Your Room or Mine?

Four

By the time Jack finally arrived at Casa di Lago Friday night, he was tired, annoyed, hungry, and thirsty. Thanks to computer problems his day at work had been stressful. He’d enjoyed a light, early dinner, but then courtesy of Atlanta’s notoriously heavy Friday night traffic, combined with the never ending road construction and a fender bender that blocked three lanes of the interstate, the hour-and-a-half drive to the resort had turned into a three-and-a-half-hour nightmare. All he wanted was a cold drink, some hot food, and some serious sleep.

After parking his car, he dragged his tired ass toward the resort’s curved archway entrance, pulling his black carry-on-sized suitcase behind him, and in spite of his exhaustion, decided things were looking up. The grounds were beautiful, with perfectly manicured lawns and flower-lined paths, all lit by hidden lights and bathed in moonlight. The resort itself had been fashioned after an Italian villa. The pale yellow stucco exterior, dotted with elegantly curved arch-ways and black wrought iron balcony railings, made Jack feel as if he were visiting the shores of Lake Como rather than those of Lake Lanier. He’d visited the resort once, several years ago, and had been impressed with the service, food, amenities, and accommodations. He couldn’t wait to experience them all again. Like right now.

He entered the lobby, and the soaring ceiling, golden cream marble floor, woven rugs, carved columns, tasteful artwork, and the gentle scent of fresh flowers went by in a blur. All his attention was focused on four things: register, drink, eat, sleep. In that order. Right now he was much more interested in smelling a cheeseburger than anything that sat in a vase.

He spied the registration desk ahead and quickened his steps. Another guest was registering and it looked like only one person was behind the counter. Damn. Hopefully the woman registering was almost done, but somehow he always ended up stuck in line behind someone experiencing a major problem of some sort that required much help and much time.

As he drew closer, he idly noted that in spite of the prim cut of the registering woman’s brown suit, she had great legs. Just then she turned slightly, and his footsteps faltered as recognition hit him. He barely stifled the groan that rose in his throat. Of all people, why did it have to be her? Mad Dog Price was the last person he wanted to deal with now. Bad enough he’d be forced to see her in… he glanced at his watch. Eight hours.

He kept walking, frowning as his eyeballs again zeroed in on her legs. They were pretty spectacular. Where the hell had they come from, and how the hell had he missed them? And how unfair that they were wasted on a dragon lady. Just then she rose up on her toes and leaned forward to say something around the vase of flowers to the man behind the counter who’d stepped to the side. Jack blinked. Wow. Even that mud-colored suit couldn’t quite hide what was clearly a very nice butt.

So intent was he on reaching his goal of the registration desk-and staring at her unexpectedly fine ass-that he didn’t realize she’d turned her head. And was staring at him. Staring at her ass.

When he looked up and made that discovery, his jaw tightened with self-directed annoyance. Bad enough he’d looked at her in a way that could only be described as an ogle. Really bad that he’d been caught in the act.

Damn. This day was going from bad to worse.

Making sure he kept his gaze steady on hers, he offered her a nod in greeting, one she returned, then he walked between the velvet ropes that marked the line for registration.

“I can take you here, sir,” said a young man with a bright smile who positioned himself before a computer next to the man helping Mad Dog. Jack moved up to the desk, parked his bag next to Madeline’s, then gave the clerk his name.

“You’re checking in late,” Madeline said.

“I could say the same to you.”

“I worked late.”

He detected the emphasis on the I and gritted his teeth. So he’d left work at five o’clock. He was allowed. His reasons were none of her business. Even though his better judgment told him to shut up, he found himself saying, “Some of us have a life outside the job.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he was surprised to find himself wondering what sort of life she led outside work. He realized that although he’d known her for a month, he didn’t know anything about her. Except that she was a thorn in his side and a pain in his ass. And really, that was all he needed to know.

“Ready for our big adventure tomorrow?” she asked.

Jack handed the clerk his credit card then turned toward Madeline. She was peering at him over the rims of her rectangular black-rimmed glasses. With her severely pulled back hair, she looked like a prim schoolmarm.

“Sure thing,” he answered. “Can’t wait. Really. I mean that. I’m not at all envious of the rest of the department who don’t need to check in until ten a.m. tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait, either.” She smiled and batted her eyes. “Mama needs a new lipstick.”

