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“Mr. Dufort is there something I can get for you?” one chef said, coming out of one of the large coolers.
His identity now out in the open, the staff continued what they were doing.
“Ms. Kane and I wish to make ourselves a gluten-free meal. There’s no need to trouble yourself. We will be in and out,” Daniel said with authority. He knew what chefs were like. Like the captain of a ship, they were dominant over their domain.
But this was his hotel, and he wanted to make Harper a meal. His expression gave no space for negotiation or denial. He watched as the chef wisely nodded and left them to it.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Harper asked as he led her into one of the coolers, making sure to prop the door open, and waved out his hand.
“Eat the entire place if you want to,” he said, taking her chin and planting a kiss on her lips briefly. He had to taste her again soon. “Because if I need to remind you, this is my hotel.”
They were both frozen by the physical connection and leaned into each other.
“Go, eat,” he whispered against her lips
Harper nodded. She stepped away and began digging through containers. Daniel grabbed a bunch of grapes, cheeses, and some rice crackers.
“Wow, this is incredible,” she said. “I wish I had a chef. Some women want a cleaner, but if I could, I’d have someone cook for me every day.”
They laid out their food on a large platter as they talked.
“Really? You don’t cook?”
Harper shrugged. “I do, but now that it’s just me, the incentive is low and because I spend a lot of time writing, cooking is just a pain.”
He had a housekeeper who maintained his home, did his shopping, and made meals. If he didn’t arrive home in time to eat it when it was freshly made, it was in the oven or fridge, with instructions on how to heat it up.
Delicious gourmet meals. Every damn day.
Harper would be in heaven.
And of course, each meal was designed especially for him by his nutritionist and trainer, so he stayed in optimal shape.
He paid them to do all the thinking and doing so he could reap the benefits as he spent his days running a multi-billion-dollar business.
Daniel wasn’t going to tell Harper any of that. It would only create a divide between them Daniel didn’t want to exist. They pulled up a couple of stools hidden under a bench and began nibbling on their put together meal. He opened a bottle of water for Harper and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
As she placed a grape in her mouth and her tongue wrapped around it, his cock hardened. Then the weirdest thing happened. While he wanted nothing more than to bend her over and pull her panties off, letting his tongue dive into her wetness, Daniel suddenly felt an overwhelming need to know her more.
He wanted to know what else she liked and disliked, and how he could give her all those things and watch her face light up again?
Daniel stared at the plate of food in front of him. He didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from. Was it because she’d been so disinterested in him, and he was having to put in some effort to have her?
He knew he wasn’t Harper's type. It was one thing to be a rich asshole and think all women wanted you—and often they did for just one night, just as he did—but not many women could handle his life and all it entailed. Money and luxury, sure. But he worked long hours, he was never going to marry or have children.
She wasn’t what he wanted, and it didn’t sit well in his chest.
Why?
Sexually, they both wanted each other. That was all this was.
Suddenly the PA system crackled, and all guests were advised they were moving out into the hallways for their safety. Their belongings, especially valuables, should be moved inside the bathrooms and not taken out into the hallways with them.
Then a reminder to take their swipe keys.
Yeah, that was always a logistical nightmare after these things.
