Your Room or Mine?

Five

Fresh from a much needed hot shower that went a long way toward loosening the tense kinks in her neck, Maddie ran a quick brush through her damp hair then wrapped herself in the thick, luxuriously soft terry cloth robe provided by the hotel. Although she’d arrived at the resort later than she’d planned, it was still early enough to change into her Catch a Fireman Dress and scope out the bar. While she dressed, she’d peruse Emma’s pep talk note and the copy of Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover her best friend had given her for encouragement. And hope her nerve didn’t desert her.

When she exited the bathroom her gaze fell on the minibar and she realized she was hungry. Really hungry. The meager salad she’d eaten for dinner at her desk was long gone. Drat. Anything she ate now would permanently adhere itself to her hips. Oh, well. That’s what treadmills were for.

She selected the bag of peanut M &M’s and popped one in her mouth while unzipping her suitcase. If she found her one-night stand tonight she wouldn’t get much sleep before her orienteering outing. Ugh. At six a.m. Double ugh. With Jack Walker. Triple ugh.

His words echoed in her ears. Some of us have a life outside the job. Arrogant ass. No wonder he’d checked in so late-probably had an entire roster of women he’d had to appease. Well, she had a life outside her job, too. One that was going to get much more exciting this weekend courtesy of some as of yet unknown fireman.

In anticipation of seeing her newly purchased lingerie, she flipped open the suitcase lid. And stared. At what had to be the rattiest looking T-shirt she’d ever seen. She could tell by the tomahawk it was a Braves shirt, but the lettering was so faded, it read 3 aves. What the heck? She moved aside the T-shirt. Okay, who had taken Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover and exchanged it for How to Find Your Soul Mate? Gone was her slinky lingerie and condoms. In their place was a huge pair of sneakers and a slim hardback entitled Dealing with Your Four-Year-Old.

Clearly this was the wrong suitca-

She closed her eyes and clapped a hand against her head.

Oh, God.

The bellhop must have mixed up her bag with Jack’s. She slapped the lid closed and looked at the brand label. Yup. Same exact bag. Which meant that he had her bag. Her bag filled with condoms. And lingerie. And sexy reading material.

And Emma’s note revealing her one-night stand plans.

Heat crept up her neck, instantly annoying her. So what if he saw all that? It was none of his damn business. She reached for the tab to pull the zipper closed, but hesitated as she recalled the titles of the two books she’d seen. Surely she must be mistaken. Compelled by a curiosity she didn’t quite understand, she opened the lid again.

Clearly the man was a Braves fan, but that was hardly surprising. No, it was his reading material that had her doing a double take. She would have expected dog-eared copies of men’s magazines featuring scantily clad women. Jack Walker, aka the Lunchtime Boffing Machine, certainly didn’t strike her as the sort of man to read How to Find Your Soul Mate. Even more surprising was the guide on raising a four-year-old. Jack had a child? Based on office gossip she knew he wasn’t married. She hadn’t considered he’d be a father.

“It’s none of my business, and who cares anyway?” she muttered, closing the lid and taking firm hold of the zipper tab. Although even as the words passed her lips, she couldn’t squelch her curiosity. Those books definitely didn’t fit her image of Jack Walker. Not that it mattered. She was just… surprised. And the sooner she rid herself of his suitcase and reclaimed her own, the better off she’d be.

She looked down at herself and grimaced. She had no desire to knock on Jack’s door wearing nothing other than the fluffy robe, but neither did she want to change back into her suit. Besides, the fact that he hadn’t already knocked on her door meant he probably hadn’t opened her suitcase yet. Which would certainly save her some embarrassment. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, but still. The thought of Jack Walker seeing her sexy lingerie filled her with an unsettling warmth she didn’t care to examine too closely. Besides, the robe was hardly sexy-it was as see-through as cement and covered her from chin to shin.

After slipping her key card into her pocket, she headed toward the door, dragging the evil twin to her suitcase behind her. She crossed the hall and firmly knocked on the door to room 314. The door opened so quickly, she wondered if he’d been standing right there.

“The bellhop mixed up our…” Her words trailed off as her gaze zeroed in on the slice of bare male chest visible courtesy of his untucked, unbuttoned dress shirt. She blinked. Wow. Nice view. One that made her fingers itch to reach out and pull the sides of his shirt wider apart for a better look. Whatever else might be on his busy social calendar, Jack Walker’s pecs and abs proved he carved out enough time to keep in shape. Really good shape.

