1 Hot Scheming Mess (26 page)

“I helped myself to a water bottle,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” He kept watching her and sighed. She wondered if he were just tired.

She continued, “The hotel had two water bottles on the nightstand,” as she brought the other water bottle to his desk where he stood and set it down. “Like they knew there would be two people—”

“I can’t do this,” he said.

“Do what?” she asked.

“I can’t give up on you and then have you around. I shouldn’t have taken the clock. I’m really sorry. But you have your envelope now, right?”

Madison didn’t say anything.

He continued, “You should probably go.”

It hung in the air as she watched his eyes, and she saw that his eyes matched the words. She waited to see if he would say more. He didn’t.

She broke the silence and asked, “Are you sure?”

“You’re a sweet vanilla cake with chocolate icing, and if I’m going to stick to my diet, I should stop looking at the cake.”

She got closer, and where he would normally have reached out and pulled her to him, he just stood there. She said, “You can’t have the cake…” she slid her hands under his t-shirt, up the front of his chest, and said, “but a little cupcake is something else.”

“You don’t mean it,” he said simply.

“Well, if you started talking about making a commitment, yeah, that would scare me off,” said Madison. She pulled her hands out from under his t-shirt, smoothing it out to leave it the way she found it. “I can’t know what I’m looking for, if I don’t know what I want.”

“That makes two of us.”

“And neither of us wants to be fuck buddies,” she added. “That’s not the same as romance.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Those terms are fine. But the problem—”

“You agree?”

“Yes. But the problem is that although you think you mean it, you’ll back out. You’ll find some reason to… what are you doing?”

Madison had kicked off her shoes and stepped away, undoing her shorts as he talked. She let them fall to the floor as she walked, stepping out of them as she crossed the room, then pulled her tank top over her head, throwing it down.

“Madison. This isn’t fair. Of course I want you; you don’t have to prove it.” She stepped into the bathroom where he couldn’t see her, and let him see her sizable bra go flying out the bathroom door into the room. She heard it hit the carpeted floor. Then she threw out her panties and heard him chuckle.

“You little bitch,” he said. “You little teasing bitch. I should throw you out naked and let you see how it feels.”

She stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her from her bust down to her upper thighs. “You read my mind,” she said, and headed for the front door.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Penance.”

“What? Penance?”

“Yup. You’re never going to get over it until I do this.”

She looked out the peephole and saw no one. She opened the door, and stuck her head out, looking up and down the hallway. All clear.

ExBoy called out, “You are not! You crazy idiot, you are not!”

She turned around to face him with the door open behind her. He was still standing there at the back of the room with his mouth hanging open but a thrill in his eyes.

She announced, “Room service. There’s a cupcake out here. You’d better get it before someone reports it.” She opened her towel to flash him, closed it, and stepped to the edge of the doorway, looking down at the way the pattern on the carpet changed crossing the threshold into the hallway. With a deep breath as her hands became a vice on her towel, she crossed, letting the door close behind her, the metallic click and thud announcing that there was no way back in.

She knew she was in for a wait. She had seen in ExBoy’s eyes that he was excited with mischief. He would not break quickly. He was going to make her sweat. She should have checked her sanity before trying this stunt.

Now that she was out here in the hallway, one extra detail came up. It was cold. The heat in the hallway was not at the same comfort level as in the room. In the hot summer months, the air-conditioning blew extra cold, and drafts blew down the hallway sending a chill up her towel. She hoped he would open up soon.

The hallway was still clear. Most of the hotel guests were probably already out to dinner. She leaned against the wall opposite ExBoy’s door, putting a foot up on the wall behind her, her knee sticking forward, waiting to see when he would open the door. Now would be a good time to come up with the right kind of story about why she was out here in the hallway wearing nothing but a towel.

She realized he must be watching her through the peephole, so she opened and closed the towel just in the direction of his door. She looked up at the peephole, hoping that he really was there. She wagged her eyebrows up and down, and mouthed the word “cupcake.”

The door didn’t move.

