Page 49 of Don't Tell

The Cresswell is quiet when I arrive. I take the private elevator and step out onto my floor. I'm reaching for my key card when I hear the cart at the far end of the hallway.

She's finishing the suite. She's got her back to me, pulling the door closed behind her, and she hasn't seen me yet. Her hair is up. She has a cloth tucked into the pocket of her uniform.

Her face transforms when she sees me. Her brown eyes light up. Her lips spread into a wide smile.

The hallway has cameras at both ends. Any door could open.

I walk to her anyway. She watches me come. She doesn't retreat, which is new. She holds her ground and looks up at me with those eyes.

I pull her into the alcove and press her against the wall.

She makes a sound against my mouth before I've even finished kissing her. Her hands come up to my chest. I put one hand on her back and slide it down, and she arches slightly and kisses me back. I pull the hem of her shirt loose and get my hand underneath it, and her skin is warm and she —

Her pager goes off.

She pulls back. "I have to go."

"You don't have to listen to Roger." My mouth is at her jaw, her neck. She smells like the lavender spray from the rooms, and underneath it, something that is just her. "He can wait."

The pager buzzes again.

"Cade." Her voice is unsteady. She clears it. "I really have to go."

I pull back enough to see her face. Her cheeks are flushed. Her shirt is untucked on one side. She's going to have to fix that before she goes anywhere.

She steps away. Her hand catches mine before she fully lets go. We're standing in a hotel hallway in full view of two cameras, and she's holding my hand, and she seems to realize this at the same moment I do.

She squeezes once.

"Tonight," she says.

She lets go. She tucks her shirt back in as she walks, quick and efficient, as if nothing happened. She reaches the service elevator, presses the button and doesn't look back.

13.Suzanne

Ten minutes ago, he had me against a wall.

His hand was under my shirt, and his mouth was just below my earlobe. I was laughing into his collar, and now I'm pushing a cart down the fifth-floor service corridor at a pace that's going to give me away before any of the cameras above me do.

I need to slow down.

I check my reflection in the brass plate over the housekeeping panel. Roger sent me to the Sonoma suite and now I look a mess.

I fix my hair up, uniform on.

"Suze."

Carmen is at the end of the corridor with a stack of folded sheets up to her chin. She's come around the corner faster than I expected. She raises an eyebrow. "Where's the fire?"

"No fire. I just need to round up the laundry for the penthouse suite. You know how particular Mr. Nightingale is."

She tilts her head and studies me one beat too long. "I don't actually. I keep asking what the deal is with him, but you won’t tell me anything."

My heartbeat spikes. “Because there’s no deal. I told you — there’s nothing between us. He was just concerned.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t see him showing anyone else in this hotel any concern.” She squeezes my arm above the elbow and lets it go. "Don’t forget what I said."

I nod.