His gaze flicked down to her mouth and his jaw tightened at the sight of her full lips. Just as he had with her legs, he had to wonder where that plump, perfectly shaped mouth had come from and why he hadn’t noticed it until they’d placed their foolish bet yesterday. Right now her lips looked ripe and shiny-like a juicy peach. Peach… damn, he loved peaches. And damn, he was hungry.

A bellhop pushing a wheeled cart took charge of Jack’s bag and Madeline’s as well, jerking Jack’s attention from Mad Dog’s peachy lips. He was tempted to tell the bellhop he could handle his suitcase himself, but decided not to expend the effort. The bellhop headed toward the elevator, and Jack leaned against the counter, dreaming of a tall glass of something cold, a juicy cheeseburger, and a comfortable bed.

“You look beat up,” came Mad Dog’s voice. “Rough day?”

He swiveled his eyes toward her. “Gee, thanks. I might go all to pieces, what with so many compliments.”

She raised one eyebrow. “Just making an honest observation. Besides, I’m sure you already get plenty of compliments.”

Jack was certain that comment meant something snarky-as opposed to complimentary-but before his tired brain could figure it out, she accepted her key card from the man behind the counter. After thanking him, she said to Jack, “See you in the morning.”

Morning. Right. For their fun-filled orienteering extravaganza. Yippee. After taking his key card, he headed toward the elevator, and was not pleased to see that Mad Dog stood before the shiny brass door. He’d hoped she’d be gone already. As he approached, the green Up arrow glowed and the door slid open. He followed her into the paneled elevator.

“What floor?” she asked as she pushed the round button with a three on it.

“Three.” Great. Not only were they in the same hotel, they were staying on the same floor.

The door closed with a quiet whoosh, ensconcing them in the enclosed space. Soft music played. Jack noted her reflection in the shiny brass door, saw that her eyes slid closed. Clearly she was as tired as he.

“I heard a joke today,” she said, her eyes still closed. “What’s the definition of an accountant?”

“Just what I want-an accountant joke. Like I haven’t been hearing them since the day I declared my major in college. Any chance you won’t bother to tell me?”

A smile pulled up one corner of her mouth. “Nope. An accountant is someone who solves a problem you didn’t know you had in a way you don’t understand.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a side-buster. Do you know the definition of a consultant?” Before she could answer, he said, “It’s a person who you will never hear say, ‘Everything looks okay to me.’ ”

To his surprise, she chuckled. “Guess I asked for that. What’s the difference between an accountant and a vampire?”

“A vampire only sucks blood at night. Believe me, I’ve heard them all. Here’s something else you’ll never hear a consultant say-”

“ ‘You’re right, we’re billing way too much for this.’ ” She opened her eyes and their gazes met in the brass reflection. “I’ve heard them all, too.”

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. He extended his arm, indicating she should precede him, and she raised her brows. “So polite,” she murmured as she exited.

He followed her, noting that she left a subtle hint of something that smelled really good in her wake. Something that smelled like… cookies? Damn. He loved cookies. His stomach rumbled.

“Just because I’m a bloodsucking vampire doesn’t mean I don’t have any manners.”

“At least you admit it.”

“That I have manners?”

“That you’re a bloodsucking vampire.”

His gaze settled on her neck and he was suddenly seized with the unwanted and inappropriate urge to nibble on that soft-looking skin to find out if she tasted as good as she smelled. “Says the consultant who admitted she’d never say ‘You’re right, we’re billing way too much for this.’ ”

He checked the sign on the wall that indicated the room directions and headed to the right, noting she fell into step beside him. Great. Same hotel, same floor, and now rooms apparently near each other. He stopped outside room 314. “Well, good night. See you in the lobby at six.”

She stopped directly across the hall, outside room 315, and looked at him over her shoulder. A tendril had escaped her severely pulled back hair and rested on her cheek, a slash of brown against pale skin that somehow made her look almost human.

“ ’Night.” She entered her room and the door closed with a quiet click.

The instant Jack’s door closed behind him, he let out a sigh of relief. First stop was the minibar, where he helped himself to a bottle of water and a bag of peanut M &M’s. After popping several candied nuts into his mouth and washing them down with a long, cool drink, he picked up the phone and ordered room service. He could almost taste that cheeseburger, fries, cole slaw, and chocolate brownie already. The turkey sandwich he’d eaten for dinner hours ago was but a memory.

The bellhop had already delivered his suitcase-talk about fast service-and he simultaneously toed off his shoes and shrugged his suit jacket from his shoulders. After tossing the jacket on the nearest chair, he slipped off his already loosened tie and flicked open the buttons on his dress shirt, all while looking over the room. Muted earth tones, brightened by attractive framed prints depicting nautical scenes, tasteful cherrywood furnishings. The best part was the king-sized bed that beckoned him like a siren with promises of a comfortable night’s sleep.

