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“No,” she said without preamble.
“No, what?”
“This is what I get for not asking where we were going,” she muttered to herself. Then to me: “You brought me to your hotel?”
I glanced over at the building, trying to see what was so terrible about it. The Breakers was a pretty posh place, not some seedy hole in the wall. Why did it feel like she just wanted something to argue about?
“So?” I shrugged. “I don’t have a place of my own, or I would’ve brought you there.”
“So,” she waved angrily toward the building, “you think I’m just going to go up to your room with you? Alone.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big deal? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?” she said louder.
“Yeah. It’s not like I expect you to do anything,” I said, and clearly, it was the wrong thing.
A choking sound burst from the back of her throat, and she shoved at my arm. “Well, that’s good because I wasn’t planning on it. But if you think I’m going to head up to your room alone, you’re sorely mistaken. I barely even know you!”
My mouth opened, and I searched for a response, but I fell short. I’d never encountered a situation in which a woman didn’t want to be alone with me. Quite the opposite. Mosttriedto get an invitation back to my place. It hadn’t even occurred to me that she might not want to spend some time alone.
At a loss for words, instead of saying something comforting, like Big Joe could chaperone, or she could call her best friend and let her know where she is and who she’s with, or maybe we could see if there was a quiet spot in the hotel’s lobby, I said, “I bet Gabby would die to get an invite back to my room.”
Scarlett blanched, and her mouth pressed into a hard line, dark eyes flashing like lightening when she said, “Too bad I’m not Gabby.” Then she dug inside the front pocket of her bookbag and pulled out her phone.
“What are you doing?” I asked, already sorry for the comment.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
“Calling P to see if she can pick me up.”
“Don’t do that.” I reached out and covered her phone with my hand, and she snatched it away.
“Hey!” she snapped, but I persisted, obscuring the keypad with my palm. “How big are your freaking hands?” she growled, moving the phone in the air. “They’re like bear paws or something.”
I snorted before I gripped the phone entirely and yanked it out of her hands.
“Give it back,” she huffed, cheeks red.
“No.”
Her eyes widened in response, and before I could stop her, she rolled down her window and screamed like a banshee.
Cool wind whipped between us as nerves spiked in my veins. “What are you doing?” I lunged toward her, covering her pie-hole with my hand, laughing as I did. “Would you shut up? You’re going to attract attention.”
With my luck, hotel security would come barreling out at any moment, and they’d accuse me of assaulting her or holding her hostage.
“That’s the point,” she mumbled under my palm, and the feel of her lips made my heart beat faster.
I took in a cleansing breath and gathered my bearings. “If I remove my hand, do you promise not to scream?”
She nodded silently.
Slowly, to ensure she kept her word, I pulled my hand away, staying close by just in case she started howling again.
“I brought you here,” I explained, “because we need to talk about the terms of our deal, and we can hardly do that in a public place. Not with the risk of anyone hearing. Heck, I really don’t even want Big Joe to hear. Right now, the only one who knows about our arrangement is my agent, and I’d like to keep it that way. The more people that know the truth, the greater chance of someone spilling to the wrong person, and then the press will find out. Not only would this backfire, but I’d look pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”
I could all but see the headlines now:Thorne Roberts Hires Girlfriend.