Uh-oh.
She kept her eyes on that doorknob, willing it to turn, but keeping her ears open for the sound of anyone in the hallway. Whole minutes were ticking by and she was getting cold, damn it. She reminded herself of why she was doing this. She wanted him to know that she was sorry for the way she had treated him the other night, and was now trying to back up her apology with this gesture of risk.

Maybe I should turn up the heat a little.
She opened the towel again, tilted her head way back against the wall, her face toward the ceiling, and inhaled deeply, letting her breasts rise and fall a few times. But the cold made her nipples into hard and tight little points. This was taking much longer than she had anticipated. Looking at the peephole, she closed the towel and said in a loud voice, “Show’s over.” The door didn’t move.
Damn it!

Ding! She heard an elevator.
Shit.
She went rigid, looking down the hallway in the direction of the ding sound. She waited, and sure enough, the elevator door opened and a waiter with a room service cart wheeled out. She looked frantically at the peephole, eyes wide and pointing in the direction of the elevator, but the door didn’t open. She knew damned well he was watching!

The waiter was bent over, hands on the push bar, pushing the cart down the hallway, coming closer, in no hurry. The glassware and china on the cart clinked a delicate little rhythm while the metal trays under the cart snapped in time. Madison turned around, pretending to gaze at an abstract painting on the wall, her face getting hot.
This is not happening.

She hoped that the waiter would assume that she was returning from the pool. Then she wondered if the hotel even had a pool. As she faced the wall, obsessed with the painting, the cart drew closer till she thought it would pass.

But it stopped.

She kept staring at the painting. If he doesn’t open that door right now, his death will be slow.

She heard, “Ma’am?” She turned slowly wearing a lovely smile, her fingers drained of any blood from clutching the towel so hard.

“This is for you. Will you sign here, please?” The smile on her face went rigid when she looked down. There sat a cocktail. A rum and Coke. The bill was charged to ExBoy’s room number.

She looked up at the peephole sending death rays through it and signed, adding a little gigantic something to tip the waiter.

His eyes went huge and he said, “Thank you! Thank you, ma’am! Have a wonderful night!” Pushing the cart in the opposite direction, he returned to the elevator with a big grin, looking back over his shoulder at Madison. She smiled, hanging onto her towel with one hand, and lifted her drink to him in a toast with the other as he wheeled into the elevator, happy. The elevator door closed.

ExBoy opened his door, unencumbered by clothing, and leaned casually against the side of the doorframe. There was that loaded weapon again.

“You never told me you were kinky,” he said.

She stepped closer, relieved he finally had opened the door. “You call this kinky? Please. I have the same agent as Jen. I could tell you some stories.”

“No need. You proved your point.” He took her drink away while his other arm encircled her waist, pulling her into the doorway and lifting her off her feet. He murmured, “Now it’s my turn to prove a few things.”

He turned them toward the interior of the room as he kissed her, her feet never touching the ground. The door closed, the towel fell, and seconds later he threw her down on the bed.

The bounce was delightful.

Chapter Twenty-Six

She awoke from the after-sex nap to find ExBoy sitting up in bed, talking on the hotel phone, his sandy colored hair hanging near his eyes. Reviving from the short sleep, she heard the words “room service” as she slid across the luscious sheets to reach him, laying her head on his pillow and tickling his side. He gave a mild jerk, twisting around to grab her hand as it turned into a silent little arm wrestle while he ordered the food.

“Also, add the dessert sampler of… hold on,” he looked at Madison and asked, “chocolate or citrus?”

“Are you sure you want to do that? That’s going to be expensive.”

Holding the phone away, he bent down, his blue eyes directly in her face, and gave her a quick kiss. He repeated his question. “Chocolate or citrus?”

“Chocolate.”

As she rolled over and sat up, the swoosh and whisper of crisp bed linens spoke of a luxury she was not accustomed to. Cheap sheets didn’t make sounds like soft rustling leaves. She could get used to this. She dared not.

Although she still had her problems to contend with, she was sure the worst was over. When Grandpa got back, their little family would pick up the pieces and start over.

