“Oh. My. God!”
Ben throws his hands up in surrender, keeping his voice exceedingly low, as if coaxing me to do the same. I’m certain he’s praying I won’t bring any unwelcome attention our direction after he’s managed to get this far in his charade. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
“This is crazy, Ben!” Honestly, this entire thing has been. “Now we’re supposed to be spending the night here?” My voice cracks under the strain of sheer disbelief. The rare indulgence of several glasses of wine tonight probably isn’t helping. Crossing my arms dramatically over my chest, I narrow my eyes. “I mean, I don’t know a thing about you. For all I know, you’re a serial killer.”
His stance relaxes a bit as he gives me a lopsided smile. It makes me utterly insane that it’s able to get me all gooey inside when I should be throwing a temper tantrum and heading for the door. “You’re on to me, Grace Kelly. But you’re not my type.”
Grace Kelly?For a girl who’s grown up relating more to redneck hillbillies than Hollywood starlets, the reference has me warming to him until his last words clear my brain fog, jolting me back into consciousness.
But you’re not my type.
Of course not. What would this insanely attractive older guy want with me? My mind flashes back to the ridiculous state he found me in, paw prints and all. I’m sure he’s regarding me like the white trash I’ve been associated my whole life, regardless of the endearing nickname.
This man is a virtual stranger. So why do I suddenly feel dejected over a guy I’ve just met?
Shrug this off, Grace. If you can keep going back to that awful boutique to work with Tiffani and Lauren every day, you can ignore this clever con artist. You’re not interested in men anyway right now,remember? No men. Especially the over the top handsome, sweet-talking variety.
“I’d rather massacre Captain Crunch.” He winks.
What? Oh. Cereal Killer.Cheese on a cracker, this annoyingly attractive dork. And why did that wink cause my brain to ignore everything I was just thinking while sending even more moisture southbound?
I practically palm myself in the forehead as Ben strolls over to the wet bar like he owns the place. Like this sexy swindler hasn’t got a care in the world. But then again, he probably doesn’t. Just like a man. Keeping a poor innocent girl trapped in his room to do his bidding.
“Why don’t I pour us a couple of drinks? We can sit and get to know each other while we wait for Milton to head home?”
Keeping my arms held to my chest, I let my shoulders fall, trying to relax while making a mental note to watch what he’s pouring carefully. I really shouldn’t have more than one drink after the wine I’ve already consumed tonight. Between the alcohol and the long days, I could be asleep before I have a chance to escape. “Sure,” I huff.
“So, tell me about yourself.”
The glare that crosses my features is instantaneous. “I feel like I’m being interviewed for a job. Shouldn’t you have done thatbeforeI was hired to play your fiancée?”
“Touché.” Ben removes the foil and small cage from a bottle of what appears to be high-dollar champagne. Where on earth did that come from? With an unpracticed ease that doesn’t seem to match the contractor before me, he opens the black bottle with a celebratory pop. The dazzling smile that crosses his face has that familiar ache building between my legs again.
C’mon, you sexpot. How long has it been, anyway? Is this really all it takes?
Ben strides over, extending a tumbler of champagne in my direction. “They don’t exactly have the best stemware here.” He chuckles. For a moment, I’m taken aback by his use of the word stemware. Hell. Brad would’ve chugged it straight from the bottle.
“Stemware? I’m shocked they have a bottle of bubbly here at all. Much less one that looks like that. Was that in the mini-fridge?”
“No.” He smirks. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion.” Ben lifts his glass, beaming down at me like he just won an election, not a construction job. But, then again, maybe obtaining this gigisa lucrative opportunity for him. My eyes flick about the room, and I have to fight wincing at the state of this hotel. I bite my lip to prevent raining on his parade. Heck, this place should keep him plenty busy. “To Grace Kelly, my good luck charm.”
My cheeks heat at his kind words, those mesmerizing blue eyes holding mine. Between his smoldering stare and that magnanimous smile, I’m suddenly lost for words. I nod like a simp and quickly take a sip of my champagne to cover for my momentary mutism.
“Good?”
“Yes.” I giggle until I realize I’ve downed half my glass already. Way to slow your roll, Grace.
Ben extends his arm in the direction of the uncomfortable couch in the sitting area. “Why don’t we sit? Don’t even bother to try to get comfortable.” He snickers. “I think the furniture might be made of granite.” He places his glass down on the sad little coffee table. “I’m going to dart back out and see if Milton’s made his way home yet.”
Holy cow. I’ve been so caught up in this sweet talker, I completely forgot the end goal was getting out of here.“Oh, good idea.”
“Be right back.” He winks again, and I nearly snap. He needs to stop doing that before I make a wet spot on this concrete couch.
The door has barely closed behind him before it’s opening again. Did he even have time to see the lobby and return? The overly suspicious wheels in my brain begin to spin as he plops down beside me. Ben reaches for his tumbler of champagne and takes a sip before rotating to face me. “Have you lived in Hanover long?”
I take it Milton’s still there.
Hmm. How to answer? I’m not certain I want to share too many personal details with this perfect stranger. I still don’t feel confident he’s more than a player at this point. And if my past has taught meanything, it’s that I need to be a lot more discerning with the men I let in.Keep it simple, Grace.“Yes. You?”
