Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“Sienna Donahue. I’m here for the wedding as well, with my fiancé.”
“Good to meet you,” he said kindly, then looked at Damien. “And when will your wedding be?”
“Oh, um, we haven’t—there’s no date set yet.”
Ashford nodded. “Well, congratulations on the engagement.”
“Thank you,” Damien said, glancing from Ashford to me and back. “How long have you and Cooper been together?”
“Not long,” he replied. “But you know when it’s right, sometimes in an instant. Don’t you agree?”
“I—yes.”
I noticed that not only did they not hug, they didn’t even shake hands.
“All right, then,” Ashford said, looking at me. “Shall we go up to the suite? I’m sorry you were down here waiting for me. You could have gone to the desk and gotten the keys. I left them in your name.”
“I think you forgot to mention that,” I told him as he let go of my hand so I could pick up my stuff. “And I was not standing in that line.”
“I don’t blame you,” he agreed, looking at the people standing and not moving. “Let me help you with this.”
“Where’s all your stuff?”
“In our suite. That’s what you tip people lavishly to do for you.”
“Of course it is,” I teased him, and he immediately took hold of my hand again, which he could do, since it was free, as he’d hooked his duffel over my rolling suitcase when he took it from me.
“Come on,” he said, tugging gently to get me moving.
“It was really nice to meet you,” I said to Sienna.
“And you,” she said, speaking to me even as her eyes kept moving to Ashford. “I hope we’ll be able to have a meal together while you’re here.”
“Me too,” I replied, not looking at Damien, instead letting the actor I was there to protect guide me through the lobby to the elevator bay.
Several people called his name, and once we were on with two other couples and the doors closed, a woman turned to him.
“I loved you in Blood Tracks. I never missed an episode.”
“Thank you so much,” he said kindly.
Blood Tracks, a dark, violent, gritty, and sexually twisted police procedural, had been on HBO for six years and had been his start in Hollywood.
“I was going to marry Detective Mark Porter,” she told him.
He chuckled. “Shall we take a picture?”
“Oh yes, please,” she gushed, and everyone laughed.
He ended up snapping photos with all of them, and when they got off the elevator, they all turned and waved. It was actually really nice. They all genuinely appreciated that he took the time to interact with them.
Surprisingly, once we were moving again, he retook my hand. Funny that in an elevator, with no one else around to see, he still wanted to do that.
“Is this okay?” he asked me when the door opened.
“I took yours first, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“And I love holding hands. I just haven’t had anyone to do it with in ages.”
“Is that right?” He glanced at me as we began walking down the hall together.
“Yeah, the last guy I was with was not into public displays of affection.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “And I was too stupid to understand what that meant at the time.”
He nodded. “You missed that he was hiding the relationship.”
“I did,” I said, confessing my stupidity. “Having a boyfriend was not part of his plan.”
“When did you part ways?”
“More than a year ago.”
“That’s good,” he said with a grin. “But be honest—do you have any lingering feelings for him?”
“I do not,” I assured him.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
“Why thank God?” I asked as we reached the end of the long hallway and stopped in front of red damask double doors edged in white.
“Because I would like to know you much better, and if you’re hung up on someone else, I would make sure to keep things between us purely business.”
“I see. So you’re looking to get laid while you’re here for your niece’s wedding.”
It was fun to watch his mouth open, close, then open again.
“You can be honest. It’s always the best way to be.”
Quick inhale of breath. “When I received the information about you with your photo attached, I immediately hoped that you were both single and gay.”
“Or bi.”
“Yes,” he agreed, sliding the key into the door, then holding it open for me.
Once I was inside, he released the door and walked me down a short hall that had a bathroom on the right. The hallway opened up into a spacious sitting area with a gas fireplace on the left and a comfy-looking sectional and coffee table on the right. Farther in was a U-shaped breakfast nook with a butcher-block table, and then on the left, a farmhouse-style dining-room table with four heavy wooden chairs and a wrought-iron chandelier hanging above it. There was a small kitchen with a bar and two high stools, and a sliding glass door opened out onto a balcony.