"Come on, Luanne, you know it's been awhile." Aidan
cast a smoldering look in the redhead's direction. The sassy
front desk clerk wasn't buying it, judging from her crossed
arms and don't-touch-me stance.
"Tough, Aidan. You know I like you
and all, but after that time all those months ago you never
called me, never came
to chat with me like you used to before we hopped in the sack
together."
"I meant to, honey. Work's just
been busy."
"I'm sure it has. Much as I'd love
to, no way. Besides, I have a boyfriend now."
"So?"
She raised a perfectly arched brow at
him. "That means
hands off."
Aidan looked to his left and right, hoping
his omnipresent brother, Logan, wouldn't catch him trying
to get it on with
the front desk clerk. He reached across the shiny counter to
grab a piece of Lu's silken hair in his hand, letting it trail
through his fingers suggestively. "You remember how good
it was between us, don't you?"
Luanne sighed, her face colored a bright pink, and she licked
her lips. Recalling how her wide mouth felt around the tip
of his penis had the unruly bastard twitching in his pants.
Not now, dammit.
Like his cock would ever listen to anything he said.
Just as Lu started bobbing her head in the positive direction,
a cold hand squeezed his shoulder. He didn't even need to look
to know who was there.
"Hey, Logan," Aidan said without turning around. "I
was just checking something with Lu."
A deep, dark voice dripping with ice
responded. "You
were checking to see how long it would take until she'd drop
her panties for you?"
Luanne cringed, offered a shaky smile
and scurried off. Aidan turned and looked into the frosty
blue eyes of his brother,
the CEO of The Rising Storm Hotel. Sometimes Aidan hated that
Logan had been born first. "If you gotta know, then yeah.
I was about to coax her panties right off her."
"Do it on your own time, not company time," Logan
said, offering a menacing glare that usually froze the hotel
employees into doing his bidding. But after nearly thirty years
of having that look turned on him it held little fear for Aidan.
"Merde, Logan. You have the worst
goddamn timing I've ever seen."
One corner of Logan's mouth lifted. "You'll
survive without female companionship for a bit longer. Besides,
you have work
to do.
Aidan glanced at his watch and swore. "That's
right. The Boston woman."
Logan shook his head. "The Boston
woman's name is Melissa Cross, and she's Director of Marketing
for the Chesapeake Casino
organization. You know damn well that this dual venture between
our hotel and their casino is a big step for us. So don't fuck
it up."
Aidan leaned against the reservation
counter and crossed his arms. "Like I would do anything
to jeopardize the family business."
"If your dick's involved, then yeah.
Keep it zipped. Don't screw this deal, and for God's sake
don't screw our new
partner."
Aidan laughed at that. Fun was fun, but business was business.
He had plenty of females to play with. The last thing he needed
was an entanglement with some uppity Boston socialite whose
touch would probably ice his balls. He preferred his women
with warm, willing bodies, and sizzling hot desires.
Just like him.
Okay, maybe he liked all women. They were warm, soft, smelled
good and eased the perennial ache that burned inside him. If
the ones he dallied with didn't challenge him enough to keep
them for more than a few episodes of fun in the sack, it was
his fault, not theirs.
There was no such thing as a soulmate or the woman he was
destined to be with. That was his mother's magical mumbo jumbo
that he listened politely to and then promptly discarded.
"Anyway," Logan said, inclining his head, "she's
waiting for you over in the sitting area. Maria said she'd
stopped at the desk awhile ago, and she doesn't look happy."
Aidan followed Logan's gaze to the center of the lobby where
a tall, cool blonde stood with her arms crossed. She looked
more than a little miffed.
Nice. More than nice. A surge of heat arced through him, the
air tingling with electricity. That never happened before when
he looked at a woman. Oh, he might feel a little tingle, but
not an outright jolt.
And the icy blonde was not his type at all. He preferred dark,
sultry brunettes, petite and with a sassy fire that lit up
the bedroom.
