Boycotts and Barflies (35 page)

“What’s a guy supposed to do?”

As the events of the last few minutes began to sink in, Grace started giggling, unable to stop. She slid down the door laughing.

Ryan decided to throw in his snarky two cents. “Hey, I don’t want to criticize your technique, Mike, but I don’t think it’s normal for your lady to be laughing at you like that. You may want to try something different. She should be doing more moaning than laughing if you’re doing it right.”

“Shut it, Ryan. We aren’t doing anything,” Michael yelled at the door, then dropped his voice and added with a wink for Grace’s ears only, “anymore.” He leaned back against the counter top, pouting.

Grace got up and cautiously, walked over and gave him a kiss. “So close.”

She grinned and patted the palm of her hand against the side of his face.

“Better luck next time, lover boy.” Heading for the door, she paused with her hand on the knob. “And thanks for the shirt.” She pulled the collar up to her nose and took a deep breath. “Mmm, it still smells like you. Yummy,” she purred, rubbing the material against her body. As she walked out the door, she could hear Michael cursing, followed by the shower turning on.

“Hello, there.” Ryan leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and a huge grin on his face.

Stuck in the awkward moment with absolutely no defense, Grace fluffed her hair around her face to help hide her embarrassment. “Stop looking at me like that. Nothing happened.”

He eyed her suspiciously, but hearing the twinge of disappointment in her voice, he knew she was telling him the truth. “It’s not  me I’d be worried about explaining your wardrobe choice to.” He gave his thumb a point toward the doorway where Meg stood, silent but looking like she just might burst.

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“He better not be using up all the hot water. I n eed a shower.” Ryan tried to  change the subject, but Meg continued to stare at Grace with her mouth open. “Oh, you have nothing to worry about. There will still be plenty of warm water.  I’m pretty sure right now he’s got the water on the icy side.” Ryan laughed out  loud when they heard Michael’s yelp from the bathroom as he stepped into the  frigid shower.

Meg gave a sharp tug on Grace’s arm and pulled her out of their room, dragging  her across the hall. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“No,” Grace said, refusing to make eye contact with her. There was no way she  wanted to admit what just happened, or almost happened, in the bathroom  with Michael. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at the memory of  her legs wrapped around his waist and the enormous bulge … “I have no idea  what you’re talking about, Meg.”

“OK, let’s start with: Why are you in Michael’s shirt? What happened

to your shirt? Why are the buttons all done wrong? And why the hell is the  front of you all wet?” She sat silently next  to Grace on the bed, patiently waiting  for answers.

“I’m wearing his shirt because mine got wet, accidentally, so I borrowed his.” Meg raised her eyebrow at Grace, indicating she should continue her  explanation. Instead of clarifying, though, Grace kept on talking. “My shirt’s in

their Jacuzzi; I threw it at Michael.” She didn’t dare look Meg in the face. “As for  the buttons, I guess  he wasn’t paying attention.” Grace mumbled the “he” as  softly as she could, but Meg and her damn dog ears caught it anyway.

“He wasn’t paying attention? He? ” The shrill tone of her voice and the way her  foot began tapping wildly told Grace there would be  no quick dropping of this  topic. Meg wanted every last detail.

Grace tried to remain unaffected and stoic, but a goofy smile came across her  face before she could stop it. Her head bobbed up and down in answer to Meg’s  question.

“Eek!” Meg screamed as she  clapped her hands together. “Oh my God, you’ve  got to tell me everything.”

Taking a deep breath, Grace prepared to come clean. “The reason the front of  me is wet is … Oh, Meg, do I really have to tell you?” She was willing to beg,  bribe, and threaten her way out of it, but the stubborn set of Meg’s jaw told  Grace nothing would work. “OK, fine. So he may have gotten out of the tub  while I was in the bathroom, and he kind of started kissing my neck.”

“Oh my God, Grace! Was he naked?”

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Grace clamped her hand over Meg’s mouth to quiet her high - pitched shouting.  “Shh! They’re right across the hall. Stop screaming,” Grace hissed.

“Does the whole hotel have to know that Michael had me pressed up against the bathroom door while he  was naked and asked me to go to bed with him?” The words flew out of Grace’s mouth before she could stop them.

