This lobby—the entire hotel—is gorgeous.
What a shame if I have to burn it all down.
But I’ll do whatever’s necessary.
Because failure isn’t an option.
I need to pick up the pace on this operation.
After one last sip, I set my coffee on the counter and “accidentally” spill it across the desk. The hot liquid pools toward the computers.
“Oh, shit. Sorry about that.” I lock eyes with Lola-Grace, who’s already started mopping the mess up with the small napkin from the muffin she just finished eating.
Did I buy her that muffin as a bribe? Maybe.
Lola-Grace flashes me a smile, showing off the dimples in her round cheeks. “Not to worry, Mr. Jameson. Happens all the time. I’ll take care of it.”
She dries up what she can before hurrying through the staff door behind the counter for napkin reinforcements, her dark, stylish pixie cut disappearing through the wood.
I glance around to ensure no one’s watching. There are cameras throughout the lobby, but with Rory’s help, I’ve tapped into them and memorized their angles. With a sleight of hand, Ipop a sleek, undetectable USB drive into the back of the all-in-one desktop.
Just in time, too, because here comes Maeve.
She struts to the counter, heels clacking on the marble, and holds up a finger when I open my mouth to greet her. She’s got her phone pressed against her ear, a displeased crease in her forehead. Hotels never sleep, and problems clearly arrive at all hours of the day.
Maeve leans back against the check-in desk, tapping her nails on the counter as she listens to the other side of the conversation. Since I’m waiting anyway, I allow myself a moment to drink her in.
Her wavy chestnut hair is gathered into a long ponytail at the back of her head, giving her a more severe appearance. More fuckable too. Beneath her black blazer, a violent red top—tight, but not revealing—adds a pop of eye-catching color. The shade matches the tips of her otherwise black stilettos. Between those shoes and the ponytail, I can barely look at her without getting hard. Not when I’m torn between bending her over in those heels, sliding that pencil skirt up, and screwing her from behind or wrapping that ponytail around my hand and shoving her to her knees.
She’s understated, classy, managerial…and sexier than anything on a porn channel. Utterly impossible to ignore.
I have no idea how I summoned the willpower to decline her advances last night. She was aching for me, desperation blazing in her gaze, and I somehow managed to walk away without kissing her like she so clearly wanted.
Hell, likeIwanted.
Seduction is part of the plan—and a hell of a perk—but I never expected to slip under her skin quitethis fast. Or her bold attempt to come on tome.
She’s a wealth of surprises. Full of unexpected twists. I hope today is no exception.
After last night, I’m not sure what kind of greeting to expect from her once she finishes this call. Maybe she’ll be embarrassed because I refused her. The thought of her holding a grudge amuses me.
She slips her cell into her pocket, heaving a sigh that belongs at the end of a long day rather than the start of one.
I offer the caramel macchiato. “Good morning, Maeve.”
She blinks at the drink before warmth infuses her expression, tinting her cheeks pink. “Good morning. Thank you for this.”
That smile lights up the whole room.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
Yet again, I wonder if, with just the right touch, that pink would travel down her neck. Her chest. Farther, even.
Clearing my throat, I shove the thoughts aside.
I wave toward the lobby. “I’m here for?—”
“Thefulltour. I remember. I’m ready when you are.” She sips from her coffee cup and sighs in delight.
