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“Yes, just a typical day in the madhouse.” She chuckled.
“Anything I need to know?”
“No, not really.” She clicked her fingers. “Oh, there was one thing. This guy has phoned a few times, asking for someone named Memphis.”
Chapter Seventeen
My knees buckled beneath me, but I managed to clutch the counter before my legs crumbled completely. “Who?” It wasn’t hard to sound suitably confused over which guy had phoned, after all, there were eight to choose from.
“That’s what I said. I told him we didn’t have anyone here by that name. But he was insistent.”
I’d meant who was the caller. “Did he say who he was?”
“Nah.” She fished her car keys from her suitcase-sized handbag. “Just some crazy nutter.”
“Have a good one. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” I said with all the bravado I could muster. As soon as she disappeared, I collapsed onto the chair.
“Shit!”
I needed to stop this craziness before I got caught.
But I don’t want to stop.
I’d made a plan. Well, Lolly had planted the seed, and although I hadn’t admitted or committed to it officially, I found the idea of a new bedroom adventure every week for a whole year freaking exciting.
Twelve months in a person’s lifetime wasn’t very long. Right?
So far, this year has been more exciting than my whole life put together. And not just the part where I totally got my rocks off with eight complete strangers, either. It was also the anticipation of who my next passion partner would be. Each man had been totally different.
Where I grew up, the men were all the same. It was as if they’d been cloned or something. They were all slightly overweight, and born, bred or somehow attached to the land, whether it be as a farmer, or working for businesses that supplied to the farmers. People lived on the land and died on the land.
Not me. Not anymore. There was a whole world I wanted to explore.
Except . . . I didn’t want to do it alone.
I wasn’t the type of girl who set off with a backpack full of my worldly belongings and woke up in a new city each day. I wanted to plan my holidays. Preferably with a man. A man I adored. Together, we’d explore all the world had to offer and each night we’d fall into bed in each other’s arms and marvel at what we’d seen or done.
This year, the world was offering me a different man to explore each week, and I was loving every minute of it.
But this phone call was a problem.
Being discovered was a major problem. There were eight men who knew about Memphis. Marjorie didn’t say the caller had an accent, so that ruled out my Jamaican reggae drummer. It also ruled out my tattooed Italian guy, the English groomsman, and my American artist.
So that left Billy the cowboy, George Whitehead, David Lawson, and Henry my silver-haired fox.
A little flutter rolled through my stomach at the thought of a man trying to contact me. It was like waiting for that call after a first date.
Although these weren’t first dates. Nothing like them, really.
Just me satisfying my horny inclinations and finding a man ready and willing to help me.
“Excuse me.”
I snapped my head up from the scrambled doodling I’d made all over the desk notepad. “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Welcome to the Hot Horizon Hotel. How may I help you?”
“I have a booking. William Richards is my name.”
