Page 21 of Restrained

“Aren’t they all to be the same?”

That was my understanding anyway. His irritation is palpable even if I can’t see his face. “Yes, but it’s still a different location. I want you to be inside of every one of them to get the correct feel.”

His intensity is unmatched and somehow thrilling to me. “Alright.”

“Goodbye, Lola.” That’s all before he hangs up the phone.

Who are you, Hayden West?

11

HAYDEN

“Red? No.”

Lola huffs, clearly sick of me, but I don’t care. She’s dressed in a black pencil skirt with a v-neck button-down black blouse, and even a black belt around her waist. But the all-black look, paired with her sunny blond hair, somehow doesn’t seem dark.

Some people dressed in all black would look like they were heading to a funeral. But not her. She just looks professional and sexy as hell.

And it’s fucking distracting.

“Red would be the perfect pop of color in the room.”

I hate that she doesn’t back down. “Fucking red?”

“You have a problem with red? Would you prefer bright pink?” One hand rests on her hip as her head cocks to the right.

That question nearly brings a smile to my lips, but I fight it. “No.”

She looks around the bedroom in the second hotel. “Black bedding with very, very slight gold trim. Black drapes. You need some hint of color.”

“So, a red chair.”

“Yes.” She nods her head with conviction, and I give in.

“Okay. Fine.”

She walks to the corner of the room. “And what about a desk?”

“No.”

She turns to look at me, irritation creeping over her gorgeous face again as I watch her taking a deep breath, which keeps her from lunging to choke the life out of me. “Why? Hotels have desks.”

“Not this one.”

“This like your ‘no TV in the bedroom’ thing?”

Her perfectly manicured eyebrow lifts in amusement, and this time I do smile. She doesn’t like my rules. “Yes. No desk. Desks promote work. We’re promoting leisure.”

“Okay, Mr. Career. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be working nonstop if you were staying here?”

I take a seat on the edge of the mattress and loosen the tie around my neck. “I would be. I’m sure.”

“Exactly.” She points at me like she already knew that. “You and everyone I know is career-driven. Even when we’re on vacation, we’re working. The room needs a desk.”

“I told you what the bedroom is for.”

I like the blush that creeps up her neck to her cheeks at the mention of the bedroom. And my thoughts quickly move to what she’s like in bed. She’s a fighter, but she probably likes to be made love to. A sensitive soul.

---