"I think I'm okay with the drink." Stop it, he scolded himself, flirting with a bartender is fine for some people, but the last thing on earth I need is a scandal. That thought made his lips thin down to a fine line.
He stared into his drink, thinking of Laura Dale, his fiancée. Laura was a tall thin blonde with elegant features and long slender hands that danced gracefully across the keys of pianos. She had long legs and narrow feet that had been trained to dance, impeccable manners and dressed in a sedate but stylish manner. She knew how to run an enormous home, was an active socialite whose family had not just a name but money. In other words, she was perfect for the position of his wife.
Matt liked Laura, on some levels, but she was as cold as the stone walls of her family's country estate. He wanted to believe that was due to her having been groomed to marry a prince, which included her need to be a virgin. Somehow he doubted that was the issue though. She was always aloof and distant, once at a dinner party he had put his hand on her knee and she had sat up straighter, given him a look that told him in no uncertain terms his touch was unwelcome and turned away to carry on a conversation with someone else at the table.
He knew there was no getting out of the nuptials. He was in his thirties and the sole heir to the kingdom. Laura was the daughter of a duke and the news had already gone out. The entire kingdom was celebrating the engagement and what was more, his people needed something to celebrate. The economy had finally taken a major turn for the better, jobs had become plentiful again and now a royal wedding was looming on the horizon, it was perfect timing.
He took a long swallow of the whisky, letting it burn a warm trail into his belly. "I could just walk away," he thought, "Drive off to some tiny town in Florida where it's always warm and grow a lime orchard or something."
"Do you know anything about lime trees?"
"No. Limes stave off scurvy though." Rachel's face burned red. Scurvy? Really?
"Good to know."
Embarrassed she turned around, busying herself with bottles and glasses and putting away small mixing utensils. "I guess a lime orchard is out then."
She turned back around. "I'm sorry?"
"It was just a passing thought."
"We close in fifteen minutes Sir, would you like another drink?"
His eyes went to the clock, he had come down after eleven and it was almost two thirty. He had no idea of where the time had gone. Upstairs his bodyguards slept on, unaware that he had escaped them through the adjoining penthouse and from there down to the bar. The very fact that he had to resort to the ruse angered him. He needed solitude at times, it was part of his makeup and the constant crush of people around him often irritated him. As a youngster he had often taken off on long walks, hiding out under the hedges in the maze on the palace grounds. He had snuck away from his private and rule bound boarding schools, once managing to spend an entire day walking on a stretch of gorgeously desolate shoreline for nine hours before being found. By then the guards knew that the notes he left behind declaring he would never return were indeed written by him and not clever fiends and so they rarely alerted the palace or his parents, instead they simply tracked him down and dragged him back, often kicking and screaming.
Several years before he had made a huge fortune in the computer software industry and had become very well known, his face had been plastered on countless advertisements all over the country and many outside of it. Not to mention he was royalty. Just to have a simple drink in a hotel bar and go for a long walk after dark required subterfuge. Weariness seeped in at that thought.
Rachel snuck a peek at his handsome face again in the mirror. She hated to see him leave, and not just because he had been such a pleasant and sweet patron, but because he was so handsome. The brief flirtation he had engaged in had left her feeling breathless and while he had been staring into the depths of his drinks she had been lost in a daydream of her own, one that had included some rather kinky delights.
Kinky, she scoffed, as she washed a glass and waited for him to finish writing in the check. Like I would know anything about kinky sex, it's been six months since I even had a date. She stared bleakly at the heavy bottomed crystal decanter in her hands, thinking of her ex –fiancé Kyle and how he had dumped her months before their wedding and for no reason except he had decided he wanted to move to California and learn to surf, of all things.
That had hurt her badly. She had been focused on school and work and she had not noticed that her boyfriend had been busy dating most of her friends behind her back. He had also run up most of her credit cards, part of the reason having a second job had become necessary.
The day he had left he had stood in the tiny little bedroom of the apartment they shared, stuffing his clothes into a duffel bags and a battered suitcase, his lean body shown off in a pair of jeans that hung low on his narrow h*ps and his bleached and highlighted blonde hair fashionably messy. "You don't understand," he had said as he shoved dingy socks into the bag, "It's not you and it's not me. It's this city man. I was born in the wrong place. I was born on the wrong side of the ocean. I need sunshine and surf I can ride or I will never be happy. It's not being able to surf, that's what it is. It isn't you, see?"
"You've never even seen a surfboard up close!" Anger and frustration had lashed out of her, "What the hell do you mean you need to surf in order to be happy?"
"You'll never get it. Okay, that's cool. I've decided to take on this whole adventure, live life to the fullest sorta thing, and you are still stuck here in this plane of...'
"Oh go f**k yourself and your 'adventure', too!" Rachel had yelled.