For now, she accepted ExBoy’s invitation to stay the night. Her affection for him elevated; she had a million questions about his past, his dreams, his goals.

Later, room service indeed arrived with a full spread, and after all the exertion, desperate clutching, and overdue orgasms, Madison was starved. The table being wheeled in brought its own excitement, and Madison was amazed at the luxurious feeling from the simple act of being fed right now.

The part that seemed to confuse ExBoy was the eagerness of the two waiters that brought the cart. They were all smiles and nods with him. They would have rubbed his feet if he had asked. She realized it was probably because of the giant tip she had signed for earlier when ExBoy had a drink sent to her out in the hallway. Word must have spread among the staff. A little payback seemed appropriate at the time, but now she bit her lip wondering what mischief ExBoy would arrange when he found out.

They sat around in leisure, enjoying hors d’oeuvres and wine, tender steaks, potatoes, and buttered zucchini. Madison took note of his appetite. Impressive. She knew she wouldn’t be able to eat everything on her plate, the serving sizes being so huge, but she was going to have fun trying.

She listened while he talked about the convention tomorrow. Normally, all this zombie silliness was not something she would have sought out on her own. But seeing it through his eyes, she began to appreciate the fun in it and listening to him in his excitement charmed her. He was animated and happy.

But when she tried to ask about his family, he clammed up.

After a moment he asked, “Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s normal to ask, I guess.” She was getting full and decided to save room for the chocolate dessert sampler. But one more bite of buttered zucchini first.

“I don’t think it should matter,” he said. “It’s not important.” He put his fork down.

“Well, true, it has nothing to do with how I feel about you, but you can’t say it’s not important.” She was a little surprised by his response but decided there were still plenty of other things to talk about. “Okay. Well, what about your art? Tell me about that.”

“What about it?”

“Well, it’s amazing! I had no idea you were that good. Did you study in art school or something?”

“No.”

She waited for him to expound but he didn’t, and he seemed content to let the silence sit there. “Where do you come up with all those ideas?” she asked. “How do you…”

“I don’t know,” he said quickly. “I just do.” Then in a lighter tone, he said, “Hey!” With some of his animation returning, he asked, “Do you mind if I get to work? I have some signs for the booth I want to make.”

Taken aback, she said, “Did I say something wrong?”

Picking up his fork again, he used the flat side to pat a piece of chocolate cheesecake on his plate, making tiny grooves with the prongs of the fork. He exhaled. “No.”

She stayed quiet hoping he would talk. ExBoy was something of an enigma to her since the beginning. “I don’t like talking about my family,” he said. “And I don’t like analyzing my art. I’d rather keep enjoying it without thinking about why or how. They don’t approve of it, and I don’t care.” He took a bite of the chocolate cheesecake. “Good enough?” he asked.

“Wow. That’s it, huh? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

He watched her as he ate the chocolate cheesecake, his face a stubborn mask.

She knew she wouldn’t get any more out of him.
She said. “I was just trying to get to know you more.”

“I know. That’s what gets to me about you. You want to see more.” He used the fork to skim off just the top layer of chocolate icing. “It freaks me out,” he said, aiming the icing at her lips. She opened her mouth and accepted the icing as he pulled out the fork, “and draws me in.”

She licked her bottom lip. “I know about family trouble.”

“I guess you do,” he said, and left it at that.

Later at his desk, ExBoy worked on one last sign for the booth. Madison watched him, warning herself he might be sexy as hell, but she’d probably never get much more than that. He talked like she was the one who kept putting the brakes on any relationship between them, but she didn’t buy that.

Meanwhile, she really did want to help him at his booth tomorrow. She had a few surprises lined up for him and one more phone call, this one to Sound Beating, should do it. She didn’t want him to hear her on the phone so she said, “I’m going downstairs to buy a few sundries. I’ll be right back.”

He looked up with a devilish gleam in his eye and said, “If you forget the key card, just take your clothes off. I promise I’ll get you in here fast this time.”