One Touch More (9 page)

“I was hoping that since they're your account, you'd talk to them before they check out this morning. I don't want to lose their business, but I also don't want a bunch of rowdy guys partying and trashing our rooms, either.”

“I'll take care of it.” Relief flooded her. Speaking to Damien after what happened between them would be marginally less humiliating than giving a speech in her underwear, but it was better than having Sandy investigate for herself and contact Joey personally. If Joey thought that the sweet setup he had there was in jeopardy, there was no telling what he would do.

“Thanks. I'll have my cell on while I'm on vacation and I'll be checking e-mails. If something major comes up, don't worry about giving me a call.”

Tabitha took the cue to beat a hasty retreat and she shot up from her chair, earning a questioning look from Sandy. “I'll talk to HiTop's noisemakers before I leave. Have a good trip.”

Sandy gave her a pleasant smile and waved as Tabitha left the office.

“What happened?” Dave was as bouncy and eager as a puppy when she closed the door behind her. “Did she fire you? Find out about your
room service
? Did someone complain?”

“Slow your roll, Dave.” His mile-a-minute questions weren't doing anything for her nerves. “First of all, if you call what happened last night
room service
again, I'm going to slap you. Second, Sandy was just touching base with me before she leaves for her vacation tomorrow. No scandals for you to sink your teeth into.”

“Then why do you look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar?”

His arch tone made her wonder if he'd had his ear up to the door. “There was a noise complaint last night from the room next to Damien's. Sandy asked me to go talk to him about keeping it down while he stays here.”

“Can I go?”

“No, you can't go.” Dave needed to find a hobby. Or a boyfriend. “But you can watch the front desk since, you know, it's sort of your job.”

“You're a buzzkill.”

She smiled at his feigned pout. “I do what I can.”

Chapter Nine

Damien finished packing up the last of his shit into the duffel bag. Checking out of one hotel only to return to another, the glamorous life of an undercover marshal. He tucked Tabitha's cell and the canister of pepper spray into his back pocket and slung his duffel over one shoulder while he grabbed the now-empty suitcase in his other hand. He took one last look around before opening the door—

“Hey.”

Tabitha stood on the other side, her fist held up as though she'd been about to knock. His body sparked with excitement at her nearness. Hell, he was worse than some teenage girl, all fluttering nerves and bullshit unease. “Hey.”
Way to articulate, dipshit
.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Awkward had nothing on this moment. At once, Damien was ashamed of the way things went down last night. How he'd all but climbed over her like a rutting bull, driven by some primal urge. She walked through the doorway, past him, and Damien caught the faint scent of her perfume. The sweet floral bouquet went straight to his head and made him want to seduce her into agreeing to whatever wicked sexual act he could think of. His free hand twitched at his side. She was close enough to touch, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out.

“What's up?” His voice was strained; her nearness affected him right down to his vocal cords. Her lips parted slightly, ready to be kissed, and Damien could think of nothing better than to oblige her. He followed her into the room and set the suitcase down on the bed—trying not to think of the things he'd done to her there last night—and tossed his duffel bag down next to it.

“My manager got a noise complaint about your room.”

Goddamn it
. He wondered just what had spurred the complaint. The asshole banging on the door after ten o'clock at night, Damien slamming said asshole against the door, or his own fool head banging against the shower wall after Tabitha had left. Probably all of the above. “Sorry about that. It won't happen again.” If he could, he'd hit his cranium against the wall right now. If only to jog some marginally less Cro-Magnon conversation from his lips.

“Thanks. She asked me to handle it personally because I'm responsible for Joey's account with the hotel and Sandy doesn't want to lose his business. But if it happens again there's a chance she'll try to contact him directly, and I can't afford for that to happen.”

There was a twinge of fear behind her words that spurred every protective instinct in Damien's body. “Why are you afraid of him?” He hadn't meant to blurt the question out, point blank. But the thought of her living in fear made him want to break something. Namely, Joey Cavello's face.

“I-I'm not.” The lie was obvious, her body language conveying her deceit in little tells that Damien was trained to identify.

“Then why are you helping him? Why not let him get his ass kicked out of here?”

Tabitha's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why do you care? You're selling that crap for him. What difference does it make to you who helps him or where he moves it from? You're getting paid, right? Isn't that all that matters?”

Damien's façade slipped. The barest peeling back of layers that made him feel too damned exposed for his peace of mind. He tucked that very
Parker
part of him away and hiked a disinterested shoulder. “Yup. Who doesn't like money? I'm sure you don't mind the kickbacks you're getting, either.”

