Denham pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Damn…”
“It might be important. You should really see who it is. Anyway, I should go.” I turn and slip my card in the reader. The moment has gone, common sense has prevailed, and I really need to put a heavy, hardwood door between us for fear of what I might do if I stay where I am.
I step into my suite and leave Denham leaning against the door frame. “Goodnight, Mr. King.”
I hear him murmur, “Goodnight, Trouble,” before I softly close the door.
Chapter 6
Iwake to the sound of knocking. I have no idea of the time, but judging by the morning light it’s still early. I groan as I hear knocking again and I jump out of bed, throwing on a robe. I open the door and see the plump little man with the friendly face again.
“Breakfast, ma’am.”
I open the door wider, allowing him entrance and rubbing my hands across my face to wake me up. He wheels the trolley in, laying the table as he did yesterday and placing my breakfast down. There isn’t as much food as yesterday—pancakes and bacon, a pastry and a delicious pot of steaming hot fresh coffee. The smells invade my senses and my stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.
“Thank you…” I take a look at his name badge, “…Anthony. That’s very kind.”
“Will there be anything else, miss?”
“No, no. This is more than enough.”
“Very well.” He nods and leaves with a smile.
I pour myself a coffee and realize that he left a package on the table along with breakfast. It is wrapped in crisp, white tissue paper with gold embossed edging and a little card tucked in the ribbon. I pull out the card and open it.
Trouble,
A beautiful woman traveling alone should not be without a cell.
Denham x
Oh no. He did not just do that. I rip the paper off the box to find that yes, he did. He has bought me a cell phone. I turn the phone on and a message instantly pops up.
Denham: Now I have your number and you have mine…
I giggle out loud and shake my head at his persistence. He’s forward, I’ll give him that, but he does it in such a way that isn’t overbearing. His light-hearted banter has been just what I need these last couple of days, he hasn’t pushed or pried and for that I’m grateful.
Me: Do you always think of everything?
It takes me the length of time to pour my coffee before a reply comes back.
Denham:Yes
Me: Thank you, it’s a thoughtful gesture, but I can’t possibly accept it.
As much as I know he’ll be disappointed, I can’t accept this gift. He has been far too generous already.
Although I feel like I know him, which in itself is unfathomable, he really is a stranger.
Denham: You are an infuriating woman. Will you please just accept it as a gift? It would make me happy.
I think about my reply before I send it. There is something about him that wants me to say yes because it will make him happy and that makes me smile. And part of me wants to run miles away from the complications that are sure to come from accepting gifts from strange men, but he doesn’t feel strange to me. He feels calming, familiar, and most of all he makes me feel safe which scares the hell out of me.
I start to type a reply but can’t figure out what I want to say, so I put the cell down on the table and sit to eat the delicious breakfast in front of me. I manage two mouthfuls before it dings again.
Denham: You know it’s impolite to return gifts?
Denham: Just call it your cut of the winnings from last night.
