Page 8 of Too Good to be True

“Ever think I’m the clumsy one?” He sounds playful. I can handle that.

“Clumsy? I thought you were trying to impersonate a ghost.”

“Ha. Here I am trying to make you feel better, and you’re trying to make fun of me.” He doesn’t sound upset or condescending. He sounds...flirtatious?

“I really am sorry for the mess."

"Don't be sorry," he says. The stranger drags his eyes up and down my body. Slow and steady, as he gets to his feet with the stack of towels in hand. "You made me smile. That's not easy to do. Especially not when I’m this tired."

I don’t miss how his eyes linger on my chest as he looks me over. Heischecking me out, and Ilikeit, even though it makes me incredibly nervous. Especially since three times in the last ten seconds, his eyes have met mine, then dropped to my cleavage. And I'm all too aware that I have nothing on under the robe. I wonder if he knows, or at least suspects.

Is it wrong that I want him to keep looking? That I'm tempted to adjust the robe so it's open a bit more, just enough to tempt him? I mean, how wrong can it be to want to turn him on? It's been a long time since anyone showed this kind of interest in me. Any kind of interest in me.

I don't know if it's because I’m in a strange environment or because I'm standing in front of a total stranger in nothing more than a robe that can easily be discarded, but something in my belly stirs and swirls. My nipples tighten beneath the terrycloth. Tingles form between my legs.

"If I'm completely honest," he says, placing his hand on the small of my back and leading us back down the hall, "you made my night."

"Why's that?"

"I feel like running into a beautiful, almost naked woman is my reward for working my ass off the last few days. You've awakened parts of me that I’ve thought were too tired to work. And all of this serves as a giant reminder that I need to balance my work life with some fun."

"What kind of fun?” I ask, hopeful. We are feet from my room, and I'm looking for a way to keep him talking. To keep him near.

"If I weren't so tired, I'd invite you up to my suite and show you," he says, raising his left eyebrow and pulling the side of his mouth up into a half-smile. "Instead," he says with a sigh, "I'm standing here forcing myself to let you return to the lucky guy you're here with."

"There is no lucky guy."

"There has to be. You're too beautiful," his warm eyes run up and down my body like a pair of strong hands caressing me. "You're too scrumptious to be single."

His words spark and crackle, heating the air around me. It's hard to swallow. I don't answer. I can't. Instead, a hot wave washes through me and settles into my cheeks.

"And I'm just not that lucky," he teases. "Actually, I'm wrong. That's exactly my luck. I would meet you tonight when I'm too physically exhausted and mentally drained to do anything about it."

He's turning me down.

I'm not even propositioning him, and already he's turning me down. I do my best to keep the emotions off my face. A skill I've mastered during my time with Corey.

"Oh well," I say, key card in hand, turning toward my door. "Guess it sucks to be you. Because Iamsingle.” I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “And I'dloveto have some fun."

Did I just saythat? Out loud?

"Wait!" He closes his eyes and scrubs his free hand over the light, stubbly beard covering his face. "Is this your room?"

I nod.

"Tell me this isn't your last night here."

"It's not. We just got here."

"We? I thought you said there was no guy."

"There's not."

"Is there a girl?" He looks energized as mischief glints in his eyes.

"No. I'm here for my best friend's wedding."

"Well then, perhaps my luck has changed." He breaks out into a full smile. And for reasons I don't understand, his reaction reassures me and sends my heart soaring.

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