“Hmm?”
“We best make sure the door is locked, and close the drapes.”
“Aye, I’ll do it. Don’t you move,” he ordered, his voice a bit ragged.
She watched him get up and hurry to the door, checking the lock. Then he strode across the room and closed the drapes. Before he got back to the bed, he was already shucking his suit jacket and pulling his shirt over his head. She smiled and sat up, unbuttoning her top. They both froze when a knock sounded at the door.
Jumping up, Maeve rushed to the bathroom and closed the door so she couldn’t be seen.
“What is it?” Sean demanded, yanking open the door.
“The management apologizes for the misunderstanding regarding the reservations, sir. They’ve sent this up as a small token and hope you and Mrs. O’Malley enjoy your evening.”
A uniformed waiter wheeled in a cart carrying a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two glasses and a bowl of strawberries. A single red rose stood in a small crystal vase on the linen covered cart.
“If there is anything else we can do to make your stay with us more pleasant, please let us know.”
Sean reached into his pocket, pulled out some bills and pressed them into the young man’s hand. “Thank you.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
Sean appeared to look around the room, spotted something and picked it up, handing it to the waiter.
“Aye, you can hang this on our door,” he said before ushering him from the room and locking the door behind him.
“What was it you gave him?” Maeve asked as she came from the bathroom in her light pink slip.
“A Do Not Disturb sign,” Sean replied with a wink.
Chapter Twelve
Almost immediately Sean knew the moment had been lost. Maeve seemed jittery, and as much as it galled him, he knew he would have to begin again, slowly.
“Would you care for some champagne, darlin’?” he asked. “Maybe you’d like to get undressed first? I’m waitin’ to see what confection you’ve packed.”
“Confection?” she asked warily.
“Aye, I thought it was customary for the bride to wear some bit of a frilly, feminine thing on her weddin’ night.”
“’Tis true, and I do have somethin’ in my bag, but I told you I was hungry.”
“You did at that,” he replied snapping his fingers. “I’ll call room service and we’ll order somethin’ up.”
“I’d rather go down to the dinin’ room,” Maeve answered, rushing to gather her clothes. “I’ll only be a moment,” she called over her shoulder as she went back into the bathroom.
Sighing, Sean put his shirt back on and brushed off his jacket. As soon as Maeve came out, he took his turn freshening up. She was just putting up her hair when he returned. Together they left the room and rode the lift down. There was a short wait before they were shown to a table.
Over a traditional roast beef dinner, they made small talk, but every time he tried to quietly turn the conversation to more intimate matters, she changed the subject. And she dawdled. Each piece of meat seemed to be chewed several dozen times. She played a bit with her mashed potatoes, and when the waiter finally came to clear the table, she lingered over her coffee and suggested they have dessert.
Sean flatly refused.
“We have fresh strawberries upstairs and ice cold champagne,” he insisted, rising and handing the bill and payment to the waiter. “That will do fine if ’tis a sweet you’re cravin’. I’m cravin’ somethin’ entirely different,” he stated as he took her arm and helped her from her chair.
He was not in a mood to be put off any longer, and it seemed almost cruel of her to stall when she’d nearly been ready to give herself to him a couple of hours ago. It also seemed pointless to prolong her case of nerves when he knew with certainty she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
To be the one to taste her for the first time, to slide into her sweet curvy body, well it would be curvy again if he had anything to say about it, he thought as they rode up to their floor. Her ridiculous diet annoyed him. Why fool with perfection? Her breasts were lush, her behind so tempting he had the urge to smack it each time he walked by her. Her soft cheeks were slightly hollowed now, and the twenty pounds she’d lost, were twenty too many for such a small woman. Tonight was not the time to bring it up, but they would discuss it. He’d not have his wife starving herself even if the fashion magazines were plastered with pictures of women who looked like waifs.
Unlocking the door to their room, he ushered her in, hanging the sign on the door before he closed it, checking to make sure it was securely locked. No more interruptions. Taking off his jacket and hanging it in the closet, he loosened his tie.