Damien felt the anger rippling off of her like heat rising off a summer sidewalk when she said, “I told you, I don't take a dime of Joey's money. I don't want
anything
from him.”

He quirked a sarcastic brow. “Not a single thing?”

“You're an asshole.”

Jealousy had prompted Damien's harsh words. The knowledge that she'd been with that slimy son of a bitch was like a coal burning hot in the pit of his gut. Tabitha's anger lent her beauty a fierceness that took Damien's breath away and he abandoned logical thought. He was tired of living this double fucking life. So tired of upholding the moral right by condoning so many wrongs. And sick of putting everyone else's needs before his own wants.

Fuck that shit. He wanted Tabitha. And goddamn it, he was going after what he wanted.

Her eyes widened as he stalked toward her, but there wasn't an ounce of fear in her gaze. Rather a defiance that only served to heat his blood. An unspoken challenge, as if she dared him to take another step. To touch her. Put his mouth and hands on her. Damien had never been one to walk away from a challenge.

He took her face in his hands and held her still. Tabitha's breath raced, her chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm. Her lips parted, soft and inviting despite the fire in her eyes. “I'm not afraid of you either, Damien.” The words floated to his ears on a whisper.

He kissed her with every ounce of frustration pent up in his body. Though he wanted to be gentle with her, caress her mouth with his, treat her as though she were some fragile thing, he couldn't. Couldn't tame the desire that burned within him, the need that overtook him. His attraction for her was too visceral, too desperate for anything other than fierce abandon.

Tabitha shoved at him and he took a stumbling step back. “Damn you,” she seethed before rushing at him, her hand clasping the back of his neck as she pulled his mouth down to hers.

 

 

She'd come here to make sure that Damien knew the ground rules. That he'd play the game and lie low. And maybe return her damned cell phone. Kissing him, throwing herself at him, had
not
been part of Tabitha's plan. Damien's effect on her was instantaneous. A rush that went straight to her head and erased all logical thought from her brain. Common sense, decision-making skills of any kind became nonexistent the moment his lips met hers. But, oh God, was he ever worth the consequences.

Damien's hand came around the back of her neck, his fist gripping the short strands of hair that brushed her nape. He tilted her head the way he wanted it, allowing him access to her throat. The control he exercised over her was something she craved. In fact, it wasn't enough. So much weighed on every single decision she'd made over the past couple of years, and for once, she wanted the burden of choice to be taken from her, giving her no option but to obey.

“Damien.” His name hovered on her lips, an unfinished thought. The blunt edge of his teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her throat, the slight sting a delicious precursor to the wet warmth of his mouth. Tabitha's eyes drifted shut. His touch was bliss.

“Housekeeping!”

The warning preceded the click of a key card in the lock and Tabitha shoved at Damien once again, sending him back a few paces. His eyes glinted with a wild light, a feral animal with the night's prey in its sights.

“Don't. Leave.” The command was firm and a rush of liquid heat chased through Tabitha's veins, settling low in her abdomen.

When the housekeeper walked through the door, Tabitha was certain that the shocked expression on Lisa's face mirrored her own. “Oh my gosh, Tabitha, I'm so sorry.” Lisa's face flushed a deep crimson and Tabitha fought the urge to roll her eyes. What in the hell did Lisa have to be embarrassed about? She wasn't the one almost caught with her pants down.

“No worries. The heating unit was acting up yesterday and I was just checking to make sure it's still working all right.”

“I can come back.” Lisa's eyes slid to Damien and warmed as a smile spread across her face.

“No need.” Damien's eyes never left Tabitha. “I'm checking out.”

Damien grabbed his suitcase and hauled his duffel over his shoulder. He cast a warning glance Tabitha's way and headed for the door. She waited for it to shut behind him and took a deep breath. His presence was so overwhelming that she found it hard to breathe when he was near.

After a few pleasantries—and a couple more rushed excuses—were exchanged with Lisa, Tabitha figured she'd given Damien more than enough time to check out and pay his bill. She strolled down the hallway, counting out her steps with measured breaths in an effort to calm her still-racing heart.

“Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

His sardonic tone broke her from her reverie and she looked up to find Damien waiting for her near the elevators, one massive shoulder bracing him against the wall. A confident smirk graced his features and Tabitha's heart stuttered in her chest. If he was gorgeous when he wore that imposing, angry expression, then he was absolutely breathtaking when his face showed a spark of humor.

