Page 14 of Some Like It Hott

He’s carved out of long, lean, well-proportioned muscle, which is more obvious now because he’s taken off his suit jacket and draped it over the suitcase behind him, and his hand is frozen on one partially rolled sleeve. My eyes are drawn there tractor-beam style because that is quite possibly the best forearm I haveeverseen. His tie is loose now, his hair rumpled—and holy shit, if he looked good buttoned up, he looks even better now.

Except I know he’s the devil.

Plus he’s caught me dancing on a hotel desk. And as previously noted, there’s lots of me on display. Not to mention the spiky heels, the high drama lip syncing, the general bouncing, and all thefuck you I’m powerfulgestures aimed at Lloyd.

Plus, mirror behind me, so: double view.

My cheeks go red hot.

Okay. Two options here.

Die of embarrassment, or…

Try my damnedest to play it cool.

I jam the pause button, tip an earbud out, and slide myself down from the bar—desk—with as much dignity as I can muster.

“I guess you’re not room service,” I say, managing a pretty convincing laugh. Because…well, it’s a tiny bit funny, right?

Preston is definitely not laughing. He’s scowling so hard it looks like he might break something. And as I watch, he reverses direction and rolls the sleeve back down, covering that delectable well-muscled, golden-tanned arm. As if to say,This is not a situation where I can afford to relax.

It makes me feel even more exposed. I scan the room for my top, but it’s behind him, on the bed, and somehow it feels worse to let him know that I give a shit that he’s seen me mostly naked.

“What are you doing in here?” I ask.

“They gave me this room key.”

“Well, it’s my room,” I say.

“There must’ve been a computer glitch and they thought it was empty. I’ll get another. Sorry to interrupt your—” He gestures in the general direction of my body, turning away as he does.

Thanks, dude.

“Dancing,” I say. “I wasdancing.”

Then he looks back. “You’re going to ruin that desk.” His voice is deep and cultured and as chilly as the mist rising off ice.

My eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”

“It’s not made for wearing shoes on. Especially not shoes like—those. You’re going to scratch the surface. Not to mention that I’m pretty sure they didn’t test the desk for that kind of stress.”

He didn’t just say that.

Hedid. And I’m pretty sure I don’t imagine that his eyes are moving over my whole body, a thorough perusal, or that he scowls again once he’s taken me in.

Okay. Nope. That’s…nope.

“Did you just make a crack about my weight?”

“No!” He has enough self-awareness to go red at that, and to look completely abashed. “God, no. I would never.”

“Sounds an awful lot like you did.”

“I was simply noting that the desktop wasn’t made for jumping around on.”

“Dancing,”I repeat. I can’t decide if I want to laugh or cry.

“My point stands. You shouldn’t be doing that. It’s not safe. And the other hotel guests probably don’t love the clomping.”

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