Page 12 of The Sweetmate
“I’ll sleep in the car if I can’t find another room,” I say.
“No,” they say at the same time.
“I’ll take the couch,” Casey offers.
Jensen pauses at the door and gives me a small smile. “I’ll let you two work this out. Don’t kill him. He’s a good guy.”
And with that, he leaves. Just leaves me there to panic alone in a room with a stranger. Even thoughhe’sa stranger, too. I guess one stranger is better than two.
Casey takes a cautious step toward me and stares at my face intently. “Are you going to be alright? You’re lookin’ a bit pale.”
I look over to the couch and sigh. I can’t let my client sleep there. What do I do? This is so awkward. The door shuts, and the room falls eerily quiet.
I blink up at him, noting his large frame. He seems to have doubled in size in the last two minutes. Gosh, he’s devastatingly handsome. I’ve never actually seen anyone this beautiful in person. Golden sun-kissed skin, perfectly shaped lips, piercing blue eyes, wavy dirty-blond hair, and a jawline that could cut glass. He’s all muscle but still has a boyish charm with that perfectly white smile. And oh my gosh—is that a dimple? No. I’m not the type of girl who loses it over a dimple. I’m not going to turn into a puddle here on the floor because some guy with perfect hair and godlike features looks my way. I can share a room with the world’s sexiest man. No big deal. Clearly, he isn’t planning on murdering me, either. That’d be horrible press for him.
“Lisa.”
“I’m fine,” I snap.
His eyes widen, and he releases a startled chuckle. “Good to know. By your tone, I think you’re lying. Not the best way to start off as roomies. Honesty and communication are key.”
I’m going to be sharing a room with a semi-celebrity. A rising personality figure and the hottest chef in the US. This place is way too small for the both of us, mainly because his ego takes up most of the space. We have to keep this professional, and it’s clear that’s going to be up to me.
“Do not call me your roomie.”
“Suitemates? Or rathersweet mates.Get it? S-W-E-E-T.”
“Ha. Ha. Because you’re a pastry chef. Yeah, I get it.”
“No. Because I’m so damn sweet.”
He waggles his eyebrows, and I loathe how my stomach warms at the sight. Casey takes another step toward me. “Should I pour us a drink? You’re wound really tight.”
Of course I am. This is my first client. My career is on the line. I just learned he’s my boss’s nephew. The last thing I need to do is loosen up and allow alcohol to hinder my judgment.
“I’m just tired from traveling.” Which is true. I’d worked all day and then had to pack, andthenI had to hightail it to the airport. It’s all been a whirlwind. It’s still surreal that I’m here and doing this. I need to have a moment to decompress. “I think I’m going to get some rest, and tomorrow we can regroup.”
His smile turns mocking, and he arches a single brow. “Regroup?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, that’s my bed you’re standing by.”
“No. I’m sleeping on the couch.”
“You’re the client. Please take the bedroom.”
“I am the client. And I want to sleep on the couch.”
“No,” I draw out.“Take the bed.”
“No.” He mimics drawing out the word even more dramatically. “Give me my couch.”
I don’t even recognize my own voice as I speak in a forceful tone. “Get in the bednow.”
Casey’s eyes become heated as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He dips his chin and gazes at me through his long lashes. “And then what?”
