her inhibitions.”
Frowning, he considered it. Shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t help.”
“Don’t be too hard on Mrs. Macken. She was actually the one I overheard say you were Kane’s brother.” The waitress poured champagne into the glasses. Picked them up and sashayed toward him, a siren in high heels and tiny skirt, certain of her appeal, confident of the effect she had on a man. “Though I’d already guessed you two were related, given the resemblance between you.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you knew which room was mine.”
“Now, that’s where my amazing deductive skills come into play.” Stopping in front of him, she offered him a glass. After he took it, she sat on the sofa and crossed those long legs, her foot swinging idly. “It’s obvious no regular room would do for someone like you—”
“Someone like me?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
She vaguely waved a hand at him. “The designer suit, diamond cuff links and that air of privilege and entitlement surrounding you make it clear you only accept the best. The best suites at King’s Crossing are all on this floor, the top floor. The best rooms, the best views of the river... It was all pretty simple, really.”
“And you knocked on every door on this floor until you found me?”
“Not quite. Come,” she said, patting the spot next to her. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you a secret. You can keep a secret, can’t you?”
He sat, his thigh pressed against hers. Let his gaze drop to her mouth for one long minute before meeting her gaze again. “If the price is right, I can.”
“I asked a coworker who works the front desk to find your room number.”
“Which coworker?” It had to have been a man. What warm-blooded, heterosexual male could refuse her anything?
“So you can get him fired?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He set aside his untouched champagne. “Maybe I want to thank him.”
She laughed, a slow, sexy sound, which did nothing to help his already screwed-up equilibrium. “You don’t. You want to march down there and hand him his ass.”
“More of your deductive skills at work?”
“More like good, old-fashioned common sense. It’s clear you’re a man used to getting what you want. You don’t ask for anything. You demand it. And when you don’t get it, there’s hell to pay.”
“These theories you have about me are fascinating.”
“You don’t really think so, but there’s more. For instance, when I asked if you could keep a secret, you said if the price is right , which tells me you don’t do anything free. No favors from you.”
“Favors come with strings attached.”
“I won’t argue. People are inherently users. They’ll take and take and take until a person has nothing left to give. Then they’ll move on to the next poor soul they can suck dry.”
“A cynic.”
She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “A realist. Something we have in common. You’re also neat—no clothes lying around, cluttering up your space, no shoes to trip over. A place for everything and everything in its place, if I had to guess. You have a hard time separating yourself from your work,” she continued, gesturing to his laptop and the contract he’d been reading when she’d knocked on his door. “How am I doing?”
His shoulders went rigid. He didn’t like her reading him so clearly when he couldn’t get a handle on her. Hell, he didn’t even know her name.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said tightly.
“Only one?” she murmured before sipping her champagne. “I must be losing my touch.”
He had to bite back a sudden grin. Damn it, but he appreciated her quick mind. Her self-assurance and intelligence.
Shit. He was in so much trouble.
“You seem to know quite a bit about me,” he said. “But I don’t even know your name.”
“That’s easy enough to fix.” Shifting forward in a movement that did some really interesting things to her breasts in the tight, white
Frowning, he considered it. Shook his head. “Nope. Doesn’t help.”
“Don’t be too hard on Mrs. Macken. She was actually the one I overheard say you were Kane’s brother.” The waitress poured champagne into the glasses. Picked them up and sashayed toward him, a siren in high heels and tiny skirt, certain of her appeal, confident of the effect she had on a man. “Though I’d already guessed you two were related, given the resemblance between you.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you knew which room was mine.”
“Now, that’s where my amazing deductive skills come into play.” Stopping in front of him, she offered him a glass. After he took it, she sat on the sofa and crossed those long legs, her foot swinging idly. “It’s obvious no regular room would do for someone like you—”
“Someone like me?” he asked, eyes narrowed.
She vaguely waved a hand at him. “The designer suit, diamond cuff links and that air of privilege and entitlement surrounding you make it clear you only accept the best. The best suites at King’s Crossing are all on this floor, the top floor. The best rooms, the best views of the river... It was all pretty simple, really.”
“And you knocked on every door on this floor until you found me?”
“Not quite. Come,” she said, patting the spot next to her. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you a secret. You can keep a secret, can’t you?”
He sat, his thigh pressed against hers. Let his gaze drop to her mouth for one long minute before meeting her gaze again. “If the price is right, I can.”
“I asked a coworker who works the front desk to find your room number.”
“Which coworker?” It had to have been a man. What warm-blooded, heterosexual male could refuse her anything?
“So you can get him fired?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He set aside his untouched champagne. “Maybe I want to thank him.”
She laughed, a slow, sexy sound, which did nothing to help his already screwed-up equilibrium. “You don’t. You want to march down there and hand him his ass.”
“More of your deductive skills at work?”
“More like good, old-fashioned common sense. It’s clear you’re a man used to getting what you want. You don’t ask for anything. You demand it. And when you don’t get it, there’s hell to pay.”
“These theories you have about me are fascinating.”
“You don’t really think so, but there’s more. For instance, when I asked if you could keep a secret, you said if the price is right , which tells me you don’t do anything free. No favors from you.”
“Favors come with strings attached.”
“I won’t argue. People are inherently users. They’ll take and take and take until a person has nothing left to give. Then they’ll move on to the next poor soul they can suck dry.”
“A cynic.”
She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “A realist. Something we have in common. You’re also neat—no clothes lying around, cluttering up your space, no shoes to trip over. A place for everything and everything in its place, if I had to guess. You have a hard time separating yourself from your work,” she continued, gesturing to his laptop and the contract he’d been reading when she’d knocked on his door. “How am I doing?”
His shoulders went rigid. He didn’t like her reading him so clearly when he couldn’t get a handle on her. Hell, he didn’t even know her name.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said tightly.
“Only one?” she murmured before sipping her champagne. “I must be losing my touch.”
He had to bite back a sudden grin. Damn it, but he appreciated her quick mind. Her self-assurance and intelligence.
Shit. He was in so much trouble.
“You seem to know quite a bit about me,” he said. “But I don’t even know your name.”
“That’s easy enough to fix.” Shifting forward in a movement that did some really interesting things to her breasts in the tight, white
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