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“Then you know how it sucks. But I know one guaranteed way to feel better. You offered to have sex with me, and I’m willing to pay. If we can agree on a new price and a place, can we proceed?”
“I guess,” she said hesitantly.
“So, will four hundred co
ver the extra commute time?”
Her nostrils flared as she stared at me. Seconds ticked by before she said, “Eight hundred.”
My eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money, Harley.”
The chick had balls to ask for that amount, but I already knew I was willing to pay it.
“Done.” I wasn’t wasting fucking time on haggling. “So, we’re agreed on price. Now on to location. Is it the Chamberlain in particular you object to?”
“No. Not really.” Her gaze straight ahead, she narrowed her eyes as she watched her friend climb into the car in front of us.
“Hmm. Well, the rooms are nice, and I’m familiar with the staff. If I call them, they’ll do everything they can to make sure my stay . . . our stay . . . is comfortable.” I retrieved my phone from the center console. “Is there any special request you might have? Something I can have them do that might change your mind about going there?”
I hit her with my most sincere expression, and she stared back at me as if I were an enigma to her. Well, that went for both of us. I couldn’t for the life of me figure her out either . . . a girl who looked like a hooker but acted like an ingenue and smelled like a spring meadow.
“Could you ask them for a room near the entrance?” she asked softly.
“I could do that. Sure.”
“Maybe one on the first floor?” She bit down on her lip as if uncertain of my reaction. “With a patio, if they have that?”
“All right.”
The silver ring on my middle finger caught and glinted in the light. A gothic cross, an homage to my upbringing. I spun the cross around to my palm so I didn’t have to see it. I’d remove it before we got started.
It wasn’t that the things I planned to do with her were anything I hadn’t done before. Just that the way I felt right now—afraid to get busted, afraid she might throw on the brakes—reminded me of my awkward teens and fooling around in the back seat of a car with a girl I really liked.
My hair fell into my eyes as I completed my task and returned my phone to the console. The call connected and rang over the car’s speakers before someone answered it.
“Chamberlain Hotel, West Hollywood,” the woman on the other end said in a chirpy voice. “Manager Mindy Johnson speaking. Can I help you?”
“Yes, Mindy. This is Rush McMahon.” I angled my head, pausing in my conversation while watching my companion. Did she recognize my name? She was studying me as closely as I was studying her. But there was no recognition in her gaze.
“Mr. McMahon. Yes, we haven’t seen you since your last launch party. How are you?”
“I’m fine. A little tired from traveling. I’ve got someone with me, and we could use a room.”
“Absolutely. The usual amenities?”
“Yes. Only I have a few additional requests. Is there a first-floor suite available? One near the front entrance? With a patio?”
“Let me check.” A clacking on a keyboard sounded in the background. “Yes. Only it’s just a regular suite.”
“Does it have a separate shower? A garden tub? A seating area? A fully stocked bar?” Basically, easy alcohol access and plenty of places to fuck her.
“Yes, all of that.”
“Then that’ll be fine. We should arrive shortly.”
“We’ll be ready for you.”
“Your name is Rush?” the girl asked after I ended the call.
