Blindsided: A Sports Romance (2 page)

I bite the inside of my cheek. For some reason, I feel like grinning. He’s all I can think about, but I can’t afford to stand around daydreaming about some rich guy in the penthouse. I need this job. Life isn’t a fairytale and I’m no princess. And I know for a fact that this guy wouldn’t be so friendly if he knew the truth about my life.

Don’t get me wrong—I have nothing against him. I’m just realistic enough to know that all he sees is a pair of tits and a wide smile. It’d be one frenzied fuck across that cedar reception desk and I’d never see him again. That’s not what I want or need.

So why am I shivering? Why does the thought of Jake Thorne doing just that make my body fizzle with electricity?

Luca signals across the lobby. He looks pissed. A moment later, the phone on my desk buzzes. The word ‘PENTHOUSE’ flashes up on the display in big orange letters.

“How can I help you, Mr. Thorne?”

Stop thinking about him like that. Stop it, Rose.

“Ah… I wondered if you could tell me about your restaurant.”

There’s something about the gravelly rasp of his voice that makes me want to keep talking to him even though I need to get these conference bookings done before I can go home.

“Sure. Planters is open for breakfast from six until nine, lunch from midday to two and dinner from five ‘til late. They serve a range of fresh organic foods. Uh. Vegetarian options. And… Gluten… Gluten free.”

I’ve been reciting this spiel for the past several years since the restaurant was renovated. It’s usually word perfect, but this Mr. Thorne makes me trip over my words.

Across the marble floor, Luca stares daggers at me. I know he’s wondering why his Mr. Rich Businessman asked for me and not him. He’s concerned about what this will mean for his tip. I grin and wave, fluttering my fingers delicately. Luca mutters something and looks away.

“You still there?” Mr. Thorne drawls.

“Yes, I’m here, Mr. Thorne.”

He groans. “As hot as it is to hear you call me that, Rose. Can you please just call me Jake?”

“Sure,” I say, trying to fight the heat that surges through me. He thinks it’s hot when I call him Mr. Thorne?

Holy shit, I shouldn’t be reacting in this way, but I can’t help it. I know I’m getting into dangerous territory, but what’s the harm in chatting to the guy on the phone? I’m just doing my job, after all.

An image crops up in my mind. Me lying on the ridiculously large bed in the penthouse master suite. They only showed us the suite so we’d be able to answer questions about it if customers ever asked. I can still remember everything that Marcus, the hotel’s general manager, told us. So I know, for example, that Jake has an expanse of plush, memory foam topped softness underneath his thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. I’ve never felt thousand thread count sheets, but I imagine they’d feel pretty good twisted up underneath my naked body.

“Earth to Rose,” he murmurs, snapping me out of my daydream. The smile in his voice is unmissable—it’s as if he knows exactly where my mind went in those few seconds.

“Sorry,” I whisper, getting a hold of myself (or trying to). “Double shift. Would you like me to book you a table for dinner?”

“Um… Maybe. What can you tell me about the hotel bar?”

By now I’m for real twisting the cord around my fingers, just like I remember doing back in ninth grade the first time Cody called me.

“Sure. I’d highly recommend it. The Still is an intimate space with dark wood paneling and several private nooks. They’ve got a wide range of liquors and specialize in rare Scotches. They’ve also got a selection of craft beers from Hop Boys Brewery here in Greenboro. They shouldn’t be busy right now, but I can book you a table if you like. They’ve got a range of light meals.”

“Actually, Rose,” he says, and I can tell he’s lying on his back from the sound of his voice. That revelation does little to calm my thumping heart. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve got a phobia about eating or drinking alone.”

I laugh before I can stop myself. It’s so obvious he’s making it up.

“It’s a genuine condition,” he says, sounding offended. I can hear the smile in his voice, though.

I play along in the name of customer service.
Obviously
. Not because the sound of his voice is having a very real effect on me. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne. That must be difficult.”

“It is. Rose, you’d really be helping me out if you joined me for a drink.”

I laugh. “Nice try. But I can’t just leave the desk in the middle of my shift.”

“But how else am I going to prove my point?”

“What point?” But I don’t really need to ask. His words from earlier are already burned into my mind. I don’t think I’ll ever forget them. It’s okay, though: we’re chatting on the
phone
. It’s all good. We’re not flirting. I’m providing excellent customer service, just like all those handouts from corporate HR tell me I should.

“You know what I mean,” he says in a low voice that’s just a shade away from an animalistic growl.

That’s it. That’s me. I’m like Alice falling down the rabbit hole. It’s too late to stop myself. This isn’t just an innocent chat on the phone.

“You see, Rose?” Jake says, after I’ve been stunned into silence for several moments. “We’re losing you. You need sustenance.”

I laugh. “I can’t just walk away,” I squeal, earning me another filthy look from Luca, even though he’s just extracted a hefty tip from an elderly couple visiting from out of town. I want to run after them and tell them that he’s only recommended that restaurant because he gets a kickback for every guest he sends there. “And I don’t think going to a bar with you counts as sustenance.”

“Dinner then,” he says, quick as a flash.

“I can’t leave my desk,” I say, less convinced this time.

Because what’s the harm? I can go for a drink with him and remain professional. I can’t remember the last time I went on a date. And this isn’t a date. It’s just a chat.

“I’ll come to you, then.”

