My head is throbbingway too much to go to the front office as I planned. My only thought right now is pain medicine and sleep. Yesterday had been physically and emotionally draining. And lying to a woman who inspired my career path doesn’t feel good at all either.
I enter Othello’s suite, the smell of fresh jasmine hitting my nose as I step inside. Housekeeping must have been here, but then again, the place has been in pristine condition since we arrived last night. Even the sofa where Othello had slept is tidy. No extra pillows or blankets. His large suitcase and bag are nestled in a corner near the TV. I feel bad that he’s sacrificing his own comfort for me. Hopefully, I’ll be out of his hair before the night is through.
On the coffee table is a gift basket, and next to it something that looks like a journal. I approach the ivory wicker basket, wondering if it came from the hotel. There is a card resting on a small arrangement of orchids. And when I see the engraved stainless steel cup, I know the basket is from Gavin and Carina.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear the bathroom door open. Othello steps out into the living room, and my eyes go wide.
He gasps in surprise. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry,” he says apologetically.
“I didn’t know you were here,” we both say in unison.
I try to look away, but my eyes are glued to his damp chest, water trickling down the carved lines of his muscles. The bulge from between his legs doesn’t go unnoticed either. Othello’s eyes follow my gaze, and he clenches the towel tight around his waist.
“My clothes are in here,” he says, pointing toward the suitcase I’d seen earlier. He brushes past me.
He smells amazing. That same incense and mandarin cologne he’d been wearing on the plane. I turn and face the wall on the opposite side of the room, not knowing what else to do. I can hear Othello rummaging through his things before he brushes past me again. I turn away,again, facing where he’d just come from.
“Gonna change in the bathroom,” he says.
I groan quietly under my breath, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. This has to be so annoying and uncomfortable for him. He’s supposed to be enjoying his suite. Maybe even free-balling around buck naked, and I’m in here disturbing the peace.
“Um, I didn’t get a chance to see if my room is available, but I promise, I’ll check on that tonight.” I step into the bedroom and drop my bag on the dresser.
“I checked for you this morning. There’s nothing left,” he hollers from behind the closed bathroom door. The statement jars me, my overthinking already kicking into gear and spiraling with questions. Is he rushing me to get out? Ready for me to leave. Am I becoming an inconvenience? A temporary situation that’s overstayed its welcome?
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.
He comes out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of lightweight tropical print shorts and a matching short-sleeve shirt with buttons and a Cuban collar. There are slides on his feet, and I admire how well-groomed they look. Everything about Othello screams,Grown Man.
“What did you say?” he asks, stepping into the room with me. His fingers are still working on buttoning his shirt, and I sneak a peek at his broad chest and Hershey brown nipples.
“Nothing, I was just thanking you for checking for me.” I lean against the dresser and cross my arms.
“It was nothing. So, are you centered and balanced?”
I muster up a smile and try to focus on his eyes instead of his sculpted arms and how good he looks in this outfit.
Good lord, he must not ever miss a day at the gym.
“Something like that. It was an interesting session. I met Carina’s mother.”
“Word?” He says, eyes bulging in surprise.
“Yeah. It turned out to be just the two of us at Sunrise Yoga. And I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me that she’d be here at the resort too. Carina is her daughter, after all. I have always been inspired by Collette. She’s kind of my idol.”
Othello’s face lights up, and he leans against the dresser near where I’m sitting. “I didn’t realize.”
“Yeah, I adore Collette. It was a really nice chat,” I say, before sighing. “But now I feel like a hypocrite.”
“A hypocrite? How?”
“I basically gave you the third degree last night for lying, and then I turn around and do the exact same thing.”
“Ah,” he says and gives me a sincere smile. “One thing about Collette is that she’s an understanding woman. If it really bothers you, I can talk to her. Clear things up before tonight so you don’t have to feel guilty about it.”
“And ruin things before they even start?” I shake my head violently, which causes a dull ache to bloom behind my eyes. “That might make things more awkward.”
I cringe at the thought of me and Othello standing before the great Collette Randolph to tell her that we lied to her.I’m sorry you got to know me under false pretenses, but I’m actually very single, and Othello is just a guy I have a crush on who told a ridiculous lie because he’s probably still in love with your daughter.
