Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I know the dark-haired hottie isn’t in the crowd, because lethal good looks like his would be impossible to miss.
How is it possible for someone to be that attractive?
When he’d turned on the lights, I had to slam my mouth closed to avoid drooling all over the hotel room carpet. He had the kind of looks you only see on male models these days—cobalt blue eyes, straight white teeth, dimples that melt your insides. But with a bit of an edge, which was highlighted by the tattoos on his biceps and chest, and the way his scruffy brown hair curled under his ears. He had bad boy written all over him. It was hot. And tempting. And thank God I got out of there.
Who knows what I would’ve done if I’d stayed even a second longer.
Probably fucked his brains out.
“Excuse me, coming through,” I call as I weave through the same group of teenagers I passed on the way to the hotel.
“Hey, baby, what’s the rush?” one of the baggy-clothed kids asks with a laugh.
I ignore the kids and push forward, my high heels clicking against the sidewalk. People keep getting in my damn way, slowing me down. All I want is to get to my building and pretend this whole hotel fiasco hadn’t happened.
Why wasn’t Tony there?
The question makes me stop in my tracks. For the past five minutes I’ve been beating myself over the head for winding up in a stranger’s room, but there’s no way I got the room number wrong. I wrote it on my hand.
Furrowing my brows, I flip over my hand and stare at the three digits I scribbled on my palm. It’s right there—312. The ink is starting to smear, but there’s no mistaking the room number. I got it right, which means that Tony—that jerk—is to blame for this entire mess.
Why hadn’t he shown up? He would’ve called if the plan had changed, wouldn’t he?
I reach into my purse and rummage around for my phone. I pull it out, and then groan. It’s still on silent. I forgot to turn the ringer back on after my shift.
Five seconds later, I access my voice mail and, sure enough, hear Tony’s voice.
“Hey, Mags, it’s me. Listen, I’ve got some bad news. We had to make an emergency landing in Tallahassee. Some freak hurricane just swept in and the airline is delaying all the flights. I won’t be able to get a flight out until tomorrow morning, but we’re shit out of luck, babe. I have a meeting with a publisher in the afternoon and then I’m flying out to Bora Bora at five. Looks like we’ll see each other next time I’m in town. Probably the end of August. Say hi to the folks at the Olive for me.”
I hang up the phone and grit my teeth. Say hi to the folks at the Olive for me?
Anger swirls in my stomach, but deep down I know I can’t blame Tony for what happened. He doesn’t control the weather or the airlines, and it’s not his fault that a delay I hadn’t known about sent me into bed with another man.
Hell, I have nobody to blame but myself. Why on earth didn’t I turn on the light when I walked in, instead of hopping into the bed and giving a stranger a handjob?
I’m the moron, not Tony.
I take a few calming breaths. It’s not a big deal, right? Just a case of mistaken identity. It’s not like I’m ever going to see my blue-eyed bad boy again. Well, unless he decides to show up for that free drink I offered, but how likely is that? The man probably thinks I’m a nutcase.
Which would be a very astute assumption on his part.
Unable to stop it, a giggle tears out of my throat. It’s a hysterical one, sure, but at least I’m able to find some amusement in the situation. The memory of the man’s bewildered eyes as he lay on the bed with an impressive erection flashes across my brain, turning the giggle into a full-out laugh.
I resume the walk home, my humiliation fading at each click of my heels. Okay, so I molested a man whose name I don’t even know. Big deal. He’d liked it. I liked it too. Nobody was harmed. And we’ll probably never cross paths again, so really, what harm had been done?
By the time I reach my building, my nerves have started to calm. I use my key to get into the lobby, then step inside and greet the security guard behind the desk. Considering the building is less than a dozen blocks from Central Park, the rent should have been astronomical. When I moved here from Albany, I thought I’d never be able to find a decent place that wouldn’t drain my savings account, but on my very first day in Manhattan I hit the jackpot.