Taking a bracing breath, she padded into the sitting room, her bare feet silent on the thick carpet. Trent stood with his rigid back to her, staring out the window. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His thick hair was still rumpled, presumably by her fingers.
He didn’t look like a guy who’d just had the best sex in well…ever. But then he was probably more experienced than her. Maybe it hadn’t been as amazing for him.
She gulped and gathered her courage. “The bathroom’s all yours.”
He looked so James Bond suave as he turned that he took her breath away. His gaze raked from her finger-combed hair to the toes she’d curled into the carpet. Funny, she’d shared her body with him, but she hadn’t felt comfortable borrowing his comb. Twisted, Paige.
“I’ve ordered dinner from room service.” His cool demeanor suggested it wasn’t because he wanted to keep her in bed all night. A sense of foreboding crept up her spine. She shivered—not in a good way.
“Trent? Is something wrong?” Oh God, she was going to have to use the lame line. Well, here goes nothing. “Wasn’t it good for you?”
He downed the rest of his drink in one gulp and set the tumbler on the nearby dining-room table. “Yes, it was good. But it was a mistake.”
The firm statement sent her mentally reeling. “Why? Why was making love a mistake?”
His lips—the same lips that had driven her to unbelievable passion moments ago—flattened into a straight line. “It wasn’t making love. It was sex.”
She barely managed not to wince. But what he said was true. Amazing or not, what they’d share had been only sex. Not fate or love or any of that other romantic junk. “Semantics.”
His scowl deepened. “How long were you with your last lover?”
Not a conversation she wanted to have. She fussed the tie belt of her robe. “Does it matter?”
“Answer the question.”
He wasn’t going to like her answer even if it wasn’t relevant to what they’d just shared. “Seven years.”
“That’s what I thought. Paige, I can’t be the man you need.”
If she didn’t have her pride to cling to, this would be a good time to run. She dug deep for a little of her big sister’s chutzpah. “That’s where you’re wrong, Trent. You were exactly what I needed a few minutes ago. A guy who’s fun to be with and good in bed.”
“I can’t offer you anything more than—” his gesture encompassed the room “—this. Despite what you said, I don’t see you as the casual-affair type.”
“Then you’d be wrong.” Casual was exactly the type the new Paige intended to be. She had to find a way to convince him of that. “I love my job and I won’t give it up for a man—any man. And you’ll be leaving in what…three or four days?”
“Five.”
“Then I suggest we make the most of those days…and nights.”
His silence as his searching gaze held hers spoke volumes. She tried to blank her expression.
“Am I going to lose my roller coaster riding partner over this?”
“No. If room service arrives while I’m in the shower, the tip is on the table. The rest will be billed to the room.” He turned on his heel and disappeared through the bedroom door. Seconds later she heard the shower spray.
Her bravado drained away. She’d gotten the walk on the wild side that she’d wanted.
So why wasn’t she happy?
What a damned wuss.
Trent scrubbed hard enough to make his scalp tingle. He hired and fired employees on a regular basis without a twinge of remorse. But the hurt in Paige’s eyes when he’d left her in bed had speared him.
While sleeping with her and dumping her immediately thereafter might piss her off enough to make her steer clear of him and Brent, it wouldn’t stop her from hooking up with Donnie. And an angry, vengeful woman was exactly the scenario he wanted to avoid. That left Trent at an impasse.
The flashing message light on the telephone extension in the bathroom nagged him as he sawed the towel over his back with enough vigor to redden his skin. He closed the bathroom door, lifted the receiver and punched the buttons to play his messages.
“Hi Trent. Nicole here. Your girlfriend’s—” he grimaced “—family has reservations about hopping on a private jet and flying cross country. So…my report is that I have nothing to report. I’ll call back when and if the status changes.” Click.
That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He checked the clock on the wall and calculated the time difference. Nicole should still be awake. He dialed her home number.
“Hello, Trent,” she answered. Caller ID was a blessing and a curse. At least she’d decided to talk to him—unlike his brother, who was still dodging calls.
“What do you mean the McCauleys are reluctant? I’m offering them a free vacation, and HAMC has the highest safety rating in aviation.”
She laughed. “You know that old adage, ‘When something sounds too good to be true it usually is?’ Apparently the McCauleys are firm believers. They want to research HAMC and our safety rating before loading their precious daughters onto a stranger’s plane. Now that I’m going to be a mom, I can’t say I blame them. I’d do the same with my baby.”
Frustration tightened his muscles and made his stomach burn. “Nicole, fix this.”
“Trent, I’m trying,” she replied in the same impatient tone. She’d been doling out a lot more sass since marrying the father of her kid. But Ryan was a good guy, and he made Nicole happy, so Trent let her get away with mouthing off. This time.
