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Waving aside my misgivings and annoyance that he forced his way into coming along on this trip with me, I give him a hint of a smile.
“My apologies . . . Miles. Please excuse me. The bellboy was about to show me to my room before I bumped into you.”
“What a shame,” he utters quietly before I can even put a step forward.
“What is?” I inquire, even though I’m not really interested in what he has to say. I wish he weren’t here with me. His mere presence is a major distraction, and I need to set my priorities straight and clear my head before the meeting.
“That we couldn’t save some money for the museum by booking only one room.” He grins. “The first time we shared a bed was memorable.”
Incensed, I struggle to keep my cool and snap sarcastically, “I don’t thinkyour wifewould approve of you sharing with me again.”
A frown contorts his face, and I smile with satisfaction.
“Giselle, what—”
Hastily, I walk away, not bothering to listen to whatever lying excuses he’s about to give. Even if he tells me he’s in an open relationship or about to get a divorce, that won’t make up for not telling me he’s married in the first place. Quickly, I enter the elevator, hoping he won’t catch up with me. I might just lose my cool and yell at him, causing a scene.
Lord knows I tried to be civil, but that quip about sharing a bed was too much for me to bear. How dare he bring back such intimate memories? Having him here isn’t a good idea, but I don’t have a choice. I was even tempted to give up the project when the Board endorsed him coming here with me. But I will not allow him to ruin this opportunity for me.
Remain professional, Giselle. He can’t get to you unless you let him.
Once the bellboy guides me inside, I offer him a tip before sealing the world outside with a soft click of the door. The room unveils itself in hues of gold and cerulean, a visual symphony that soothes and invigorates. Drawn to the window by the bed, adorned with snow-white linens, I gently part the curtains. Before me stands the Washington Monument, its obelisk silhouette commanding the skyline. The city beckons, tempting me with its treasures. But a voice within reminds me of the upcoming meeting, urging me to stay in the moment.
From my bag, I pull out a white silk blouse and print skirt before going to take a quick shower. Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I bind my long hair into a ponytail.
I’m just sliding my feet into black heels when I hear a knock on the door. A small frown creases my forehead. I didn’t order room service. My heart misses a beat when I think it might be Miles. Speedily, I go to the door and groan inwardly when I look through the peephole and see that it is indeed him standing there. How did he find out which room I am in? More than ever, I realize that coming here with him was a big mistake.
I jerk when he knocks again. I don’t want him to come into the room, so I pick up my purse and pull the door open.
My breath catches when I notice he now has a different suit on, showing off his broad shoulders and lean physique and matching his gray eyes. I stand rooted to the spot, with little quivers running through me when he slowly ogles me from the tip of my toes to the roots of my hair. Male appreciation reflects in his smoldering eyes. My skin flushes and my nipples pebble, but I manage to keep a bland expression. Him knowing how much his sensual scrutiny affects me will only encourage him.
“You look good,” he says with a smirk.
“Thank you,” I reply, stiff-lipped.
“Ready?”
“For what?” I question, fighting to get my insides to stop quivering.
He looks puzzled. “For the meeting. I already booked an Uber. He should be here in a few minutes.”
“Why?” I frown.
He gives me an odd look. “I was hoping we could ride together.”
He forestalls me when I open my mouth to protest. “It doesn’t make sense for us to arrive in different cars when we’re heading in the same direction and have the same meeting.”
Unable to argue with his reasoning, I reluctantly mutter, “It’s just a few blocks anyway.” I can’t help asking, “How did you find out which room I am in? Don’t tell me they told you at reception?”
His face softens into a grin. “I was standing right behind you when he handed you your key. I saw the room number. Besides, we’re neighbors. My room is next door.”
I grit my teeth inwardly. He must have planned this. Resolving to keep things professional, I nod and wait for him to step aside before I close the door and place the key in my bag. Stiffly, I walk beside him to the elevator. The sooner this meeting is over and we return to New York to continue living our separate lives, the better.
If only I could get my treacherous body to believe it.
CHAPTER11
MILES
