Room service!
The sound of his voice sends a surge of excitement coursing through me. Every time I request room service, Pierre Gaultier, a cute server with a delightful French accent, brings my meals. He’s soft-spoken, very cordial, and has a killer smile.
I spring up from the couch in my excitement at seeing him again and completely forget about the rose and the note.
I look through the peephole before opening the door. I stand back, and Pierre enters, pushing the food cart, then closes the door behind him. The delicious aroma fills the space, and I can’t wait to dig in. For the past few months, I’ve been eating light meals to keep my weight in check, but tonight I’m going all out. I’ll need to put in extra effort to ensure I burn off the calories.
“Bonjour, Arabelle,” he says, and my stomach flutters. “How are you today?”
I can’t stop the smile from crossing my face. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, adds to his sexiness. And that voice, I can’t get enough of it. Hearing his French accent takes me back to my time in France.
“Hello, Pierre,” I say, almost unable to get the words out. “I’m doing well. How are you doing today?”
“It’s been hectic, but my shift is almost over, so that’s good. Where would you like me to set up your meal?”
“Over by the couch is fine.”
I motion to the small living area of the suite. He nods, and I follow him as he pushes the small dinner cart toward the couch.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
He removes the lids from the plates on my tray.
“Nothing.” I sit down on the couch. “Eat, then watch a movie. Maybe read a book, I guess.”
I don’t do much when I travel for work. Staying in, reading books, and watching movies is what I do in my spare time when I have it. My life is monotonous, filled with work and a constant stream of smutty books and old black-and-white films.
“What are your plans?” I ask as I open the bottle of water he hands me.
He takes a step back from the dinner cart, looks at me, then smiles. “I was hoping you would go with me to get a drink.”
“You want to get a drink with me?”
I’m not much of a drinker, but I do like the occasional glass of wine.
He laughs. “Yes, if you would like or if you don’t have a boyfriend?” His gaze shifts to the rose, then back to me. “I don’t want to cause any problems.”
No boyfriend, but I do have an admirer.
I shake my head. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend, and I would love to get a drink with you.”
He releases a breath, and a look crosses his face that I can’t make out before he masks it.
“I get off in a couple of hours,” he says. “Would that be a good time?”
I look at my watch, and it’s still pretty early, so I won’t be out too late. A couple of glasses of wine won’t hurt.
“Sure,” I say. “Give me your phone.”
He reaches into his back pocket, grabs his phone, puts in his password, and then hands it to me. I add my name and number to the contacts, then return the phone.
“Text me when you’re available.”
He smiles. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“It’s a date,” I say, and his smile widens.
He walks to the door, then leaves, and I settle down to eat.