“We’re on a tight schedule here,” he reminded her.
“Don’t I know it? You’ve asked—no, ordered me to work a miracle, Trent. Like I said in my earlier message, I’ll call when I know something. Good night.” The line went dead.
He stared at the phone. His sister had hung up on him. A first. He cradled the receiver and scraped a hand over his face, searching for a quick solution. His brain echoed like an empty hangar. No ideas taxied around.
He’d have to keep Paige on a string for a little longer—at least until he was certain her family would arrive to distract her.
As if keeping her around will be a hardship.
No, it wouldn’t. If it weren’t for walking on eggshells and fearing he’d misspeak, he enjoyed her company. And she was damned good in bed. Not that ending up there with her again would be wise. The more involved they became the more extreme her reaction to his leaving could be come…unless what she said about wanting a temporary lover was true. He still had his doubts about that.
He opened the door and exited in a wave of steam. The bedroom was empty, and Paige’s clothes were where he’d left them on the bed, meaning she hadn’t left and hadn’t taken his hint to get dressed while he showered. His mixed feelings over the discovery confused him. He wanted her gone. And yet he didn’t.
But he wasn’t going to traipse around in his robe. No point in testing his will to resist her unnecessarily. He yanked on jeans and a T-shirt. The new clothes were yet another reminder that instead of satisfying his personal desires he should be making connections downstairs, viewing vendor products and cutting deals for state-of-the-art electronics.
He needed a Plan C. If Paige’s family refused to fly out, he’d have to find an alternative to getting Paige out of the way before Brent arrived. Short of kidnapping the woman, he had no viable schemes. He’d have to take another shot at convincing her to fly home.
He returned to the living area and found Paige wedged into the corner cushions of the sofa with her legs crossed and one of the glossy hotel-provided magazines in her lap. A large room-service tray sat on the coffee table in front of her.
“Dinner’s here,” she said unnecessarily and set her reading material aside.
His stomach rumbled, surprising him with an appetite that circumstances should have robbed. “Let’s eat.”
She leaned forward to lift a stainless-steel cover from one of the plates. Her robe gaped, baring the curve of one breast. He could almost see her nipple. His pulse quickened and the urge to tuck his hand into her cl**vage and cup her satiny flesh had him fisting his hands.
She scooted forward to lift another lid. The hem of her robe snagged between the seat cushions, flashing enough of her thigh and hip to let him know she wasn’t wearing panties. Then she snatched the fabric free and blocked his view.
He wasn’t disappointed.
Hell, yes, you are.
All right. Yes. Paige had a great body. Curvy, but toned. Any man would enjoy admiring her.
He searched her face, looking for any sign that she might be deliberately teasing him, but she seemed completely unaware that her actions had caused his blood to drain to his groin. She continued removing and stacking the domes without once glancing his way.
Then it hit him that part of Paige’s allure rested in the fact that she didn’t work at being sexy. It happened naturally. There was something about the way she moved. Confident. Sure. But easy at the same time, as if she were very comfortable in her skin. And then there was the way she threw herself into the roller coaster rides, lustily enjoying every second from start to finish. He’d been the same once upon a time.
His gaze returned to her pale cl**vage. How could he concentrate on food with her br**sts on display? He shifted to ease the tightening of his jeans. “Wouldn’t you prefer to eat at the dining-room table?”
“Too stuffy. You ordered a lot of food. There are four dinners, three appetizers and two bottles of wine, plus a hunk of chocolate cake.”
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
“Any of it.” She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes glinting with challenge. “But I have news for you, Hightower, you will share the cake.”
She dipped her finger into the frosting and carried it to her mouth to lick off the smudge. Again, it seemed to be a completely natural move, not one designed to seduce him. But deliberate or not, his libido and blood pressure spiked and his throat closed up.
That’s when he realized the only way he wouldn’t take Paige back to bed tonight was if he quit breathing.
But the affair in Vegas was all he’d allow himself. When he boarded the jet for Knoxville he’d leave Paige behind.
Paige closed her eyes and tried to hold back a moan of delight as the fat-laden, calorie-loaded dessert sent her taste buds into orgasmic bliss. The rich, moist, four-layer chocolate, coconut and walnut cake lived up to its name of Chocolate Ecstasy.
“Why didn’t you go to Manhattan with the boyfriend?” Trent’s question shattered her blissful moment.
She swallowed, choked, coughed, wheezed, then grabbed her glass of wine and tried to wash down the crumb stuck in her throat. When she finally caught her breath she met Trent’s gaze.
“I told you. Job opportunities. His there. Mine here.”
“There are hotels in New York City. I’ve stayed at a few.” His tongue-in-cheek tone didn’t lessen the sting. “You could have worked there.”