Page 18 of The Mistakes I've Made
Remember who you’re talking to, my common sense reminded me.
Right. Hotel heiress here to ruin my life.
I straightened a little, my hands finding my pockets as I took a cursory glance around the foyer. I tried not to concentrate too much of my attention on the beautiful woman at the bottom of the steps, her legs so long that they could wrap around my waist without difficulty.
Nope. Not the thing to be thinking about.
Definitely not.
“I am actually surprised you showed,” she said, her sandals echoing against the old wooden floor as she stepped off the last step. It brought attention to her height.
Or lack thereof.
At six foot four, I dwarfed just about everyone, but Leilani was at least a foot shorter than me, barely coming up to my shoulders. For a brief moment, I wondered what it’d be like to have her in my arms, her head buried in my chest.
Would her hair smell as good as I imagined?
“Oh?” I asked, dismissing the thought with a shake of my head. “Why wouldn’t I have shown? Do I look like a guy who stands up his dates?”
She walked a sort of semicircle around me, like she was circling her prey. That, or she was checking me out. I preferred the latter.
“No,” she said with a knowing grin. “You definitely look like the type who always shows.”
What the hell does that mean?
“But I figured that once you found out who I was, you’d pass judgment like the rest of the town has, and bail.”
My eyes widened. Oh, so the gossip had spread long, far, and fast.
So much so that even Leilani had heard.
She gave me an amused expression, her eyebrows raised as she looked up at me. “Your town thinks I’m the devil, huh?”
“Well, no,” I said. “More like the daughter of the devil.”
She threw her arms up in disbelief, the icy demeanor she wore beginning to slip. “That’s great! That’s just freaking great. And you came here to what? Exorcise me?”
“What?”
“You know, likeThe Exorcist, the movie?”
“Oh.” I grinned. “No. Well, I mean…would that work?”
She didn’t find my brand of funny amusing, but I found her frustration delightful.
“No,” she growled.
“I’m here, hoping that maybe you’ll reconsider.”
Her eyes met mine, and it was the first time I noticed their color—bright blue, like the ocean on a summer day. “Reconsider what?”
“Whatever it is that you’re about to do, because I can tell you right now; this town isn’t your cup of tea. We’re not into glitz and glam. We’re simple.”
Those brilliant blue eyes seemed to darken right before me as the words I’d spoken settled. “Does the town own The Cozy Hotel?”
“No,” I said. “But they feel—”
“Who owns The Cozy Hotel?”