Oh shit. I picture Marcus coming down from his office on the club floor and catching one of his front desk staff sweeping out the main door with a guest. I know he wouldn’t be impressed by that.

“No.”

“Oh come on. I’m bored here.”

I shake my head. “We have cable and movies on demand. And a selection of games,” I say, almost on autopilot.

He sounds shocked. “I don’t want to sit here and watch TV, Rose. No, I’m coming down. I’ll keep you company.”

I groaned and rub my temples, but there’s no denying the grin on my face. “No, don’t do that. I’ve got a break coming up in a half hour. I’ll meet you outside. There’s a little bar down the street.”

“Perfect,” he says and hangs up.

I’m left staring at the phone, wondering what in the hell just happened.

I bounce off the bed and walk to the bathroom, grinning. I don’t even know why I called her. I just wanted to hear her voice. But it worked out well.

Now I have a half hour to kill before I see her. Believe it or not, I’m nervous. My body’s been thrumming with energy since I hung up the phone.

The Rocket Room is my first thought. It’s dark and intimate—the perfect first date environment. But the bartender is a fan so that rules it out. It’s rare to meet a girl who doesn’t know who I am. I don’t want him to give the game away by coming over and talking shop.

Predo? Fantasia? One by one, I mentally cross off my favorite places. I can’t take her to any of my usual haunts, but fuck it I don’t care. I’m suddenly fed up of my usual haunts.

I walk back to the living room and flip open the hotel book. This isn’t the kind of place where they have a plastic binder with clear folders of crumpled restaurant menus. In a way, I wish it was. I miss places like that. It’s not like I could afford this hotel if I was paying for it myself, not with the arrangement I’ve got with the team to pay back my debts. I haul the thick book onto my lap and flick through it. It’s all artsy photographs taken by a celebrity photographer. I slam it shut again. Would Rose like any of those places?

What does she do in her spare time? Where does she live? With roommates or alone? I shake my head. I don’t know what it is about this woman, but she makes me think too much. I don’t usually give it much thought. Pick a girl. Take her to a VIP club. Bring her back to a hotel room—preferably not my own. I don’t know why this is different, but it is.

***

I watch her flip through the thick, dog-eared menu. She chose this place two blocks from the hotel because she only has a half hour break and they do the best pastrami sandwiches around.

“You ready?” she asks, closing her menu and drumming her fingers on the table.

“Not yet.” I shake my head and open my menu. I’ve been too busy studying her to read the damn thing.

She watches me. “Too low-rent for you?”

If only she knew the truth. I want to laugh but I just shake my head instead.

“You sure? I thought a big fancy businessman like you would be used to places like Albacore and The Grill Room.”

I look up at her in surprise. “I’m not a big fancy businessman,” I say before I can stop myself.

I can tell from her expression that she doesn’t believe me. It’s like I’m watching it happen in slow motion—I know what she’s going to ask me before the words come out of her mouth, but my mind can’t come up with an answer in time. In fact, it feels like somebody has removed my brain and replaced it with Jell-O—that’s the effect she has on me.

“You’ve just been saving your whole life to stay in that room?” she says, eyebrow raised. “It’s three thousand a night.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m staying there for… uh… work.”

Damn it, if my mind worked a quarter as fast as my body does, then it might have been okay. But it doesn’t. Especially not when I’m sitting this close to a woman with killer curves and the brains to match.

And then there it is. The one question I should have prepared for. The one thing I didn’t think about even though I’ve decided to be somebody else.

“So what do you do?”

I force myself to look at her even though I’m mentally casting around like a fisherman at sunset who needs that goddamn catch. I’ve got nothing. The seconds tick past and her eyes narrow a fraction. I’m making her suspicious—at least my silence is. What the hell do I say? It’s too soon. I don’t want to discuss this yet. I want to see where this might go for us.

“I’m a hotel inspector,” I blurt.

I almost clap myself on the back. As lies go, it’s a pretty goddamn stupid one. But compared to the other answers I could have given her? It’s a master-stroke. Who’s gonna question some guy who says he’s a hotel inspector? Now, if I’d said I was a spy, on the other hand, that could have blown back up in my face.

“Oh,” she says, nodding slowly. “You’re spending a long time at the hotel. And in the penthouse too… I thought you guys try to act normal so the staff have no idea who you are. Plus, you just told me who you were.”

Looks like I spoke too soon. Shit, I struggle to even remember all of those questions, let alone come up with answers.

“Uh, yeah,” I shrug, stalling for time. “Well, that really depends on hotel management. They’re the ones who hire us. They make the rules.”

“So what are you doing? Pretending to go to business meetings and hanging around the city until you come back?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m working on a couple of assignments right now. I’ve been visiting the other properties.”

Shit, I didn’t think about this. Now I’m digging myself in further and further.

“Oh.” She thinks about it. “So what have you found out so far?”

I lock my eyes on hers and pretend I’m thinking. “Well, it’s very early in the process. But one thing has jumped out at me.”

“What’s that?”

I lean in as if I’m about to share a juicy secret. She comes closer, meeting me in the middle of the table where our menus lie pretty much forgotten.

“The receptionist,” I whisper. “Is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She hides her reaction well, but I see it. I see the quirk of her lips and the slight widening of her eyes. I notice the way her chest rises and falls under her uniform. I sit back, thinking this is going to be easier than I thought.

And then she raises an eyebrow. And the balance of power changes. I thought I was in control, but maybe I’m not.

That wasn’t in the gameplan.