Page 32 of Off Limits
“Thanks.” He bumped Sam’s shoulder. He held up a finger to Maya as he finished serving his current customers, then strolled down the bar. “Another round?”
“Thanks, but no. We’re heading back to the hotel.” She pushed her two empties across the bar. “Close out the tab.”
He rung her tab. She signed and tapped the counter with her freshly manicured nails.
A pause. Then she said, “Room 1142. Hyatt near the convention center.” She slid the plastic keycard across the bar like it meant nothing. Then she lowered her head just enough to meet his eyes through thick lashes—an invitation wrapped in seduction. Without another word, she turned and walked out, her friend trailing behind, both of them laughing like they owned the night.
Brady stood in the back lot of Dog Tired, leaning against the side of his Mercedes, his hand buried deep in his pocket. His fingers traced the smooth, cool surface of the hotel keycard.
He shouldn’t go.
But maybe—just maybe—banging it out with someone else would help clear his head. Maybe the only way past Jane was straight through someone else.
No strings. No vulnerability. No chance of getting hurt or hurting anyone.
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
He slid into the driver’s seat, started the car and let the low purr of the engine feed his adrenaline. The tires squealed slightly as he pulled onto the road.
The valet at the Hyatt gave a knowing nod as he handed off the keys. Eleven stories up, Brady stood outside Room 1142 with the keycard in hand. He knocked. Because despite what this was, or wasn’t, he wasn’t about to barge in uninvited.
The door flew open almost instantly.
Maya laughed, full-throated and unfiltered. She wore nothing but a pair of lacy black panties, hip cocked, lips glossy. Her surgically enhanced chest barely moved with her laughter.
He froze.
She was nothing like Jane. Nothing. Where Jane was all subtlety and grace, Maya was bold. Jane’s hair shimmered like morning sun. Maya’s was bleached to the edge of platinum.
He swallowed hard. He was here. That had to count for something.
This was supposed to be easy. Clean. A decision without consequences. So why did the air feel thick with guilt?
Stop thinking about Jane.
“You coming in or just gonna stare at me all night?” she asked in a sultry voice.
He stepped inside. A citrusy scent permeated the air. Vibrant floral paintings decorated the cream walls. A soft white comforter covered the king-sized bed. Maya had clothes strewn over the lounger near the large window. The blackout and sheer curtains hung wide open, leaving a view of the very active pool area below.
He could do this. He used toonlydo this.
He bent slightly, placed a hand on her bare waist, and felt her lean into him. But even with her skin under his palm, the fire didn’t burn. The electricity that used to surge with lust was absent. Instead, all he saw behind his eyes was Jane—her laughter, her tears, the tremble in her voice when she told him—You could have me. You just choose not to.
He stepped back.
“Shit,” he muttered and ran a hand over his face.
Maya tilted her head. “You okay?”
He shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping. “You’re gorgeous, and I’m a fucking idiot.” He pulled the keycard from his pocket and dropped it on the dresser. “This was a mistake. I can’t do this.”
“Are you married?” She huffed, her gaze dropping to his left hand.
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not. But Iamvery much in love with someone else.”
There it was. Out in the open. Not to Jane. Or Rex. But to someone. Someone besides himself knew the truth—he was indisputably, unequivocally, hopelessly in love. Madly. Deeply.
Maya tossed back the last of her drink, the ice clinking in the tumbler. “Your loss,” she said with resignation.