Meg’s eyes were enormous. With a warning look, Grace lowered her hand cautiously from Meg’s face and allowed her to speak. “Did you guys … did yo u

… are you out?” she asked quietly.

With obvious disappointment, Grace shook her head. “No, Ryan showed up just in time.” She sighed, half in relief, half in disappointment, and then muttered something about ‘perfect timing.’

Two arms wrapped around her.  “Oh, Grace, I’m sorry. If you want, Ryan and I can make ourselves scarce and you guys can pick up right where you left off.” “Am I out of the bet?” Grace asked, wondering if she had pushed the rules to the max with that little display in the bathroom.

Meg  looked at her suspiciously. “I’m not sure, since I wasn’t there. Do you think you should be out of the bet?”

“No, I don’t think so. There wasn’t a specific ‘no nudity’ clause in our boycott.”

Meg rolled her eyes at Grace. “Fine, but I didn’t see anything,  I swear! I didn’t peek, not once, even though, God, I wanted to.” She suddenly burst into laughter.

“Fine, if you say you’re still in, then you’re in. I believe you.”

“So what did you two do while I was being seduced? And why does it reek of nail polish in here?” Grace sniffed the pungent air around her.

Meg proudly threw out her pink fingers and toes. “Ryan painted my nails.

He did a really good job, don’t you think?”

Each nail was perfectly painted, smooth and even. Grace paused to admire his handiwork. “Did you scream for him?” she asked casually as she stood up from the bed, looking for the remote control.

“What?” Meg asked as her head snapped in Grace’s direction. “What are you talking about?”

“When Ryan walked into the bathroom and scared you, did you  scream?”

“Oh that, yep, I screamed,” she admitted sheepishly as she fidgeted with her fingers.

“I tried to warn him.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a ringing phone. Meg flipped around and grabbed hers off the nightstand. “Hello? Hi. Really?” She glanced over at  270

Grace and smirked. “Yeah, I think she could use one too. OK, give us a few

seconds and we’ll be ready.” She closed the phone and was on her feet, heading  for the closet. “Apparently, Ryan thinks Michael needs a drink after your ‘alone  time,’ so we’re all going to go down to the hotel bar. We need to hurry up.” “Meg, I have nothing to wear! Look at me.” Grace showed off the damp shirt  and jeans she was currently wearing. Her other shirt was in no better shape. Pausing to assess the situation, Meg looked at her with a critical eye then  smiled. “You are so lucky the shirt dress is back in style. Come on, let’s get you  ready. Michael will love this!” Laughing, she dragged Grace into the bathroom  and aimed the hairdryer directly at her chest to dry the oversized shirt. Next,  she rummaged through her bag and found a pair of black leggings that were  mostly Lycra, so Grace was able to wear them without difficulty, and a pair of  black patent leather heels. She finished the outfit off with a thick red belt that  she cinched high on Grace’s waist to help accentuate her chest.

Grace did a little  twirl so show off her handiwork. “Meg, you are simply  amazing.” She gave her friend a reverent bow.

“All in a day’s work. It was also the least I could do since it’s my fault your  clothes are buried under three and a half feet of snow in the car.” Meg smirked  as she pulled the red baby doll dress over her head and grabbed the white  sweater that was on top of her suitcase. There was a loud knock on the door. Meg skipped to the door and opened it. “Come on in!”

Ryan and Michael walked into the room, looking downright delicious.

Both opted for more casual clothes; Ryan in a form fitting brown crew neck  sweater that had cream- colored stripes down the center of his chest and dark  brown pants. Michael was wearing a black button down shirt with white  pinstripes and a pair of black jeans. If his clothes didn’t make him look sexy  enough, the smirk on his face sealed the deal.

“Would you like to explain why you opened the door without asking who it was  first?” Ryan interrogated Meg as she took one last look in the mirror.

“Because we knew you big, strong men were on your way over.” She gave his  chest a flirty tap and kissed his cheek. Ryan gave her a stern look but wisely  decided to drop the subject.

As Michael made his way over to Grace, she felt the blush rush into her cheeks  as his eyes raked over her body, admiring her outfit. “You have no idea how  lovely you look,” he whispered as Grace wrapped her arms around him.