This one couldn't be more different. Long, straight, honey
blonde hair was pulled back in some kind of binding, but he
bet it would feel like silk once let loose and wrapped around
his fingers. Or wrapped around his cock, which twitched in
recognition of a fine looking female. Her simple navy blue
suit shouldn't have done anything for his libido, but the killer
legs and high heels below the suit had him imagining those
long limbs wrapped around his back.
He counted backward from one hundred - in French, figuring
he'd better tamp down his hard-on before he went to meet Ms.
Cross.
* * * * *
Melissa Cross stood in the seating area of The Rising Storm
Hotel, surveying what she'd been told was New Orleans' newest
and most fashionable addition to the French Quarter tourist
area. She tapped her foot and scanned her watch. Her appointment
was ten minutes late.
At least his tardiness gave her time to survey the hotel the
Chesapeake Casinos would be partnered with in their latest
venture. Primarily a northeastern organization, Chesapeake
had recently decided to venture into other prime gaming areas
throughout the United States. New Orleans' popularity with
travelers eager to spend gambling dollars on the Mississippi
was a great place to start.
This was only the beginning. If Melissa played her cards right
and this deal came off without a hitch, she could name her
price. She'd be a winner.
And winning was everything in her book.
The Rising Storm was an elegant hotel, modern yet still holding
on to New Orleans' history and values. The minute she'd walked
into the lobby of flowing fountains, brick flooring and wrought
iron railings she'd felt transported back to New Orleans of
old. And yet the hotel boasted the modern conveniences so popular
for travelers today.
With the addition of the casino a short walk behind the hotel,
The Rising Storm would be a force to contend with in the French
Quarter. A winner.
Checking her watch again, she heaved a frustrated sigh. This
Aidan Storm she was supposed to work with was not a winner
in her book. Already fifteen minutes late.
Her wandering gaze caught sight of two men standing under
the Reservations sign at the main counter. Not typically interested
in male eye candy, she couldn't seem to turn away once she'd
focused on them. Both tall, dark and devastatingly handsome,
they could almost pass for twins. Considering the suits they
wore, they were either at the hotel on business or maybe employees.
Although they looked similar, the one on the right caught
her eye more than the other. Not that he was more handsome.
There was simply something about him. Her heart skidded against
her ribs when he made eye contact with her and graced her with
a smile that turned her knees to jelly.
Wow. Wow. And she was not a wow kind of woman. Men just didn't
rumble over her like a sudden thunderstorm, but for some reason
this one did. Maybe it was the way he looked her over, which
normally she would find insulting. Instead, her body warmed
from the inside out, and considering the air conditioning in
the hotel, it couldn't be the sultry late July heat making
her break out into a sweat.
If her colleagues back in Boston could see her now, all hot
under the collar and nearly drooling over a man, they'd laugh
out loud. They called her frosty Cross behind her back, although
she was well aware of the comments they made about her. One
of her favorites was that her clothes must be made of ice because
no man could melt them off.
And many had tried.
She'd only allowed one man to warm her, and had been burned
so badly she'd allow no one to chip through her protective
layer again. She'd nearly lost it all and for what? A man?
Sex? Never again.
Not that she'd never have sex again. But she'd never have
it with someone she worked with. That mistake she'd made a
few years ago had nearly cost her everything. Now, at twenty-seven,
she knew better.
Business was her passion. Success was her love. She didn't
have time nor inclination for involvement with a man. Sometimes
she wondered if she simply wasn't cut out for a relationship.
She'd failed miserably at her choices before. Some things were
better left alone.
She blew out a frustrated breath. This type of musing wasn't
good. There was no sense mulling over the past and things that
could never be when she had work to do. Work she'd already
have started on had Aidan Storm showed up on time.
The hot guy turned and strolled her way. She shifted and tried
to act cool, feeling stupid for the whirlwind of emotions sailing
through her at the thought of the Adonis in a black suit having
even the slightest interest in speaking with her.
But he certainly was heading right toward her, his gaze determined
and a wicked smile gracing his full, sensuous lips.
"Melissa Cross?" he asked in
a mix of southern and French accent that seemed to settle
somewhere between her legs,
moistening her in a way that shocked her to her toes. No man
did that to her. No man made her wet by saying her name.
"Yes." She fought to keep the
waver out of her voice.