A dusting of dark chest hair narrowed to an ebony ribbon that bisected his muscle-ridged abdomen then disappeared beneath the waistband of his charcoal gray pants-a deliciously masculine, yet silky looking trail she had the sudden urge to follow. With her tongue.

Yikes! Where had that thought come from? Obviously from the murky depths of her sexual drought, which was causing hallucinations. She tried to raise her gaze back to his, really she did, but her eyeballs seemed to have developed a mind of their own, one that wanted to continue meandering downward. Over his charcoal gray dress pants that were… dear God, unbuttoned. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone totally dry. Her gaze continued downward, over his long legs, down to his black dress socks that covered his large feet. You know what they say about men with large feet, Maddie.

Heat whooshed through her and she managed, through sheer force of will, to yank her errant eyeballs upward. But that didn’t help. Between the five o’clock shadow shading his square jaw, the way his hair was rumpled as if by a woman’s impatient fingers, and his casually unfastened clothing, he looked more deliciously decadent than a triple fudge brownie. Just going by the law of averages, at some point in her life she’d most likely seen a sexier man, but darned if she could remember who that man might have been. If the CFO gig didn’t work out for him, he could step in and do People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue.

Then annoyance kicked in. What the heck was wrong with her? There were tons of sexy men around. Right here in this very hotel. This very weekend.

This one standing right in front of us will do very nicely, her suddenly vocal and wide awake hormones chimed in.

Right. This one standing in front of her who was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. Irritation rippled through her-thank God, because it managed to tamp down the lust that had grabbed her by the throat. So she didn’t look all put together. So her hair was still damp and no doubt looked as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. So while he looked sexy and delicious, she looked like she’d been dragged behind a bus. So what? Didn’t mean he had to look at her like she’d sprouted devil horns and a third eye.

His gaze, which looked oddly dazed-as if he’d just been smacked upside his head-wandered over her with a thoroughness that heated her from the inside out and made her want to squirm. He looked her over, all the way down to her bare toes, then back up. When their gazes finally met again, he said in a voice that sounded both annoyed and confused, “You’re not dressed.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. In spite of her own annoyance, a whisper of amusement worked its way through. “I’m hardly naked.”

Something that looked exactly like fire but surely couldn’t have been flared in his eyes. His eyes, which were a really, really nice dark blue. Like a cloudless sky at twilight.

“Besides,” she added, “it’s not as if I had a whole bunch of wardrobe choices, seeing as how you have my suitcase.” She wheeled his forward. “And I have yours.”

He looked down and she followed his gaze, and realized for the first time that he held her suitcase-something she surely would have noticed sooner if she hadn’t been sidetracked by the brain-cell-numbing, libido-wakening sight of his bare chest.

“I was just on my way to your room to return it,” he said.

She barely suppressed a wince. Great. That meant he’d opened it. And now probably thought she was sex-crazed and desperate.

You are sex-crazed and desperate, her brutally honest libido informed her.

Fine. At least desperate enough to contemplate a one-night stand with a fireman to be named later. But she certainly hadn’t wanted Jack Walker to know that.

Don’t sweat it, her libido continued slyly. Men view sex-starved as a good quality in a woman.

Before she could kick her tongue into gear to reply, her attention was diverted by the sound of dishes clinking together. She turned and saw a young man dressed in the resort’s dark green uniform approaching, wheeling a room service cart. His gaze flicked over Maddie in her robe, Jack in his unbuttoned shirt, and a knowing look gleamed in his eyes.

Great. Yet another male in the hotel who believed she was having sex. Quite annoying, especially since she wasn’t. Yet.

“Would you like me to set this up on the desk, Mr. Walker?” the young man asked. “Or perhaps on the balcony? It’s a nice, clear night.”

Both Maddie and Jack stepped aside so he could wheel the cart into Jack’s room. Something that smelled delicious and fresh off the grill wafted behind him and Maddie’s knees almost buckled from the incredible aroma. She glanced at the cart and her brows shot up at the sight of the four silver-covered dishes on the table. Either Jack was extremely hungry or he was expecting company. She knew which one she’d guess. Seemed he hadn’t cancelled his Friday night plans at all-he’d just relocated them. Why was she not surprised? Definitely time for her to scram before his date arrived.

Jack followed the room service guy into the room, and Maddie stepped inside, dragging Jack’s suitcase behind her, telling herself it was only to get out of the hallway-not an attempt to catch another sniff of those mouthwatering smells emanating from the cart. Jack reached into his back pocket and extracted his wallet, a move that shifted his shirt open.