“You really are irresistible in my clothes.”

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“You look pretty yummy yourself, even with clothes on.” The way his cheeks

turned pink made Grace laugh.

“About that, I’m sorry. That wasn’t very gentlemanly of me to do that to you

back in my bathroom. I don’t know what got into me. I promise, it won’t

happen again,” he said  as he stared intently at the carpet.

Grinning, Grace lifted his face so she could look him in the eye. “It most

definitely better happen again in, say, one hundred twenty-three hours?”

In the matter of a few seconds, the embarrassment in his face vanished  and

was replaced by a very sexy grin. “If you insist.” His lips came to hers as his

arms wrapped around her. Then he lowered his hands so they settled on her

rear, to which he gave a firm squeeze.

Across the room, Meg cleared her throat. “My offer still stands, Grace. We can

vanish,” she said with a giggle.

She gave Michael a tap on the chest and broke the kiss before things got out of

hand again. “Let’s go get a drink,” Grace said decidedly as she fanned her face,

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trying to make her flushed cheeks cool down. Hand in hand, they headed out  the door behind Meg and Ryan.

The hotel bar was packed. All the people who had been trapped by the snow  filled the room, looking for a way to pass the time until the snow passed and  they could return to the roads. Ryan found a small semi - circle shaped booth  they could sit at. Grace and Meg slid into the middle, with Michael and Ryan on  the ends. They started flipping through the drink menu when the waitress  came over to the table looking slightly frazzled.

“Hi, my name is Tiffany. Can I get you something from the bar? We’re running  low on scotch, so if that’s your drink of choice, speak now or forever hold your  peace.” She glanced over her shoulder at the bartender, who was filling drink  orders at a fevered pace.

Michael leaned his head toward the waitress and whispered something in her  ear that made her smile.

What the hell?

Meg smacked Grace’s leg and questioned her with her eyes. Not having a clue what they might be chatting about, Grace shrugged her shoulders, trying not to be jealous of the fact that Michael was inches away from this Tiffany chick, having a private conversation.

When she giggled, Grace kicked him—hard—on the shin under the table.

He winced, but made sure he finished chatting with Tiffany before he turned

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away. “Ouch!” he said, rubbing his leg while his new friend scurried away from  the table. “Sweetheart, are you jealous?”

Childishly, Grace glared at him and moved as far away from him as possible in  their cramped space. Before she could tell him off, that floozy Tiffany was back,  whispering something to Michael that made him leave the table. As he turned  his back to walk away, the sound of Grace’s hand slamming into the table top  made him pause, turn back, and grin. “Relax. I’ll be right back.” Without  another word, he wandered off with the hussy whose name Grace had  forgotten.

She decided she would refer to her as “the slut.”

“What the hell is he doing?” Meg hissed in Grace’s ear.

“I have no idea, but I may need your help burying a body later.”

“Hers or his?” Meg asked as she shook her head from side to side, watching the

pair saunter over to the bar.

Overhearing everything, Ryan snorted with laughter.

“What the hell is he doing?” Grace threw up her hands in disgust.

Grace watched Michael as he shook the bartender’s hand and had a quick  conversation with him. The bartender slapped him on the shoulder, and the  next thing Grace knew, Michael had gotten behind the bar and set four glasses  in front of him. Ryan decided he wanted to get in to the action and left the table  to join Michael, the bartender, and the slut.

“Where do you think we could find a shovel?” Meg growled as her eyes shot  laser beams into the back of Ryan’s head.

The slut put her hand on Ryan’s back, her trampy red fingernails rubbing  across his back. Grace had to hold Meg in place since she was ready to climb  over the table and rip the girl’s head off.

Ryan stepped behind the bar and took two of the glasses from Michael, filling  them with ice and two different clear liquids, and finishing them off with a lime  wedge in each.

While he did that, Michael was measuring and mixing multiple ingredients as  the bartender and the slut watched his every move.

“If I wasn’t so mad at them right now, I’d mention how hot they look when  they’re behind the bar like that, but since I’m pissed … Oh hell, they’re hot. There’s no denying it.” Grace rested her face in her hand in frustration.

