Just a Kiss

by Tabatha Kiss

  Just a Kiss

  A Heartthrob Hotel Novella

  Tabatha Kiss

  Contents

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  Just a Kiss

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Who is Trisha Wells?

  Who is Keith Monahan?

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover Design by Cover Me Timbers

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This novel contains explicit descriptions of erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive, including perverse adult language.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Reader discretion advised.

  tabathakiss.com

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  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  HEARTTHROB HOTEL SERIES

  You can check out anytime you like,

  but you’ll never want to leave!

  Just a Touch

  Just a Kiss

  OLD HABITS SERIES

  Meet the Naughty Men of Clover, Kansas…

  Steamy, Small Town Romances!

  The Mechanic

  The Milkman

  RICH BITCHES SERIES

  Wealth. Power. Brunch.

  Pretty Little Thing

  Pretty Dirty Trick

  Pretty Ever After

  SWEET CRAVINGS SERIES

  Sugary Sweet. Sinfully Dangerous.

  Muffin Top

  Hot Sauce

  THE SNAKE EYES SERIES

  Heart-pounding romances. Interconnecting stories.

  One unforgettable adventure!

  Bodyguard

  The Hitman’s Dancer

  Love and Wargames

  Bloodlines

  Hard Bounty

  No Fury

  THE BAD BALLER BOOKS

  Irresistible Sports Romances!

  Whiplash

  Deeper

  Home Run Baby

  THE MIDWEST ALPHAS

  Romantic Suspense in an MMA Underworld!

  Untouched

  Unbroken

  Undying

  THE LUMBERJACK DUET

  Wealth. Power. Wood.

  Lumberjack BOSS

  Lumberjack BRIDE

  THE BELLE ACADEMY BOOKS

  Steamy, sweet, and oh-so-taboo!

  Ruin Me

  2 in the PINK

  For more, go to tabathakiss.com

  Where does your favorite couple fit into

  the Tabatha Kiss Universe?

  Find out in the newly updated Character Map!

  tabathakiss.com/charactermap

  Just a Kiss

  By Tabatha Kiss

  I’ve been a lot of things.

  A brother. An athlete. A sex god.

  A fake boyfriend? That’s a new one.

  I’ve never seen her before in my life.

  There I was, minding my own business at the hotel bar,

  when she walked up and asked me to pretend to be her boyfriend.

  She’d introduce me to her overbearing parents. I’d fawn over her for a few minutes, plant a goodbye kiss on her cheek, and walk away with an extra twenty dollars in my pocket.

  Seemed simple enough.

  But she had no idea the random guy she tapped on the shoulder was one of the wealthiest men on the planet.

  I’m a man who gets what he wants

  and I made up my mind the second I saw those curves.

  It was supposed to be just a kiss.

  Now I want more. And I won’t stop until she’s mine.

  One

  Hayden

  I am so bored.

  When I was a kid, sick days were paradise. I got to stay home from school while Mommy and the maids doted on me like the little prince I was. It’s not nearly as fun as an adult. Now, I’m way too old for Mommy’s beck and call and the maids don’t find my constant requests for snacks nearly as cute as they used to.

  So, I suffer alone. I’m stuck in a suite on the 25th floor of the Botsford Plaza in Las Vegas, waiting around until some league doctor decides I’m well enough to get back to doing what I love.

  But I’m not sick. I’m just a little broken.

  I’ve spent nearly a decade as a professional baseball player. I’ve never missed a game. I’ve never taken a sick day or been too injured to play. But then, one fateful day, some kid on a motorbike brought it all crashing down. Nearly tore right through my left patellar tendon a month before baseball season began. Lovely.

  I will heal. I will prevail. I will be back on that diamond before the season is over. But until then...

  I’m so fucking bored.

  It wasn’t so bad a few weeks ago. The annual Botsford Corp. stockholders convention was here in Vegas, bringing with it a mountain of interesting people to keep me busy; my three brothers included. But they all skedaddled as soon as the meetings and presentations and nightly mixers were over and done with. My older brother, Graham, flew off to Canada with his old/new wife, Jen, to oversee the new hotel location breaking ground in Toronto. My baby brother, Jonah, is still local somewhere (I think) but far too busy playing shows with his band, Criminal Records, to keep me company.

  There’s always Ira, I suppose. He lives across the hall but takes his job seriously as the head of security for the hotel. Not one to play hooky, that one, so…

  It’s just me, myself, and my bum knee.

  I force myself to sit up in bed. My eyes wander the sterile suite, every surface masked in shadows thanks to the very thick blackout curtains obscuring the view outside.

  The clock reads 12:30. I’m almost tempted to fall right back to sleep but the call of nature beckons me the rest of the way off the bed and I hobble toward the bathroom to relieve myself.

  Once my bladder is good and satisfied, I splash a bit of cold water on my face to wake myself up. I eye my razor on the counter for a second but ultimately decide to keep the shadow steadily growing along my chin. I’m still the same handsome devil with or without it.