Still working on his shirt, he clicked on the financial news channel, noting that the stock market had enjoyed an upswing. At least something good had happened today. Keeping one eye on the TV, and still popping M &M’s, he zipped open his suitcase. Might as well unpack while he waited for his meal.

With his attention on the TV, he reached into the suitcase to pull out his favorite Braves T-shirt, which he’d packed right on top. When he looked down, he halted midchew and blinked. Instead of his T-shirt, he held a bit of black lace that looked like a… thong?

What the hell? He held up the wisp of material that definitely wasn’t his T-shirt and frowned. Definitely a thong. Definitely sexy. Definitely not his.

He looked at the suitcase and reached for the next item. Instead of his sweatpants, he pulled out a lacy black bra that matched the thong. As if in a trance, he replaced the bra and checked out a few more items on the top. Some sort of sexy corset-looking thing. A slinky see-through number in fire-engine red. A bottle of massage oil. And a box of thirty-six condoms. A book entitled Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover. On top of the book was a note. Without even meaning to, his gaze scanned the brief message. Don’t you dare lose your nerve! Be brave! Be daring! Have your one-night stand with a sexy fireman and ENJOY yourself. You’ll feel soooo much better. I’ll want all the details at lunch on Monday. Go get ’em, girl! XOX Emma

Wow. Somebody was expecting a sex-filled weekend. He looked closer at the bag and realized that it was identical to his, right down to the same brand name. Realization struck and he froze. The bellhop had only had two bags on his cart. His and…

Mad Dog’s.

Holy crap. No freakin’ way did this assortment of sexy goodies belong to that frosty dragon. No way.

He stared at the thong dangling from his fingertips. His suddenly active imagination shifted into overdrive, filling his mind with a picture of those curves hinted at beneath her prim, mud-brown skirt filling out the wispy bit of black lace. Which snapped everything male in him to attention.

This is what the icy consultant pest wore underneath those prim, boring suits? Whoa. And people thought Victoria had secrets. His gaze shifted back to the open suitcase, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and ran a single fingertip over the cup of the black lace bra.

His conscience coughed to life. Okay, dude, hands off. Touching her underwear is just… wrong. What are you, some kind of perv?

He snatched his hand away as if her lingerie had suddenly spurt flames. Of course he wasn’t a perv. At least he hadn’t been until he’d opened her suitcase. He was just… curious. And surprised. He sure as hell wouldn’t have equated someone so prim with a one-night stand seeker. He’d read about the fireman charity golf tournament taking place at the resort this weekend. Clearly she had, too. Still, he would have bet his entire 401K that Mad Dog wore sensible, white cotton granny panties beneath her schoolmarm clothes. Not that he’d ever pondered her underwear or thought of her in that way. Hell no.

Oh, c’mon, admit it. You’ve thought about her in that way more than once since you made your stupid bet. You were thinking of her in that way not twenty minutes ago when you ogled her legs.

Okay, fine. But he hadn’t known they were her legs when he’d ogled them. Or her ass.

You knew they were her lips when you ogled them, his inner voice whispered slyly.

Damn pesky inner voice. Why couldn’t it lie? Just once in a while? He went to rake his hands through his hair and realized her thong still dangled from his fingers. He stared at the sexy bit of lace and groaned. He did not want to know this about her. Did not want to think about her wearing this under her prim and proper clothes. Think of her wearing it to entice some fireman into a one-nighter. Hell, he didn’t want to think about her at all. Time to replace the panties, zip up the bag, and give her back her incredibly sexy lingerie. Yup, that was absolutely the only thing to do. Certainly better than standing here staring. And fantasizing.

Annoyed with himself, he replaced the thong and slapped down the suitcase’s lid. Clearly the only reason he would, for even one nanosecond, fantasize about Mad Dog Price was because his brain was fried. He pulled the zipper closed then stepped back. There. Done.

Of course, this meant that she had his suitcase. He ran a quick mental inventory of what he’d packed and groaned. If she opened his suitcase, she’d surely have questions-questions he wasn’t inclined to answer. But… since she hadn’t knocked on his door yet, maybe that meant she hadn’t discovered the Case of the Double Suitcase. Maybe, just maybe, he could get to her in time.

He grabbed her suitcase and headed toward his door.