At the second knock, Aleks stalked to the door, intending to direct whoever it was—probably some drunken business traveler—that they had the wrong room.
He pulled it open and his words dried up. “What?—”
He’d never seen the woman standing outside his door and yet he still knew her immediately. Hot and sweaty, high-tech workout clothes, dark hair and all, even angled away like she was about to leave, heknewher.
“Portia? What are you doing here?”
Chapter9
His head spunas his brain conjured reasons for her to be back at his hotel. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Was she here for a repeat performance? His heart—and brain—almost stuttered to a stop with that thought. He slammed the door shut on the possible scenarios his wayward brain was cooking up.
She looked at him and their gazes met. “We should talk. Can I come in?”
“Yes. Of course.” He stepped back into the room, holding the door open so she could enter.
Portia looked left and right down the hallway, then slipped inside. Aleks gripped the door and as he closed it, he checked the hall too. All clear.
When he turned around, it was to find Portia all the way across the room, staring out the privacy-shaded window. Her hands were tucked into her pockets.
He approached slowly, making sure she could hear him coming. He didn’t want to startle her.
Questions bounced around his head and he clenched his jaw to keep from blurting them out. The suspense might kill him, but he’d let her start.
“I love this city.” She spoke without turning around.
Aleks took it as an invitation and joined her at the window, standing close enough to hear her, but not crowd her. “It seems to be a very nice city,” he said carefully.
“Seattle will never be a New York or San Francisco, but we’re still a world-class city. High technology nestled in a beautiful location.” She turned to face him now.
He shifted sideways to watch her and waited to see where she was going with this.
“At least, that’s what I’ve always been told. I’m used to seeing it from this high. More an abstract painting than a true city. Dizzie’s the one who knows it inside out at the ground level.”
“Your sister.”
The words fell between them. There was no explosion, just a subtle tightening of her lips.
She sighed. “I spoke with her this afternoon. Told her that your employers wanted to meet her.”
“What did she say?” He asked because it was expected, not because he cared at the moment. Portia fascinated him and he wanted to talk about her, not her sister. Wanted to get to know the real woman instead of the digital dossier.
She opened her mouth and his gaze dropped to her lips. Memories of kissing her, of the enticing blend of whiskey and her essence flooded him.
“She didn’t say anything,” Portia said.
That pulled him back to the present. “What? She won’t meet them?”
Portia laughed. “She didn’t say anything at all. Honestly, I think she was overwhelmed.”
His brows furrowed. In light of that, Portia’s presence made no sense. “If she didn’t agree, then why are you here?”
“Idontknow.” Her words ran together and she turned back to the window, pressing her palm against the glass.
His brain picked up the puzzle that was Portia Tremaine again. Was she here to see him? Needing a distraction, he fell back on the manners his grandparents had drilled into him. “Can I get you something to drink?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Water, please. I’m always thirsty after I run.”
“Youranhere?” he blurted. Her workout attire made sense now, but the thought of her running alone through the streets at dusk chilled him to the bone.
