction. “They’re fine, or rather, they will be. Something just isn’t adding up.”