Page 24 of Straight Shooter

They pulled up to the hotel and Peyton’s body sang at the prospect of dry clothes and a warm bed. Rhett stepped out of the vehicle and held the door for her.

Bright fluorescent lights shone from beneath the carport and a doorman stood at the open door, his free hand behind his back. Rhett leaned into the vehicle. “I’m going to take her to her room. Wait here.”

“No rush,” Mandy called in a singsong voice. “It was nice meeting you, Peyton.”

Eric harrumphed and flicked his hand over his shoulder.

Peyton waved to Eric and Mandy and thanked them for their help. She squinted at him as they walked into the building. “You don’t have to escort me.” The climb in her voice belied her words. The doorman gave her a curious glance and she pulled the sweater tight around her frame.

“I know. I just want to see you off, that’s all. How are you going to get into your room?”

Her shoulders drooped. “Oh my god. I don’t have my key, or my ID.” She stalked to the front desk and propped her elbows on the edge.

Rhett cast a glance around the lobby. He caught sight of a bellboy and followed his line of vision. He was staring directly at the supple skin on the backs of Peyton’s thighs. Desire—followed by fierce protectiveness—blazed through him. He fit his arm around her waist and pulled her against his hip, blocking the bellboy’s—and hopefully everyone else’s—view.

She jumped at his touch, scrunched her features into a cute scowl, and returned her attention to the desk clerk.

“Hello, ma’am, how may I help you?”

“I was involved in a boating incident this evening. I lost my purse, which had my room key and ID.”

“Tsk. I’m sorry to hear that,” said the thin man with a patchy goatee. “What’s your name?”

“Peyton Risk,” she said.

He typed something and asked her to confirm her check-in day, as well as her date of birth. Then the clerk tapped the mouse. His mouth shifted toward one cheek and then the other.

Rhett’s patience waned. “I’m special agent Rhett Callahan with the FBI.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, flashing it over the desk. “I can assure you she is who she claims.”

The man’s shoulders inched toward his ears and his eyes widened.

“Is that sufficient?” Rhett said.

“Yes, of course.” The man nodded quickly. “Let me get you your new keys.” He ran two cards through a small machine and tucked them into an envelope, which he pushed across the desk. “Please let me know if I can be of any service.”

“Thank you.” Peyton grabbed the envelope, and they made their way down the hall to the elevators. She pressed the button and the doors coasted open. “Thanks for that. I was afraid he was going to ask for my shoe size and measure my foot.”

Rhett chuckled as she pressed the button for the eighteenth floor.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t see your flip-flops,” she said, clearly fighting off a grin.

“You’re just jealous because you have Mandy’s sensible sandals.”

“Mandy is definitely lacking your flare.”

He lifted his foot and turned it around. “If it weren’t for the itchy flower, they’d actually be comfortable.”

He was rewarded for his silly remark with a smile that reached her eyes. A flutter erupted beneath his breastbone. Tonight he’d witnessed every reaction from her: terror, fury, embarrassment, and even playfulness. One night with her had been like speed-dating the same person—except there was no romantic intention involved. His equilibrium was shaken.

The elevator dinged and they entered the hall. She led the way to her room and his eyes drifted up her back. Her hair was wild around her head, as if she’d driven through a wind tunnel, and her hips swayed beneath the sweater that dusted the tops of her thighs. He shoved his hands in his still-damp pockets.

“This is it.” She swiped the key through the card reader and bumped open the door with her hip. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Thanks for walking me to my room. You really didn’t have to.”

He shrugged. “I’ll sleep better knowing you made it okay.” He lowered his gaze. “How’s your leg?” His fingers itched to lift the corner of the sweater to take a look, but that would be a bad move.

She dropped her hand so it hovered over the area. “It hurts, but I peeked at it earlier and the bandage is holding.”

“Be sure to keep it clean. I can have another look if you like.”