Lane
Pulling up to the five-star Hotel Dylan, I tossed my keys at the valet and yelled, “Leave it up front.” As if they wouldn’t. They kept all the hottest cars out in front, and my shiny midnight-blue German-engineered convertible was nothing less than the best.
But that wasn’t why I needed my ride in the circle. I was going to require a fast getaway after checking Bess into her suite. The heat circling the two of us was thicker than the air in Miami in August. The heavy clouds of passion that were cloaking us in their dark fury were about to burst. And while I wanted nothing more than precisely that, I needed to escape.
Fucking Bess right now would screw everything up. I wasn’t even sure whateverythingmeant, but right now I felt as though the fate of my heart and mind were tangled up in a waitress from Pennsylvania, and I needed to dissect that wide open—but in the privacy of my home.
“Good evening, Mr. Wrigley.” James, the dapper, way-too-chipper guy at the front desk, greeted me. “Welcome back to the Dylan. What can I help you with this evening? Will you be dining late with us? Should I call the restaurant?” he said with a wink.
As usual, he was eating me up with his eyes, and I could only imagine what must be running through his mind. With the relaxed casual clothes I was wearing and my hair more mussed than usual, I looked nothing like I normally did.
His cheeks pinked before he turned his gaze on the woman beside me. Bess was flushed from our time on the beach, her hair tousled and wind-whipped, long tresses partially obscuring her face and running down her back. Her gaze roamed the lobby while she wrapped her arms tightly around herself in her pink cardigan.
“Hello, James. No, I’ve already eaten, but I’d like to check in my guest from out of town.”
He leaned back, further inspecting Bess as his tongue took a lap around his lips. He smoothed a hand down the skinny European suit hugging his frame, which set off his hair that was perfectly combed like a pop star’s. “I see. And who may she be?”
“James, meet Bess Williams, a friend of mine from Pennsylvania.”
Who knew my little gay blade, my hook-up for quick reservations at one of South Beach’s hotspots, would put me through such scrutiny?
“I didn’t know you had any friends ... from Pennsylvania,” James said drolly.
I narrowed my eyes and said, “Well, now you do. Can we get Ms. Williams checked in for the evening? She’s had a long travel day.”
“Yes, of course. Right away. Nice to meet you, Ms. Williams,” James said as he started banging away on the computer in front of him, his movements exaggerated.
“Thank you,” Bess finally said.
I wasn’t sure who she was addressing, him or me, but James answered. “Oh, that’s what I’m here for, doll.”
When I eased my hand to Bess’s lower back, James eyed the action pointedly before he focused his laser beams on Bess, laying it on thick. “Have you been to our establishment before, Ms. Williams?”
What was he insinuating? She wasn’t an available-by-the-hour type, and he knew it.
“Um, no.”
“How about South Beach, doll?” He winked and batted his eyelashes.
She shook her head.
“Well,” he said to her with one eyebrow raised, “it looks like you found the right VIP bachelor to show you off around town.”
All at once, the scent of coconut coming from the candles in the lobby overwhelmed me. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, James. Do you have a room ready for Bess?”
I wasn’t having a dick-swinging contest with a lightweight whose feathers were ruffled over my attention, or lack thereof. James knew I was about as hetero as they came, and he also knew I didn’t do relationships. But there was no fucking way he was swooping in and pretending to be best-fucking-friends with my date. If he was trying to get to me, it was damn well working.
James stiffened slightly, then collected himself. “Of course. A suite just like you requested, Mr. Wrigley.”
“Good, now give her the key. I’ll help her upstairs.”
“Certainly.”
Once she had her room number and instructions for finding the elevators, Bess tried to grab her bag, but I got it first. I was annoyed enough with James, and I certainly didn’t want a valet either.
As we walked down the wide hallway with white curtains billowing on either side, tiny votive candles lit along the stone walkway marking our path, lust filled the air all around us. I had no idea how I was going to leave her at the door.
We stepped inside the elevator and I pulled her in close—her back to my front—after the elevator doors shut behind us, then I kissed the nape of her neck.
