I wondered what he was doing in China. He’d been on a shoot, obviously, but why had they sent him all the way to China for that? And why had he been by himself? Weren’t band members supposed to, you know, take pictures together? Wasn’t that the point of being in a band?
I closed my eyes against the chaos on the windshield and let the rain sing to me, my imagination going back to the feel of his hand on my arm and the kindness in those dizzyingly gorgeous blue eyes.
Ugh. I’d snapped at him and yanked my arm away. Because of course I had. I’d been standoffish and rude, and stalked in the other direction without so much as a thank-you for him taking the time to help me, rather than shouting at me like the rest of the crew had been doing. Which I’d deserved, to be fair, wandering in front of the cameras like that. I, especially, should know that.
Jeez, Alexis, you really need to get better with people, I told myself.
It was a classic problem. I was terrific at putting on the mask. Dancing the dance. When I had to. I’d learned that when I was young. My grandma—the selfless, amazing woman who had raised me—had needed the money, and back then, it had felt more like playing pretend. The moment I was back in my own skin, though, I couldn’t be bothered with niceties.
When I’d ran into Rian Cassady, I hadn’t been prepared to deal with anyone. I’d still been exhausted from the shoot and hadn’t been ready to interact with another person. Especially one who looked like a punk-rock version of a god, fallen straight from Mount Olympus and sporting a hot black leather getup.
I admit it, I’d frozen. And then I’d overreacted, embarrassed at having been caught by surprise and making a mistake.
Not that it mattered. I’d probably never see him again. So I’d never have to explain why I’d been so rude. Thank God. I was bad at dealing with people when I wasn’t adequately prepared. I was even worse at apologies.
I shoved the car door open, took a deep breath, and then sprinted for the hotel, doubled over and trying to protect as much of my body—thankfully, now wrapped in a robe—as I could from the relentless, soaking rain.
When I got to the front door, though, I found it… locked.
Wait, locked? Could that be right? I’d just been at the hotel that morning. All of my stuff was upstairs in one of the rooms. Had they shut the place down in the time I’d been on the shoot? Super strange for a five-star hotel. This was likely because of the location. I was supposed to be staying in Beijing, not in the middle of nowhere. Instead, I was trapped here, seemingly alone. Could the hotel really be locked?
I grabbed at the handle and jerked the door back and forth several times.
“Hello?” I shouted. “My name is Alexis Taylor. I’m a guest at this hotel!”
“I bet they’ve locked this door in case of flooding or something,” a voice suddenly said from right over my shoulder. “See how it’s lower than the parking lot? Let me try.”
Without waiting for an answer, the guy I’d seen in the jungle—Rian—stepped around me, coming from out of nowhere, and started hammering on the door himself.
“Is there anyone in there?” he shouted. “We have rooms at this hotel!”
When we didn’t get an answer, we turned in unison back toward the driveway—only to see that the cab I’d come in, and the one I assumed he’d arrived in, had already disappeared.
“Terrific,” I growled. “Stranded.”
And I was betting neither of our cell phones were working, either. The reception out there was horrible—I’d already experienced that—and I didn’t even know if my cell phone would be dry enough to use.
He didn’t seem to be put off at all, though. Instead, he shot me a grin and grabbed my hand.
“Come on,” he said. “I saw another door on the other side of the building, and there were stairs leading up to it. If I thought there would be flooding, that’s the one I’d leave open. Let’s go.”
I didn’t have time to tell him yes or no—and even if I’d been thinking about it, I wouldn’t have turned him down. I was already soaked to the bone and starting to shiver. If he thought he had a way to get us into the hotel, which I hoped would be warm and dry, I was all for it.
I took off after him, my hand clasped in the hand of the sexy stranger who had shown up to save me, again. This time, I’d try not to be rude.
Alexis
It turned out that Rian’s magic door at the side of the hotel was, in fact, unlocked. After we got in and shook ourselves dry, we then made our way to the reception area to get some answers about why the front door had been locked—which was indeed the danger of flooding. We stood staring at each other in the lobby, dripping on the expensive marble floor and shivering in unison.
“Well, I guess this is the end of that adventure,” I blurted out, wondering how exactly to get out of this situation. The guy had just saved me twice in the space of about an hour. What do you do when someone did that? Send them flowers? Champagne? Did Hallmark make cards for that sort of thing?
Or, do you just ignore it and act like guys saved you every day, and you were immune to it?
The truth was, of course, that it didn’t happen every day. It was far, far too uncommon in my world, where women were little more than decorations, and men held most of the power and had no problem using it in unsavory ways.
The truth was, I was meltingly, glowingly aware of his hand still on my elbow, the warmth seeping from his skin into mine, the safety of his presence still wrapping around me like a robe that someone had just grabbed out of the dryer.
For goodness’ sake, what was wrong with me? A robe directly out of the dryer? Who even thought things like that?
Rian was staring at me as my brain did mental somersaults, accompanied by the flipping of my stomach, his own face registering something that looked like indecision.
“Sure,” he said. “Uh…thanks for the adventure, I guess?”
