“Stay in touch, hey?”I say lightly.
“I’d love to,” he replies, his eyes darting down the hallway, toward the sound of another door opening.“See you around, Chloe.”
I watch as he pushes through the door to the stairwell, a little relieved to be alone.But just as I step back to let the door swing shut, a large, socked foot inside a red-and-green Gucci slide appears in the doorframe to block it.
“What the hell are you doing?”says that familiar husky voice.
I drop all the paperwork and my purse onto the side table and pull the door back open, looking up to see Matt Warner standing there—towering, really—his palm high and flat against the doorframe, a black sleeveless T-shirt hanging loose around those strong racer shoulders.My eyes drop to his black cotton boxer shorts and the short tufts of curly hair on his hard thighs.I linger on the taut athleticism of those legs just long enough to make my own feel a little weak.
NO.This isn’t undeniable attraction talking.It’s the three Singapore slings on an empty stomach.Please let it be the booze.
“What areyoudoing in the hallway, with no pants on?”I ask, snapping my head back up to meet his glare.“Sneaking in and out of hotel rooms seems a little crude, even for you.”
“I’m not...what?”Matt snarls at me.
“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”
“The better question is why was Jack Sheppard in your room?”he barks.
“Er...none of your business,” I reply, my eyes grazing his stubbled jaw, which is grinding with irritation.
“He’s a reporter.”
“He’s a friend.”
“He’s a virus in plimsoles,” Matt snaps, and in my slightly woozy state, I struggle hard not to laugh.
“It’s only Jack.Jesus.Nothing happened.”
Matt’s eyes dart down the corridor as a couple fall out of the lift, drunk, and make their way down the hallway toward us to their room.
Matt pushes past me into my room.
“Quick, shut the door before I’m spotted,” he orders.
Oh, because he’ssucha celebrity.I should say no, but instead, I step forward, letting the door close behind me as we are plunged into the dim golden glow of my bedside lamp.The suite, with its rich dark furnishings, feels suddenly very small, and so I shrink myself back against the wall, trying to create as much space as possible between us.Matt peers out the window, then yanks the curtains shut and begins to pace the room.
“We just had a drink.He wanted to congratulate me on my new job.It was nice, you know, to have someone notice that today was a big day forme,” I grumble, kicking off my shoes.Why am I explaining myself to him?
“Jack fucking Sheppard,” he says, before he stops to face me.I feel my heart kicking up a gear under his scrutiny.“You’re not dating him, are you?”
“What?No!” I let out an involuntary laugh, but Matt’s expression remains deathly serious.The little hairs on the back of my neck begin to tingle.He seems so...botheredby the possibility.
“He’s an old friend,” I protest, all the anger and upset of our past in very real danger of bubbling up inside me.“Remember those?”
I swear I see him flinch; something uncatchable passes across his face before he regroups and crosses those strong bare arms across his chest.My god, those thick forearms and rounded biceps.It should be fucking illegal to wield them in public.
I shake my head.I’m more tipsy than I thought.
“Don’t be so naive, Chloe.”He takes a step toward me, and I suddenly feel pinned by his unwavering gaze.
“Fuck you.I’m not naive,” I reply, forcing myself to straighten up, step forward, and meet him.I mirror his stance, arms folded.“Don’t talk down to me, you asshole.”
He tilts his head.“You don’t know what it’s like in this league.”His voice is quieter now, as he takes another step closer.
“I don’t need you to help me.”
Matt doesn’t reply, the corner of his mouth twitching uncertainly.
