She was twenty-one. Twenty-one!
When his best friend Phil, at forty, dated a twenty-six-year-old, Nate had teased him about having a middle-age crisis. And now, here he was, practically hiding from a hot woman due to their age gap.
She’d mentioned the dreadful Office Daddy nickname.
Was he crazy or did he see a spark of desire in her eyes, when he said they could talk about it later? He’d meant it as a joke, but then—
A knock cut him from his thoughts.
He opened the door, to find the reason of his musings standing in front of him, wearing the very same monogrammed hotel robe he wore. Of course he much preferred the way it fit her, he realized as he made a quick appraisal of her hourglass shape under the soft fabric. Moisture evaporated from his throat.
For a moment, they exchanged a glance, and his heart beat wildly in his chest.
She lifted her hand, and he saw the small bottles of wine she carried, probably from her room minifridge. “Anything wrong?” he asked.
“Besides the fact I’m bored and could use some company?”
Doing the right thing was never so hard. Get hold of yourself, man. “Have you looked at the TV options? They have a lot of channels,” he said coolly. “Excellent selection of pay-per-view movies too.”
“C’mon, Office Daddy, let me in. We can have a drink, can’t we?” she asked.
No. They absolutely could not, and should not, have a drink. Especially while wearing robes and naked underneath. Was she naked? He certainly was. The image of her robe sliding down her curvy body formed in his mind, and suddenly oxygen was in short supply.
He should send her away.
He should. He should.
Yet, he opened the door and granted her access, then closed it behind him, already regretting his decision, but unable to change it. One drink. They’d share one drink.
“Have a seat,” he said, pointing at the round table next to the large bay windows.
“Thanks,” she said, and plopped down on his bed. “How come my room is bigger than yours?”
“Well, since we didn’t have a reservation, they only had a standard room and a suite. I figured you should get the better room since I inconvenienced you by making you come here and stay the night.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
And dumb. Now, he could use the extra space to keep farther from her. He bet the layout of her suite included a sitting area besides the bedroom—which would have come in handy.
She opened the small bottle. “This is red wine,” she said, and had a sip. “Want some?”
“I can get my own, thanks,” he said, then opened his fridge and grabbed a small bottle of vodka. He twisted the cap and took a generous sip, the liquid downing smooth.
He’d need all the courage he could get to act like she didn’t send his body into havoc. He pulled a chair and sat on it, realizing looking straight into the sun may be less dangerous than letting his gaze lazily travel from her big hazel eyes, down to her inviting smile, then to the valley between her breasts exposed by the small opening in the robe.
“How is your wine?” he asked.
“Rich and embodied with a nice finish.”
“That’s accurate for someone who couldn’t legally drink until that long ago.”
She laughed. “That’s what it says on the bottle.”
A chuckle floated up his throat. How had he not realized how infectious her laughter was? Made him feel like joining in, and being surrounded by her good energy. How many times had he missed on the opportunity?
Her phone buzzed, and she fished it out of her pocket, glanced at it and set it aside.
He squared his shoulders, wondering if that had been Gustavo. Of course. Her boyfriend.
