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They wouldn’t fall asleep or miss anything important, right?
CHAPTER7
The stadium thundered with feet stamping and voices shouting, another local crowd cheering a home run. Trent grinned and tossed one arm up in the air, just to smack into a fluffy pillow. His eyes flew open, and he jolted up to sitting.
Nope, he wasn’t on center field, he was in bed with Camille. Apparently, she was exhausted because her long lashes hadn’t even fluttered.
Another round of pounding sounded from the hotel room’s door, where someone was shouting “Ms. Taylor, Ms. Taylor.”
He glanced at his watch––yeah, they’d fallen asleep and now were late for the gala.
Time to wake her up. “Someone’s here,” He leaned down and whispered against her lips.
“Mmm…” Camille threw her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss.
On cue, Camille’s phone buzzed from the nightstand. She shook her head and looked around. “What time is it and who is banging on the door?”
“Probably someone from the gala. I’ll take care of it.” He rose, grabbed one of the plush hotel robes, and stalked across the room.
He cracked open the door to find two harried looking hotel employees. “Ms. Taylor can’t come to the door at the moment, can I help you?”
The young guy with cropped dark hair nodded. “Yes, the gala organizers have been trying to reach Ms. Taylor for the last forty-five minutes. She hasn’t responded to the texts or the phone calls. Her team won the scavenger hunt, and the awards ceremony is at 8 p.m.”
Trent silently cursed and glanced over his shoulder. Camille was already up and smoothing her just-fucked hair away from her face. He angled back toward the duo. “We’ll be down in ten minutes. Thanks for coming up.”
He closed the door and strode toward where Camille was shimmying her very fine body into her dress. “Let me help.”
“Please,” she shifted to allow him access. Her skin was silky against his fingers as he tugged her zipper up. An unfamiliar bolt of possessiveness filled him. This woman unlocked something in his heart––something that had lain dormant for years.Was it too fast?
He’d keep it light. He pressed a kiss to her creamy shoulder. “Did you hear the guy at the door? We won the event, even with my singing.”
She twirled to face him, her emerald eyes glinting with humor. “I saw the text message, well, all five of them that I napped through. They want an encore from you.”
He grinned, “Yeah, right. They’d probably pay me not to ever sing again.”
“Maybe we won because of your enthusiasm. Lisa’s going to be so happy. I’m so happy. But we need to head downstairs.” She pointed to where his clothes rested in a heap on the floor.
“As long as you promise you’ll leave your thong here and we’ll come upstairs as soon as we can.” Like within ten seconds after they accepted the award.
Camille grabbed his face and pressed her soft lips to his. “It’s a deal. I have plans for you later. Promise. But let me freshen up. Give me five and I’ll be ready to go.”
Five minutes––time to get dressed. He yanked his trousers on and buttoned his shirt, scanning the room for the bowtie he’d tossed over his shoulder. He stalked across the large suite and snatched up the red fabric off the floor. A frisson of doubt sparked through him.
Was Camille using him to get over her ex? Was he the rebound guy?
Because everyone knew how that turned out.
Last night he’d gone on a date to appease his sisters, but nobody could have predicted he’d meet his dream woman. By accident, no less. After Polly, he’d never expected to fall in love again, not really.
Especially not contemplating a relationship twenty-four hours after meeting someone.
Camille Taylor was special.
He’d never connected so deeply or so fast with another woman, not even Polly. But Camille had just dumped her long-term boyfriend yesterday. Even if she said she was over him, they had spent years together.
Grief from a loss could take a long time and she’d experienced something traumatic yesterday. Even if she’d fallen out of love. What happened tomorrow when the adrenaline rush wore off? Maybe she’d realize she needed time to heal.
He scrubbed his hands through his hair. Tonight wasn’t the time to stress about getting burned. If he’d learned one lesson over the last few years, it was to only focus on the present moment. What he could control. Nobody could have prepared him for the premature ending of his baseball career or the loss of his beloved wife. Nor could he have stopped that drunk driver’s choice to get behind the wheel.
