I frown at the closed door. Makewhatup to me?
We’re not keeping score, but if we were, I’m winning as far as orgasms go. I was simply trying to level the playing field. Be a conscientious partner and give him some morning delight.
I felt so good just two minutes back. What the hell happened?
I wasn’t trying to be nosy or sound controlling. I complimented him, really, and then I got curious. I mean, I guess maybe some men are born with the natural ability to go down on a woman, just like how Mozart basically emerged from the womb composing. He wroteMinuet and Trio in G majoraround the age of five. Maybe giving women oral pleasure is Kellin’s God-given gift.
It was silly to make him uncomfortable like that, especially after the Florence Nightingale treatment I received yesterday. Thanks to my mystery bug, the man’s work schedule is probably on tilt.
As much as I’d love to lie here and bathe in the sheets saturated with his scent, I have to get to work too. In my world, one sick day is one too many.
I drag my butt into the shower.
Forty minutes later, after dismissing my worries about his abrupt departure and instead choosing to remember the Kellinthat smiled up from between my thighs—I head down to the lobby.
“Sick day, my ass.” Lenora practically races up to me and slugs me in the arm.
“Um, ouch.” I shake my head but can’t stop smiling. “I was sick. A virus. I felt like hell.”
Her eyes flick over my maroon pantsuit. “Lie. You’re a liar. You’re glowing.”
My cheeks warm, and I can only imagine what the rest of my face is doing. I want to spill the tea to my closest employee and friend, I really do, but it’s the beginning of a workday. “Talk to me about flowers. Has Jordan given final approval?”
“Yes. And check it out.” Lenora pulls up an image on her phone of a crystal vase cascading with dahlias, roses, and foliage in deep purples and mauves. “Les Fleurs outdid themselves once again. We said autumn and moody and voilà.”
Like a teenage girl with her first crush, I flash to an image of myself in a strapless satin Vera Wang wedding gown, a bouquet resembling this stunning table setting spilling down my dress as I walk down the aisle to meet Kellin.
Holy shit. What the hell am I thinking about? A few orgasms, and here I am already picking out our gift registry.
Pull it together, Maeve.“They really did. These are gorgeous.” My fingers fly across the keyboard of one of the computers at the front counter. “Did Armand’s parents get in? I know their flight was delayed?—”
“They’re jet-lagged. But Blaze Starr checked out a day early. Some author emergency.” Lenora rolls her eyes.
I’m wondering what qualifies as an author emergency too. But, still, we don’t roll our eyes over guests. At least not while we’re in the main lobby.
I fix her with a pointed stare which she, of course, ignores. “Anyway, I upgraded them to his deluxe suite.”
“Perfect. You’re a life saver.” I pivot toward the grand entrance that’s flanked by lush palms. They’re breathtaking, and I always spare a second to admire them. “Let’s grab some macchiatos and go over today’s schedule.”
As we march toward the café, heels clicking almost manically on the Italian marble—we hustle for a living—Brody busts through the double doors, using both of them for his dramatic entrance.
So unnecessary.
“Brody,” we say in unison while swerving around him.
He pivots. “Maeve. Can we talk?”
I stop with a huff.
“I’ll grab the coffees and give you ten.” Lenora spins in those Jimmy Choos. As she does, her flared black slacks swoop and swirl around her heels.
With Lenora gone, I drag Brody behind one of the palms. I don’t need the whole hotel watching me squabble with my brother. “What is it?”
“I just wanted to check on you. Lenora mentioned you were sick yesterday.”
I fight the scowl attempting to bloom on my face. I don’t want to frown too much and give myself premature wrinkles. “Why would you tell Dad I was with a guy? I mean, seriously?”
His eyebrows knit together. “I’m looking out for you.”