Meg let out a small sigh, seconding the opinion. Grace watched Michael pour an  orange concoction into the two glasses; then he reached for a third from under  the bar, where he poured the remainder of the contents from his shaker.

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He offered the third glass to the slut, who tasted it and smiled. Then he offered the cup to the bartender, who laughed and downed the rest of the drink. He gave Michael a slap on the back, and the two men started back toward the table with four drinks in hand.

Annoyed beyond words, neither woman made any attempt to hide their irritation. Grace sat back into the booth, her arms tightly folded across her chest, an undeniable scowl on her face. Meg dug into her purse and pulled out a compact which she used to fix her hair and makeup while completely ignoring  Ryan as he sat down beside her.

“I made something,” Michael said as he sat down.

Grace narrowed her eyes at him. “A new friend?” she snapped as she glared over at the slut, thinking up a hundred different ways to make her bleed. Michael laughed when he realized she was staring at Tiffany. “No, sweetheart, I made you and Meg a drink. The bartender didn’t know how to make it, so I

showed him.” He slid a glass in front of both of the girls. Then his hand slid off  the table discretely and found its way to Grace’s upper thigh, causing her to  blush as his fingers played with the hem of his shirt. “Taste it,” he whispered,  anxiously awaiting their opinions.

The girls exchanged a suspicious glance and then Meg stared at the glass on the  table. Very dramatically, she rolled her eyes, put the compact away, and raised  the drink to her lips.

Grace followed suit, realizing she needed a drink pretty badly when she felt  Michael’s hand snake up under the bottom hem of the shirtdress she was  wearing and continue higher up her thigh. She took a big swig of the drink and  was surprised by how good it tasted.

The glass appeared to have orange juice, cranberry juice, and something red,  maybe strawberry, in it. It was cold and sweet, and  it tasted so good, Grace  drank some more. Meg had sucked down half of hers before turning to Ryan  and asking if there was alcohol in it. He just laughed and nodded his head yes. Licking her lips, Grace said, “This is real y good. I definitely want more of it.” Michael and Ryan laughed out loud.

“What is this?” Grace took another sip, trying to figure out the remaining  ingredients. She could definitely taste the alcohol. Whatever it was, Michael

had made them really strong, she knew that much. Grace couldn’t imagine how  Meg had missed the alcohol in it.

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Michael couldn’t help but grin. “I’m real y glad you like it. The drink is cal ed ‘Screaming  Sex with the Bartender.’” That sexy twinkle was back in his eyes as his finger grazed the edge of Grace’s underwear, making her jump at his touch. To stop Michael’s undercover explorations, Grace clamped her hand down on top of his and pushed it toward her knee. “Well, it is very good, but it’s a lot to live up to,” Grace said as she raised her glass to her lips for another desperate sip.

Meg’s glass was empty and she was already in Ryan’s lap, whispering in his ear before the second drink hit the table. Th e alcohol was starting to do its job.

The grin of masculine satisfaction on Ryan’s face was priceless.

With everyone’s inhibitions fading, Michael saw his opportunity and took it.

He bent his head and started whispering to Grace. “Don’t forget I have amazing skills in certain areas. I don’t think I’ll have any problems making you scream if  I put my mind to it, Grace.”

As if her heart wasn’t already flying in her chest, that comment kicked it into overdrive. She felt Michael’s hand moving along her leg again, making her mind race back to that bathroom and the feel of his wet body against hers when he’d had her pressed against the door. What she wouldn’t give to go back upstairs and pick things up where they left off.

“Ladies, the gentleman in red sends you these drinks with his regards.” The slut, Tiffany, pointed toward the door, where they caught a glimpse of Mark before he dashed into the crowd.

Michael and Ryan began swearing as they tasted the drinks that Mark had sent over, slamming the glasses onto the  table.

“Orgasms?” Ryan hissed. “He sent you orgasms? When I find that little  ”—

Ryan was on his feet until Meg put her hand on his arm, pulling him back into the booth.

“The guy has a slight crush. Let it go. I like the screaming sex with the bartender much better than a boring old orgasm anyway.” Her loud, flirty giggle got his attention, and he relaxed back into his seat.

Michael, however, still looked ready to kill. “Michael, come on, he’s a kid.