“I wasn't trying to get rid of you.” She fixed a stern expression on her face. “I was talking to one of my housekeepers.”

“Uh-huh. I know when I'm getting the brush-off.”

Heat crept up Tabitha's cheeks. She tilted her head to the side and regarded him. “For some reason, I find it hard to believe that anyone has ever given you the brush-off.”

He grinned, showcasing the deep grooves of his dimples, and her stomach did a backflip. The casual hike of his shoulder did nothing to diminish her attraction to him. Good Lord, she lusted after him like a cat in heat. It was all she could do not to rub herself up and down his body. “I thought you had Sundays off,” he said, disregarding her earlier observation.

“I do, but I had to come in to take care of a few things.”

“Like a rowdy guest or two?”

She smiled. “Something like that.”

“What are you doing now?”

She quirked a brow. “Talking to you.”

Damien rolled his eyes, but those dimples stayed put in his cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

Tabitha stepped up next to him, so close that her senses were awash with his spicy, masculine scent. Her arm brushed his as she hit the button to call the elevator. She didn't miss the way his gaze drifted to where their bodies touched. A simple shift of his eyes ignited her desire. Could she be any more pathetic?

“Don't you have to meet Joey? Square up for the weekend?”

The look he gave her told Tabitha that Damien Evans didn't answer to a fucking soul. The world waited to do his bidding. And once again she couldn't help but wonder,
what
was he doing working for a low-level criminal like Joey?

A bell chimed as the elevator doors slid open. Tabitha stepped inside and Damien followed with his luggage in tow. He reached across her, as though pushing the button for the first floor was an action devised to give him an excuse to brush his arm against hers. “Leave your car here, and let's get some lunch.” Again, Damien didn't ask Tabitha to do anything. He
told
her. “We're downtown, there's got to be plenty of places to eat within walking distance.”

The man was a mystery. In all of the months she'd dated Joey, he'd never once taken her out on anything that even resembled a date. If they weren't hanging out at a bar, they were at her apartment. Dinners and lunches consisted of takeout—that she usually paid for—and never anything fancier than a Flying Pie pizza. Joey wouldn't be caught dead in any of the fancier downtown eateries.

“All right.” The words left her mouth before she could think her decision through. “I need to check in with my manager before she leaves on vacation, and you still need to check out. I'll meet you out in the parking lot?”

The elevator doors slid open and they stepped out into the hallway. He flashed a quick smile that caused her insides to melt into a puddle of liquid heat. “I'll meet you outside.”

Without another word, he walked out in front of her, down the hallway toward the lobby. Tabitha wasn't going to complain as she took in the view of his ass, hugged by the denim slung low on his hips and revealing the waistband of his underwear.
Damn
.

 

 

Tabitha scanned the parking lot. She found Damien leaning against a cherry Shelby Cobra with California plates. Stolen? Or did that gorgeous hunk of machinery belong to him?

“The '65 is nice, but if you ask me, the '67 Shelby convertible is the best. The roadster body gives the 1950 Ferrari a run for its money and the V-8 is killer,” she said.

His lips spread into a wry grin that caused a wobble in Tabitha's step as her knees felt like they might have disconnected from her shins. She'd never met a man who made her legs weak until now. Had she become a walking cliché, or what?

“The '67 roadster is okay, but the body of the '65
is
the American muscle car. Plus, the '65's got a little more torque, and the growl of the engine can't be beat.” He pushed himself away from the car and Tabitha couldn't help but notice how his muscles flexed and bunched with the simple action. Damien's body was a living, breathing work of art. “You're the local. So you choose where we're eating.”

Again, his words didn't invite discussion. He'd given her a gentle command and it was clear he expected no resistance or argument on her part. It was tough for her to admit, but Tabitha didn't exactly frequent downtown Boise. She worked downtown and that was about it. Besides her epic failure of a double date with Lila the night before, she didn't eat anywhere that wasn't dirt cheap. The downtown restaurants catered to people on a champagne budget, and Tabitha was definitely living on a beer income.

Well . . . he asked for it. “I've heard that Fork is pretty good. I haven't eaten there, but my friend Lila said they have the best burgers she's ever eaten.”

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

Tabitha took a quick look around as nervous energy skittered up her spine. It's not like she expected Joey to be hanging out in the hotel's parking lot, but she had a feeling that if he saw her with Damien, it would cause all sorts of problems that she wasn't ready to deal with.