“Thanks for saving me. Again,” I said, finding the right words and giving him as warm a smile as I could muster. “Without you, I would still be standing out there in the rain. Trying to use my phone to get another taxi and no doubt failing miserably.”
He gave me a completely genuine, wonderful laugh at that and squeezed my arm, then ducked in a bit closer and lowered his voice to a husky whisper.
“Believe me when I say it was completely my pleasure. Any time you need saving, I’ll be there.”
I clasped my hands in front of me, resting my chin on them, and opened my eyes even further. “You mean you’ll be my very own knight in shining armor?” I asked, making my voice soft as well.
Then, I broke out into giggles, unable to keep a straight face. It was too ridiculous, and I couldn’t believe I’d even said it. He must have thought I was completely insane.
But to my surprise, he was laughing as well, the joyful noise carrying through the cavernous lobby of The Jewel Hotel. When he stopped, his dimples were still showing, and the corner of his mouth was tucked up with the promise of more laughs to come.
“Always,” he said simply. “Just call my name and I’ll be there.”
I pretended to frown. “But what is your name, anonymous hero guy? I can’t call you if I don’t know your name.”
He tipped his head and stared at me for a moment in a way I completely understood. He was surprised that I didn’t know who he was. And something in his eyes told me that he was… relieved about it. Relieved at the idea that he was with someone who hadn’t pre-judged him, but was taking him for who he was in that moment and in that space.
“Rian,” he replied. “But you can call me Anonymous Hero Guy. White knight to ladies who are caught in the jungle or wandering through the rain without cell phone service. Hero to those who might not know about secret doorways. And rescuer of damsels in distress who don’t have dinner reservations.”
I caught that last hint for what it was and looked around us, raising one eyebrow in doubt. The place looking like a freaking ghost town. I didn’t know where everyone was, but at the
moment, we were literally the only people in the lobby—even the receptionist had disappeared.
Come to think of it, with the lack of business this hotel seemed to be getting, I was worried if their restaurant would even be open.
“Looks to me like there won’t be anyone else trying to get dinner reservations,” I said pointedly. “Which means this particular damsel should be okay on that account. But I’ll call you if I need help. Thanks again.”
I gave him a flirty wink—so unlike me—and turned toward the elevators, looking down again at the key in my hand to see that I was on the eighth floor, and already planning the warm bath I would be having the moment I got into my room. I was that sort of cold that could only be cured by hot water, and standing there in the lobby flirting wasn’t going to warm me up.
Well, it was. In fact, my cheeks felt like they were radiating heat from the flush that had crept up in my interaction with Rian, my sexy rock star white knight. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t still shivering.
I walked away, knowing he was watching me. And knowing that I would be looking out for him when I came back down. True, I wasn’t staying at the hotel for much longer. But I was lonely, and a little bit of fun wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
Rian
I watched her walk away, my heart hammering out a freaking tango in my chest. What the hell had that been? No one ever got me flustered like that. I should be used to celebrities and beautiful people—I usually spent time with other performers, musicians, artists, comedians, and so on. Models, too, occasionally.
But no one like her. No one who had disregarded—or maybe truly didn’t know—about my fame, and instead just focused on fun banter. No one who had been able to tie me in loops and leave me floundering behind them as they walked away.
And boy, was she walking away, her hips swaying in a manner that told me she knew I was watching and was making the most of it. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder—one that I probably wasn’t supposed to see…or maybe one that I was supposed to see and appreciate—and I grinned to myself, then turned toward the stairs. If I followed her to the elevator banks right now, I knew we’d be sharing an elevator, and after that dramatic exit, a stuck-in-the-elevator-together situation would definitely make things awkward and me look like an idiot.
Besides, this wasn’t going to be the last time I talked to her. Not if I had anything to do with it. This was an isolated hotel, the only decent one in the area, and it was pouring cats and dogs outside. Even if we’d had an option to drive somewhere else for dinner, I didn’t think anyone in their right mind would choose to go out in this weather. And there was only one restaurant in this place.
So, unless she chose to get room service, it meant we’d be eating in the same spot. I didn’t think she’d be ordering room service. I would have bet good money on her wanting to see what else we could get up to.
And it wasn’t going to be that hard to wait to see when she came down for dinner and manage to be in the restaurant at the right time. Or to walk in right after her.
I threw open the door to the stairs and started climbing, my lips stretching out in a grin.
Two hours later, I was in the lobby, showered, in warm and dry clothes, and with a few books to keep me busy. No, maybe it wasn’t the ideal place for reading. I would much rather have been up in my room, in my sweatpants. Or even better, in the library, which I’d passed on the way down here.
But if I was going to see Alexis coming down to dinner, I needed to be in a central location. I needed to be in a place where I would be able to see her passing right by me—and I needed to look like I had a reason for being there.
So, I’d collected two of the books from the stack in my room—yes, I always traveled with multiple books…I mean, you need to have options while you’re traveling, right?—and found the coziest-looking circle of chairs in the lobby. The hotel was one of those places that had organized big armchairs in groups of three around tiny tables, and that suited me just fine.