Oh. My. Maddie outwardly stilled at the glimpse of all that lovely muscled flesh, but inside… inside her heart rate sped up and her blood whooshed through her veins like bullets shooting from a gun barrel.

Jack tipped the young man, who thanked him then murmured good night to her as he exited the room. The door clicked closed behind him, leaving her alone with Jack. And their matching suitcases. And his fabulous-smelling room service. That had her mouth watering. It wasn’t him and his beautiful eyes or his gorgeous body. Nope. Not at all. Or the intense, smoldering, and unsettling way he was looking at her. As if he were a wolf and she had a pork chop hanging around her neck.

Jack stood rooted to the spot, staring at Maddie, at a complete loss for words-at least appropriate words. Certainly Who the hell are you and what did you do with Mad Dog? didn’t seem the right thing to say. Neither did Wow, you’re hot.

And hot she was. So hot that when he’d opened his door and found her standing there he hadn’t even recognized her at first. And who could blame him for not equating the prim, severely coiffed, modestly suited, bespectacled Mad Dog with this tousled haired, dark-eyed siren who’d clearly just stepped out of the shower and smelled good enough to nibble on?

He’d opened his door, thinking it was room service, and his first thought had been Wow. Whoever you are, you’re much better than a cheeseburger. Then she’d mentioned the suitcase and recognition had whacked him with the impact of a brick to the head. He’d been reeling ever since. How was it possible that just letting down her hair, removing her glasses, and getting her out of those prim suits could make such a difference? She was like a female Clark Kent-get rid of the nerdy spectacles, hair, and clothes and poof! Superwoman was born.

And what a super woman she was. Who would have guessed she had all that silky-looking curly hair? And that her eyes were so round and large? How had he never noticed that they were the color of smooth chocolate? Wrapped up in that fluffy robe, she looked like a present, just waiting to be opened. And since she’d clearly taken a shower and he had all her clothes… his gaze slipped to the sash tied around her waist. That meant she probably wasn’t wearing anything beneath that robe.

Damn. It was hot in here.

Her voice yanked him from his daydream and he looked away from her bathrobe to her face. She’d clearly said something to him but damned if he knew what.

He cleared his throat and said the only thing he could manage around his stupefaction. “Huh?”

“I said ‘Here’s your suitcase, may I please have mine?’ ” She parked his case next to the TV.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Jeez, he even sounded like he’d been clocked upside the head with a brick. He wheeled her suitcase toward her. When she took the handle, their fingers brushed, and if he’d been capable of it, he would have laughed at the sizzle that zoomed up his arm.

“Thanks,” she said. Her gaze flicked toward the room service table. “Big plans tonight, I see. Well, me, too. Enjoy your evening. See you tomorrow.”

Before he could say a word, she opened the door and practically ran across the hall, dragging her lingerie- and condom-filled, one-night-stand-ready suitcase behind her. He applied his eye to the peephole and watched her enter her room.

He turned and headed toward his very belated dinner. Big plans? A cheeseburger and the financial news update? He shrugged and snagged a French fry. Then frowned. She was the one who had big plans. Her and her glossy, curly hair and big eyes and lingerie. She was looking for a one-nighter and he didn’t doubt she’d find someone willing. A sensation that felt suspiciously like jealousy but couldn’t have been pricked him. He didn’t care what her plans were. For all he knew she had a guy in her room right now.

That’s one damn lucky guy, his inner voice informed him.

Good God, clearly he was suffering from hunger-induced insanity. Nothing his cheeseburger wouldn’t cure. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he uncovered his burger and took a huge bite. It was really good, but he found himself eating mechanically, staring at the TV without seeing what was flashing on the screen. All because he couldn’t stop wondering what Ms. I’m Too Sexy for My Bathrobe was doing across the hall.

Annoyed at himself, he clicked off the TV and finished his meal in silence. He’d just polished off the last of his brownie when he heard what sounded like a door opening across the hall. He strode to his own door and applied his eye to the peephole. The sex siren he’d previously referred to as Mad Dog stood in the hallway, slipping her key card into a tiny fire-engine red purse. That perfectly matched the five alarm dress clinging to a figure that needed to come with a warning sign: Dangerous Curves Ahead.

Superwoman indeed.

And one who had “big plans” tonight.

After tucking away the card, she headed in the direction of the elevator.

Where was she going? Most likely to the bar. Where there were most likely lots of firemen. Who would know something hot when they saw it.

Suddenly he didn’t feel the least bit tired. No, in fact, he was suddenly in the mood for a beer. How lucky that the resort had a first-class bar.