Now I have no choice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After lookingdown the hall to ensure no one is going to catch me, I knock on the door to the suite. With my swimsuit clenched in my palm, I set my hands on my hips and wait.
Several seconds later, the door swings open, and there stands Mason, handsome as ever in a pair of jeans and a thermal long-sleeve. A few of the shirt’s top buttons are undone, and my eyes drift to the tanned V of skin just below his neck.
Mason scans my outfit. I’m still wearing shorts and a tank top, but I was smart enough to throw on a bra and long sweater cardigan.
Just the sight of him is enough to steal my breath, but my lingering irritation with Brandon curbs my usual reaction.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Mason crosses his ankles and leans a shoulder against the door frame. He looks completely at ease—as if he’s not worried someone’s going to spot us “fraternizing” and run to Tammy to rat us out.
I shrug.
“Come on in.” He steps away from the door, jerking his chin inward.
Before I step inside, I hold up my hand, which happens to contain my swimsuit. “Just for the record, I will not be wearingthis tonight.” His eyebrows shoot up, and my cheeks warm when I realize how he took my words. Before he can say something that will get him slapped, I amend my words. “You know what I mean. I’m not changing at all.”
A lazy grin spreads across his face, and his gray eyes spark with amusement. “Fine by me, but how will you explain your wet clothes when you’re walking back to your room?”
I purse my lips to keep from laughing. Darn it, he’slikable.“I can leave…”
“No hot tub.” Mason holds up his hands in surrender. “I understand. Now come in before we both get kicked off the show.”
And I want to—and not just because it would serve Brandon right, which is what I keep telling myself. The problem is, nice girls don’t accept invitations into guys’ hotel rooms.
As if reading the hesitation in my expression, Mason’s smile softens. “What if I promise to keep my hands to myself?”
Don’t say that,a little voice in the back of my head groans. “And I should trust your promise?”
Even if he’s not what I expected, he’s still a celebrity. I have no doubt he’s used to getting everything he demands.
“What if I swear on my favorite guitar?”
I scoff, two seconds from turning on my heel and marching back to my room, where I belong.
“Get in here,” he says with an exasperated laugh, wrapping a warm hand around my shoulder and tugging me inside. Sadly, he unhands me the moment the door shuts behind us. He takes a step back, studying me as he crosses his arms. “The musician angle isn’t going to work on you, is it?”
“Afraid not.”
He cocks his head to the side, and a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “In fact, it almost appears as if you’reoffendedby my occupation.”
And I am. The fact that I find him charming and handsome rankles me in the worst way. I am not Riley. I didn’t sigh over his albums; I didn’t hang his posters in my room. But I can’t deny the sight of him puts butterflies in my stomach, even if it’s obnoxious.
Instead of answering, I look around. The room’s a little small for a suite, to be honest. But he does have his own gas-burning fireplace and what appears to be a balcony that probably contains the aforementioned hot tub. A couch and two chairs face each other in the main living space, along with a television and a small kitchenette. An open door leads to the right, giving me a glimpse of a modest bedroom.
“I thought it would be…” I hold up my hand, motioning at the room.
“More?”
I nod.
He looks around. “I kind of like it. It’s all quaint and cozy, you know?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You do realize it’s still twice the size of a regular room. And it has a fireplace…and a hot tub.”
A knowing smile tugs on his lips. “Change your mind about that, have you?”
