than water, was the side salad and it was twenty-five dollars. She shook her head. “No. I’m a mess.”
“I don’t see a mess. I see your beautiful green eyes and blonde hair.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going in, Kyle.”
“Fine, then. We’ll have it delivered.” He hopped out of the truck, tossed the valet his keys, and jogged around to open her door. He laughed. “Come on. What do you care how these stuffed shirts see you?”
“I don’t. I just know I won’t be comfortable in there.”
“Like I said, we’ll have it delivered.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“And you’re being stubborn.” He grabbed her waist and lifted her from the truck. “Trust me.”
Sharon, holding Kyle’s hand, followed him through the lobby of the grand hotel. She tried her best to keep her mouth closed, as she was in awe of her surroundings. The floor was shiny, black marble. The walls were creamy beige with black, metal artwork hung precisely to allow the recessed lighting to highlight the features. Huge pillars sectioned off sitting areas where the furniture was steel or aluminum, she didn’t know which, but the cushions were dark, brown leather. A table in each area boasted a crimson and vanilla colored flower centerpiece…by the fragrance in the vast room, the flowers were real.
“Mr. Phillips.” An older man behind the marble and wood counter of the front desk greeted Kyle with a nod and handed him a key card. “Your room.”
He was getting a room? Not that she was surprised they were staying in Jackson—she did agree to stay with him and call in to work, but she didn’t expect to stay here . And how did that man know Kyle’s name anyway?
Sharon caught a glimpse of Kyle looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Thanks, but I’ll need something smaller. Please,” he said as he returned the card.
The man shot a quick look to Sharon. She was positive he was silently disapproving of her, and the thought crossed her mind to flip the guy off, but she held back, instead opting to step closer to Kyle. Being against him would be one hundred times more satisfying than giving the bird to a judgmental stranger.
“Room 614, Mr. Phillips, and I hope it’s more satisfactory.” He passed the key card back to Kyle. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Just one minute, Charles.” Kyle leaned his head down to Sharon’s. “What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t know what they serve.” Finally she realized what he meant when he said ‘we’ll have it delivered.’
Kyle kissed her on top of the head and put his arm around her waist, squeezing her closer. “Anything you want.”
Chapter 6
Kyle watched as Sharon moved her half-eaten plate of spaghetti to the bedside table and stared at the fire. Her green eyes were beautiful as the flames reflected from them. They had their supper sitting on the king-sized bed, directly across from a stone fireplace. The room was smaller than the Presidential Suite Charles had handed him the key for, but it was not lacking in luxury. None of the rooms at any of the Donovan Properties were short in splendor.
Kyle moved his plate from the down comforter then released the hair tie from her hair, enthralled as her golden locks fell against her back. He ran his hands through the flowing mane, and the tips of his fingers grazed her back, making him shudder. She was quiet, had been since they entered the lobby. He knew she was uncomfortable about eating at the restaurant downstairs, but staying in the hotel—for him it was like being home, for her though—it may have been too much.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked, gathering her hair and knotting it up with the tie.
“I used to, a long time ago. Why?” The muscles in his chest released spasms. He had a lot to tell her.
“I heard the man behind the desk call you Mr. Phillips when you walked up to him. I figured you were a frequent flyer here or something like it.”
“It’s
“I don’t see a mess. I see your beautiful green eyes and blonde hair.”
She shook her head. “I’m not going in, Kyle.”
“Fine, then. We’ll have it delivered.” He hopped out of the truck, tossed the valet his keys, and jogged around to open her door. He laughed. “Come on. What do you care how these stuffed shirts see you?”
“I don’t. I just know I won’t be comfortable in there.”
“Like I said, we’ll have it delivered.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“And you’re being stubborn.” He grabbed her waist and lifted her from the truck. “Trust me.”
Sharon, holding Kyle’s hand, followed him through the lobby of the grand hotel. She tried her best to keep her mouth closed, as she was in awe of her surroundings. The floor was shiny, black marble. The walls were creamy beige with black, metal artwork hung precisely to allow the recessed lighting to highlight the features. Huge pillars sectioned off sitting areas where the furniture was steel or aluminum, she didn’t know which, but the cushions were dark, brown leather. A table in each area boasted a crimson and vanilla colored flower centerpiece…by the fragrance in the vast room, the flowers were real.
“Mr. Phillips.” An older man behind the marble and wood counter of the front desk greeted Kyle with a nod and handed him a key card. “Your room.”
He was getting a room? Not that she was surprised they were staying in Jackson—she did agree to stay with him and call in to work, but she didn’t expect to stay here . And how did that man know Kyle’s name anyway?
Sharon caught a glimpse of Kyle looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Thanks, but I’ll need something smaller. Please,” he said as he returned the card.
The man shot a quick look to Sharon. She was positive he was silently disapproving of her, and the thought crossed her mind to flip the guy off, but she held back, instead opting to step closer to Kyle. Being against him would be one hundred times more satisfying than giving the bird to a judgmental stranger.
“Room 614, Mr. Phillips, and I hope it’s more satisfactory.” He passed the key card back to Kyle. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Just one minute, Charles.” Kyle leaned his head down to Sharon’s. “What do you want to eat?”
“I don’t know what they serve.” Finally she realized what he meant when he said ‘we’ll have it delivered.’
Kyle kissed her on top of the head and put his arm around her waist, squeezing her closer. “Anything you want.”
Chapter 6
Kyle watched as Sharon moved her half-eaten plate of spaghetti to the bedside table and stared at the fire. Her green eyes were beautiful as the flames reflected from them. They had their supper sitting on the king-sized bed, directly across from a stone fireplace. The room was smaller than the Presidential Suite Charles had handed him the key for, but it was not lacking in luxury. None of the rooms at any of the Donovan Properties were short in splendor.
Kyle moved his plate from the down comforter then released the hair tie from her hair, enthralled as her golden locks fell against her back. He ran his hands through the flowing mane, and the tips of his fingers grazed her back, making him shudder. She was quiet, had been since they entered the lobby. He knew she was uncomfortable about eating at the restaurant downstairs, but staying in the hotel—for him it was like being home, for her though—it may have been too much.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked, gathering her hair and knotting it up with the tie.
“I used to, a long time ago. Why?” The muscles in his chest released spasms. He had a lot to tell her.
“I heard the man behind the desk call you Mr. Phillips when you walked up to him. I figured you were a frequent flyer here or something like it.”
“It’s
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