Matt watched her face. She had something about her, a sort of vulnerability, which made her even more beautiful. She looked up and caught him staring at her and a thin red flush slid up her cheeks, looking so much like the crimson tide that occurred during orgasm that all he could do was stare at it transfixed.
"I can take that if you're ready." Her mouth was dry. The expression on his face sent heated tingles into her belly. She held out one hand for the thin black leather cover that he had placed the signed check in and their fingers touched for a small moment. Electricity shot through her, ashamed of that reaction she yanked away in an awkward and hasty gesture that ripped the check from his hand.
"Sorry! I didn't mean to grab it, I...I..." The stutter she sometimes faced when nervous tried to surface, she shoved it back down. "I apologize if I seemed rude, Sir."
"You regain your aplomb almost miraculously. That's a compliment."
She nodded. He picked up his coat off of the back of the chair and stood there for a moment, staring at her face. Regret brushed him but he shoved it away. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight Sir and thank you."
He inclined his head and then asked, "Is there another entrance? I need to get out without being seen."
She didn't seem to find the question odd, "Of course. All of our guests who require discretion are allowed access to the tunnel entrance that leads...'
"No, not that one. I need one that nobody will see me use."
"Are you in trouble?" She asked before she could check her thoughts from becoming words.
To her relief he laughed. "No but sometimes my life forces me to behave as though I'm on the run, if I'm going to have any freedom at all."
"The staff entrance is through that door and down the hallway." She paused. "I could get fired..."
"Only if someone tells them that you told me. The secret is safe with me."
He tossed his coat across his shoulders and ran his hands down the front of his body to straighten his clothes in a gesture so utterly erotic her heart squeezed and her crotch ached. The response was primal and frightening, she tried to ignore it but she couldn't, her panties were literally damp with arousal.
"Have a good night," he said and vanished through the staff door.
"You too," she said to the empty bar. You are an idiot, a horny idiot, she scolded herself. She scanned the check, his tip was incredibly generous and his signature a barely legible scrawl. Thankfully she could read the room number clearly enough. She put the total into the computer, shut everything down and made one last sweep of the bar to set things to rights.
She had closed the heavy oak doors and locked them, put on her coat and picked up her purse when she heard the banging at the doors. Walking toward them she heard June screaming that room service would not make her a Mojito and she wanted one right then or someone was going to suffer.
Rachel backed away slowly. She had already clocked out and if she left before the damned woman could make too much of a fuss one of the other employees would have to give her the bad news that she was out of luck that night.
Feeling foolish and a little naughty she tiptoed away from the door. Heavy thuds landed on it and June's howls got louder. Rachel had to press both hands up to her mouth to stifle the hysterical laughter that threatened to burst from her.
"I want a Mojito! I want a Mojito!" The chant broke off abruptly. Just when Rachel was certain the woman had given up a flurry of what could only have been kicks landed on the door. She crept backwards, her eyes widening as the manager's soothing voice began. She couldn't hear the words but she could imagine the scene.
"I know they have it!" June screamed
Afraid the manager might actually open the door and make her the drink himself Rachel dashed across the bar and out the door that led to the outside entrance. Cold night air hit her in the face and she shivered as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and buttoned her coat before walking out to the bus stop.
Matt felt immensely better. The cold air had revived him and the long walk had felt good. He knew the city well enough not to stray off into any alleys or small side streets. Even at that time of night the street that ran in front of the Adams was packed with theatregoers who had stopped for a meal or coffee, night clubbers trying to hail clubs and giddy tourists. Headlights splashed across the buildings and the gaudy neon signs lit up the night so brightly he could see for blocks.
He saw her standing in the clear cube of a bus stop and paused. Her coat was red wool pea coat that showed off her neat waist and wonderfully high and curvy ass. Her hands were clasped under her chin in a gesture so close to prayer he had to smile.
"Hello," he ducked into the bus stop with her. "Cold night isn't it?"
He was so damnably attractive. This close she could smell his cologne, it was rich and slightly bitter, utterly masculine and warm. His well-cut coat was a Brooks Brothers trench and his shoes were Italian leather. She took all of those things in at a glance.
"Yes it is."
A small and uncomfortable silence fell. Matt was about to simply walk away, Rachel was wracking her brain for something witty to say. The wind blew a torn bit of newspaper across their feet. And the front door of the Adams burst open.
For a moment all either of them could do was stare. The spectacle unfolding was so bizarre that it took some time to register. June Whiles was running up and down in front of the most expensive hotel in the entire city stark raving nak*d. Her petite body glowed like a pearl, her small br**sts bounced with every step and her thin legs pumped as she ran back and forth in front of the entrance where the stunned night doorman, a middle aged man named Thomas, stood with his mouth hanging unashamedly open. One of June's frail arms waved in the air, tattoos glowed from that arm, including the heavily inked Fuck You and her long hair swirled in the wind.