Leave it at that. Nothing to be worried about.” Grace tried to settle him by running her hands down his arm.

“I’m not at all worried; I’m just going to strangle the little twerp the next time I see him.”

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An hour later, they left the bar. Meg was completely drunk, and Grace was definitely tipsy. Michael had made another round of “screaming sex,” and they were so tasty they didn’t last long at the table.

When they arrived back at the rooms, the girls needed to take a nap and sleep off the alcohol. Michael said he’d come get them around eight-thirty so they could go to dinner. He scooped a wobbling Grace up into his arms and carried her to the bed so she wouldn’t fall and hurt herself. Ryan did the same to Meg.

Then they tucked the girls in, gave them a quick kiss on the head, and qu ietly headed back out the door.

“They really are dreamy, aren’t they?” Meg sighed from her side of the bed.

“Yeah, we got pretty lucky, didn’t we?” Grace tried to close her eyes to sleep, but every time she did, she saw Michael, wet and glistening in the bathroom.

Her eyes flew open and instead of sleeping, she found herself staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Meg was tapping her foot anxiously beside her. “We aren’t going to get any sleep, are we?”

Grace laughed and sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. “What should we do instead?”

Meg scooted out from under the covers and grabbed the remote off the nightstand. “Let’s find a movie. That should kill some time until they come back.” She started flipping the channels in search of the pay per view movies. They were trying to decide between a horror movie and a comedy when there was a loud knock on the door.

Meg squealed and flopped off the bed, still a bit drunk. “It’s Ryan! I knew he couldn’t stay away for too long.” She took off toward the door, and as she threw it open, she said, “Hey, sailor, come here often?” in her best, husky voice.

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Chapter 22

G race laughed at Meg’s flirting until she heard a man’s voice—one that most definitely wasn’t Ryan’s or Michael’s.

“Hey, there, little lady. You going to invite me in?” Mark’s gruff voice was unmistakable. Grace could hear Meg stammering, her head too foggy from the alcohol to come up with a quick comeback.

Grace scooted to the end of the bed  and looked toward the door to find Mark

already standing inside the doorway while Meg was leaning against the wall,  trying to block his path with her body. He took another step into the room, and  Grace’s survival instincts took over. She leaned across the  bed, grabbed Meg’s

phone, and called Ryan.

“Hey, baby …” he answered.

“Ryan, get over here now! That Mark guy is—” She didn’t get to finish before

the phone clunked to the ground on his end and she heard Ryan yell at Michael

to get his ass out of bed, followed by a nasty string of profanity.

Grace closed the phone and tucked it under her leg just in case she needed it

again. She peeked over to see what Mark was doing. He had moved closer to

Meg, who was nervously looking back over her shoulder at Grace for  help,

using her blond hair as a shield between her and Mark. Grace held up the cell

phone, and she saw Meg sigh in relief.

Not even a second later, the door across the hall flew open, and in the blink of

an eye Ryan had pushed his way past Mark, swept Meg  up into his arms and

carried her over his shoulder back to his room.

Instead of a hasty retreat, Michael barreled inside and held Mark by the shoulder against the wall. He looked Grace in the eyes, pointed his finger at her, and said in a lethal voice, “Don’t move an inch.”

Numbly, she nodded her head and sat back on the bed.

Michael barked “In the hall!” to Mark and dragged him out the door.

Grace waited until she heard the door slam shut to leap out of bed and press her ear to the door, not wanting to miss a second of the conversation between the two men.

Out in the hall, she could hear Ryan asking Mark what he thought he was doing while Michael paced back and forth on the phone. Grace guessed from his tone that he was talking with the front desk, insisting they send a manager up to their floor immediately to deal with Mark before they did. Ryan was cursing at  Mark and threatening to wipe the smirk off his face.

As the shouting continued, Grace decided to call across the hall .

“Hello?” Meg said.

“Are you listening to this?” Grace whispered as she peered out the peephole, trying to see their faces.

“Of course, but I can’t see them out the peephole, can you?”

“No, not anymore … Oh, there’s another voice! That must be the manager.” Straining her ears, Grace heard Michael insist that Mark stay away from their girlfriends and their rooms.