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“I’ll be back in New York in a few weeks,” he told her. “Can we meet up, maybe?”
Her cheeks flushed, mostly because she was pleased he wanted to see her again. “Here?” she asked.
“Yeah. Let me give you my number. If you want to see me again, call me.”
“Of course I want to see you again.” She rolled her eyes, and he smiled.
“Call me tonight,” he said, reading out his number as she tapped it into her phone.
“You could call me,” she pointed out, sending her own number to his phone.
“Then I will. As soon as I’m back in London.” He frowned. “Although, that will be your night time.”
“I don’t care.” She was already looking forward to it. She wanted to talk to him. Wanted to laugh with him. Wanted to hear about his work and his flat in London and anything else he had to say.
“Come here,” he said, reaching for her. His fingers curled into her hair as he gave her one last kiss. It tasted of hello and goodbye, and this could be something good.
It tasted perfect. And for now, it would have to be enough.
“Now go before I decide to tie you up to my bed,” he said.
“Don’t make offers you don’t intend to keep.”
He lifted a brow. “Next time,” he said, and they both grinned like kids again.
“I’m really going now,” she told him, grabbing her underwear and pulling them on.
“Okay.” He rolled out of bed.
“You don’t have to get up. I can see myself out.”
“No, you won’t,” he said gruffly, and she couldn’t help but take one last look at his body. Every part of him was masculine perfection, making her realize her previous love interests had been little more than boys.
Irish was all man. And she liked that too much.
Ignoring her scrutiny, he pulled on his shorts as she pulled on the dress she’d discarded last night. She didn’t bother to make herself look presentable. Her room was on the floor below and it would take her no more than five minutes to get there.
And after that, operationlook respectablewould begin.
When she was dressed, he walked over to her, kissing her softly one more time. “Thank you,” he said. “For the perfect night.”
Oh, she really liked him. Way, way too much. “Thank you,” she said, meaning it.
“Take care, beautiful,” he said, pulling open his door. Reluctantly, she stepped out of it, giving him one last glance.
“Call me tonight,” he told her.
“You’ll be at the airport,” she pointed out, but smiled anyway.
“I know.” He winked. And she started walking.
* * *
A little over an hour later, Grace stepped into the hotel elevator, pressing the button for the lobby as she looked at her reflection in the mirrored interior.
She’d showered and washed her hair, then dried it carefully, before pulling on a pair of jeans and a shirt that she’d tucked into the waistband. Her lips were still swollen and her eyes were too bright, but hopefully her parents would think it was the after-effect of a night out with her friends, and not the result of a night tangled with a much older man.
The elevator doors pinged. She stepped out, looking around the high-ceilinged lobby to spot her parents. They were behind an oversized fern, and she had to step to the side to see them. Lifting her hand, she went to call out for them, but then she sawhim.
