Madeline exhales slowly. I can practically see the gears turning in her head as she runs through every possible alternative, hating every single one of them. Finally, she presses her lips together. “Fine. We’ll take it.”
The woman brightens, relieved. “Excellent! I’ll just need a card for incidentals?—”
Madeline quickly hands over hers before I can reach for my wallet, because of course she does. The clerk finishes up, then produces a small envelope with two key cards, which she hands over with yet another apology.
“This is a nightmare,” Madeline mutters as we walk toward the elevators.
“Come on,” I say, keeping my tone easy. “Could be worse.”
She shoots me a sideways look. “How, exactly?”
I grin. “Two beds.”
I swear she’s about to smack me, but she thinks better of it. She gives me a look that could cut through glass though, and it’s worth it.
FOURTEEN
Madeline
If there’s a hell specifically designed for Type-A people, I’ve officially checked in. How could the hotel have gotten my reservation wrong? When I called last week to re-confirm, not only did I request two rooms, but I asked that they’d be located on different floors on opposite sides of the hotel. If this is the universe’s idea of a joke, I’m not laughing.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime, and I step out, my suitcase wheels whispering against the carpet as I follow the gold-numbered plaques down the hall. Jesse trails behind me, irritatingly calm, acting like this whole thing is a minor inconvenience instead of a full-blown disaster.
Suite 712. My stomach knots as I stop in front of the door and swipe the keycard. The lock clicks, the door swings open, and…oh, fantastic. It looks like we’re checking into the damn honeymoon suite.
A massive king bed layered in white linens sits in the center of the spacious room, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city skyline. A sunken jacuzzi tub is tucked into the corner and there’s a champagne bucket with a bottle already onice beside the couch. All that’s missing is rose petals scattered across the bedspread.
I stand frozen in the doorway, every cell in my body trying to reboot. How am I supposed to spend two nights alone in here with Jesse Winters?
As if on cue, Jesse lets out a low whistle as he comes to stand behind me. “Wow. Subtle.”
I shoot him a look over my shoulder. “Don’t.”
He lifts both hands, feigning innocence, though that crooked grin gives him away. “What? Is it the sheets? You’re worried about the thread count, aren’t you?”
“I’m starting to think you enjoy watching me suffer.”
He steps past me into the room, leaving his suitcase by the door. “Itcanbe entertaining.” He glances around the suite with a look of amusement in his eyes. “You’ve gotta admit, they went all in.”
“I’m calling the front desk.”
“Be my guest,” he says easily, tugging his jacket off and tossing it over a chair. “But you heard the woman—everything’s booked solid. You’d have better luck finding a unicorn than another room.”
I pull in a slow breath, counting to five in my head. Somehow, I’m going to have to find a way to make this work. “Fine. But just so we’re clear?—”
He looks up from where he’s loosening his watch strap, that hint of amusement still lingering. “Here we go.”
“—you stay on your side of the room. No crossing the line, no touching the thermostat, and absolutely no funny business.”
His brows lift. “Define ‘funny business.’”
“Anything that involves you coming too close to me.”
“Harsh.”
“Necessary.”
Verynecessary. As much as Jesse is a pain in the ass—and heis— underneath that he can be really sweet. I was remindedof that on the plane today, the way he talked me through the turbulence, the way he let me fall asleep on his shoulder. I remember the feel of his hand on mine. I remember how everything else disappeared and it was only Jesse and me, his thumb pressing against the soft, sensitive skin of my wrist.