And those chairs definitely didn’t disappoint. I sank right into the one semi-facing the elevators, the stuffing giving until I was practically cradled in the thing, and the warm velvet of the upholstery just added to the effect. I wiggled around, finding the right position, and then sighed happily.
Nothing to see here, people. Just your standard leather-and-spikes-wearing rock star cuddling up with a good book in one of the coziest armchairs he’s ever felt. I snorted to myself. Hell, all I needed was a cup of tea and a plate full of English biscuits and I’d be the picture of a bookworm scorning the outdoors for the pleasures of the written word.
Maybe I should start wearing glasses, I thought. The horn-rimmed kind that make people look both nerdy and attractive at the same time. Change up my look. Save myself the hassle of contacts, too.
Good thing no one was there to see me right now, and that included my manager and my agent. They would have killed me for being so nerdy-looking in public. It definitely didn’t fit the reputation they’d worked so hard to build for me.
Then again, that was one of the reasons I’d agreed to this trip. Coming by myself—and traveling so far from home—had meant, I’d hoped, that I’d be traveling without the press, and life without paparazzi, even for a couple of days, which was well worth a fourteen-hour plane ride. Worth the division it was building in my band, which I still wasn’t sure how I was going to repair. The chance to be in public and just sit there and read, without anyone bothering me, coming up and asking for a photograph or an autograph, without the photographers and their busy cameras, the reporters with their phones out, already typing up a snarky article…that freedom was priceless.
I grabbed the book off the top of the stack I’d set on the table and flipped it over, trying to remember what this one was about. I bought books every time I got a chance—my library at home was truly ridiculous—but I rarely had a chance to read them. Which meant I had many, many books that I didn’t remember even buying.
After a quick scan of the chosen book’s blurb, I had refreshed my memory adequately and cracked the book open, settling in. This one was a psychological thriller, a guilty pleasure of mine—I usually read autobiographies and historical fiction. Then, I remembered why I was in the lobby, and cast a quick look at my watch. The big, blingy gold one. The one Haley had gotten me for my birthday.
I hated the thing, if I was being honest, but I had to wear it. It was part of my deal with her. Part of our deal with the label.
And it was already five in the afternoon. Perfect. If my suspicions were correct, Alexis was an early dining sort of person. She’d want to get the eating out of the way so she could spend her evening doing more interesting things. I wondered if she was a reader in her free time, too. She looked the type, maybe.
No, I didn’t know her well enough to be making that sort of assumption. Clearly not. But I was pretty good at reading people, and I thought I probably wasn’t far off.
I looked up at the elevator banks and slid further down in my chair, making sure that the book would be at least partially covering my face when she walked out. After all, I didn’t want to be obvious about the fact that I was sitting down there waiting for her. A man had his pride to think about.
Alexis
I saw him the moment I walked out of the elevator. Of course I did. He was sitting front and center in the lobby, for goodness’ sake, reading a book. And carefully holding it up so that it partially covered his face.
But that did nothing to hide the leather jacket that was so obviously him. And the blond mess sticking up above the book itself. It also didn’t hide his long, muscular legs, showing off in a pair of tight black jeans, stretched out in front of him like he was completely relaxed. He had managed to somehow stretch out in an armchair, to the point that the bottom edge of his T-shirt was riding up on his belly, revealing not only the lines of his hips but also, below that—
Alexis Alexandra Taylor! I mentally shouted at myself, shocked at the direction of my thoughts.
What on earth was going on with me lately? I was acting like some sex-starved maniac who couldn’t think about anything but getting into that man’s pants. A man I hardly knew, no less—and a man that I was positive already had a girlfriend.
Thinking about flirting with him was one thing. Hell, flirting with him was one thing. Thinking about where that slight hint of a happy trail went was something entirely different.
I squirmed a bit on my heels, shook my head to clear my thoughts, and then chose the path that would take me as far from him as possible. The restaurant was directly across the lobby from me, and I wanted to see…
Okay, I admit it. I wanted to see whether he would follow me into the restaurant. Whether he was there to stalk me as I went to dinner, or there to actually read his book. Books, I amended, doing a doubletake at the small, decorative table next to him. Because if those were his, it meant he’d brought multiple books down with him.
So maybe he wasn’t waiting for me, then. Maybe he was planning to spend the entire night in the lobby, reading. My heart twinged a bit at that, though I tried to ignore it. Did I care what he was planning to do with his night? Absolutely not. I didn’t give a crap about his plans. Right?
I strolled by, using every ounce of self-discipline I had in my body to keep from looking at him, as if I didn’t have one inkling that he was right here, sitting in that armchair like he was waiting for me to go sit in his lap and snuggle up to share his book and his warmth.
The fact that I was even having thoughts like that about him made it a whole lot easier, let me tell you. I wasn’t the domestic sort. I’d never even been the cuddling sort. I didn’t know what it was about Rian Cassady that made me consider doing things like that, but it was starting to feel like it might be a problem.
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