Holding out a hand, he said, "I'm
Aidan Storm. Sorry to be late. I was talking to my brother,
Logan, and lost track
of time. I hope you can forgive me."
This was Aidan Storm? This was her partner? She slid her hand
into his, heat arcing through her at his touch, and knew immediately--she
was doomed.
"Nice to meet you, Aidan."
He crooked a smile. "No one told
me you'd be beautiful."
Now there was a line if she ever heard
one. Shaking off thoughts of humid nights and silken sheets
and two naked bodies twined
together, she remembered who she was. And more importantly,
what she wasn't. "I think you can drop the pleasantries,
Aidan. This isn't a date and I prefer to keep my professional
relationships just that - professional."
"Whatever you say, cher," he replied in that delicious
accent that made her want to lick it off his lips. "Let's
get you settled into your room and I'll show you around."
She nodded and followed him, trying not to notice his tall,
well built body. The dark suit fit him so well it looked like
it had been especially tailored for him. Nor did she want to
notice his crisp, clean scent. A man like him didn't need to
rely on cologne - his natural scent nearly had her coming in
her panties.
Blowing out a breath, Melissa mentally repeated over and over
that Aidan Storm was a business partner, not a potential sex
mate. Even if her traitorous mind reminded her it had been
a very long time since she'd had a man in her bed.
After dealing with her reservations and making arrangements
for her bags to be delivered to her room, Aidan escorted her
through the lobby and toward the elevators.
"So, you're from Boston?" he
asked as they rode the elevator.
Melissa kept her distance, preferring
not to court dangerous thoughts any more than she already
had. "Yes."
"You like it there?"
"Yes."
"It's cold up there, isn't it?"
"I like the weather in Boston." Hopefully
he'd grab a clue that she wasn't interested in idle chit
chat.
"I like it hot."
Oh, lord. She wished she could slap the side of her head and
vanish the heated thoughts his statement had conjured.
They arrived at her floor and Aidan led her to her room.
"Since you'll be here for awhile
we're giving you a suite. We thought it might make you feel
a little more at home than
in a standard room."
He slid the key card into the slot and opened the door, standing
aside for her to step in.
Like the rest of the hotel, the suite was decorated with Creole
antiques and French reproductions. And it was huge. Two large
windows looked out over the courtyard below. An expansive living
area was populated with brocade covered couches and an oversized
work desk. She stepped over to a side set of doors which opened
onto a private balcony, complete with wrought iron table and
chairs.
"This is way too fancy for me," she said, ignoring
the very tall, very imposing man standing in the center of
the room. "A regular guest room would have been fine."
"Nonsense," he replied, beckoning
her into the bedroom. A dark four poster bed centered the
room, with a matching dresser
and a makeup table nearby. She followed him into a bathroom
any woman would fall in love with. A huge marble countertop
and vanity were etched in intricate swirls of beige. The glass
shower could fit four people inside easily. Also set entirely
in marble, the Jacuzzi tub was wide and long enough for two
people.
There were those blasted images again, of her and Aidan in
that tub filled with scented oils, the jets pulsing a rhythmic
beat against them and her naked body resting against his. She
let out a shaky sigh, hoping his mind was tuned elsewhere.
But when she turned to him, it was quite obvious it wasn't.
How had his sultry amber eyes escaped her before? They darkened
and smoldered, capturing her in their warmth.
"Like the tub?" he asked.
"Yes, it's nice." She turned
away and fled the bathroom.
"Would you like a few moments to
unpack? Change?"
"No, I'm ready for a tour of the hotel if you don't mind." And
to get the hell out of this room that made her think of humid
nights and hot sex. Specifically with the man standing in her
room. What would it be like to throw caution to the wind and
actually act on her thoughts? She'd never been impulsive before.
Thinking without acting led to trouble, she knew that.
But once, just once in her damn life she'd like to do something
naughty, something exciting, without thinking of the consequences,
without dwelling on the outcome. Do something just because
she felt like it.
Yeah right. That would happen the first time someone actually
thought of her as a hot, babelicious blonde who exuded sex
from her pores. She almost laughed out loud at that thought.