  I need a drink.

  I throw on a pair of jeans, making sure not to disturb the bandage wrapped loosely around my knee as I slowly pull them up my left leg. The bandage is mostly unnecessary at this point but I keep it on as a reminder to take it easy. I want back on that field as soon as possible and I can’t risk straining it any more than I have to.

  I fish through the closet in the corner to find a semi-clean black t-shirt to throw on before grabbing my wallet and room key off the writing desk and heading for the door. I take a right turn in the hallway and walk on down to the golden elevators.

  “Hey, Hayden.”

  I glance up as a housekeepi
ng cart comes to a stop beside me. The busty blonde in the white apron behind it flashes a wink at me as I tap the elevator call button.

  “Hey, Carly,” I greet, giving her a salute.

  She reaches into a green box on her cart and withdraws a pillow chocolate. “Rough night?” she asks, softly tossing the candy at me.

  I easily catch it in my palm. “Why do you say that?” I ask.

  “Because you look like shit,” she quips.

  The elevator doors slide open and I step on. “Carly, Carly, Carly,” I tease, quickly tearing the blue and gold wrapper off my candy. “If you want to comfort me at night so badly, all you have to do is ask.”

  Her head tilts in thought. “You know, I would…” she says, smirking, “but there’s just… a little something holding me back.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “Standards.”

  “Oof!” I pop the bit of chocolate into my mouth. “Struck out again, eh? Well, there’s always tomorrow.”

  She wags a manicured paw at me. “In your dreams, benchwarmer.”

  “Give it time, Mrs. Doubtfire.”

  She glowers as the doors close on her face.

  The elevator descends toward the lobby. I lean my back to the wall, softly chewing my chocolate as I shake off the playful rejection. Carly and I have gotten so good at that, I’ve practically lost all desire I might have had to sleep with her in the first place. I don’t think it’d be nearly as fun as I imagine and I run the risk of losing my free daily piece of chocolate. A man has his priorities, after all.

  The lobby is quiet. Friday afternoons usually are, from what I remember of my time spent working at this place as a teenager with my brothers. But this place will be completely ablaze until Monday afternoon as soon as night falls and the weekend tourists check-in. There should be some fun to be had then. But, for now…

  It’s day-drinking solo time for Hayden Botsford.

  I reach the hotel bar across the lobby and pause, squinting hard at the navy blue velvet rope blocking my path inside. I consider turning back and doing my day-drinking at the restaurant instead but I catch sight of Doc behind the bar across the room slicing a pile of limes. He’ll know what’s going on.

  I pass over the rope and walk on into the empty bar. The tables aren’t scattered around like usual; they’ve been arranged into one solid group, which usually means a private party of some sort.

  And a major damper in my plans.

  “Hey, Doc,” I say as I park it on the first bar stool.

  Doc looks up from his cutting board. “Hayden,” he says, smiling beneath a head of rough black hair. “What’s up, man?”

  I bob my head in the direction of the tables. “What’s going on over there?” I ask.

  “Oh. Some family reunion or something,” he says. “They rented out the whole bar for a few hours.”

  “Lovely.” I groan. “When does that start?”

  “About now.” He smirks. “You may have noticed the barrier meant to keep people out.”

  “Yeah, I stepped over it.” I glance over his head at the television on the wall, thankfully tuned-in to the baseball game. “Can I get a vodka tonic, please?”

  He laughs. “Fine. But just one, then you gotta get out of here.”

  I throw up a scout’s honor and he puts his knife down. As he makes my drink, I watch the game, cracking a smile as Home Run Hunter slams yet another homer over the center field wall. What a show-off.

  “Isn’t that your team playing today?” Doc asks.

  I nod. “That it is.”

  “Why are you here instead?”

  “Knee injury,” I answer. “They put me on leave for the next fourteen games, so I’m stuck here until then.”

  He sympathy cringes as he sets my drink down in front of me. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

  “But, hey, there’s always a bright side.” I pick up the glass, raising it high to salute him. “I get to hang out with my actual doctor for a while. Cheers.”

  Doc chuckles. “This one’s on me, pal. Get well soon.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” I wince at the game as the next batter strikes out.

  “But, seriously, get out of here before the event committee lady comes back and chews me out for serving undesirables. Her word, not mine.”

  I raise a brow. “Laney?”

  “Karen.”

  I cringe. “Say no more. I’ll be out of your hair once I’m done.”

  Doc stares at me for a few seconds, then chortles. “You slept with her and never called, didn’t you?”

  I hold up two fingers. “Twice.”

  “Well done.”

  “Thank you.”

  He picks up his knife and resumes slicing his limes. “Have you been benched since the season started?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Heck of a knee injury then.”

  “It’s not so bad. Could be worse. A lot worse. I’m just so bored. Nothing I can do except sit around and heal.”

  “Why don’t you just call up housekeeping?” he jokes. “As you do.”

  “Ehh...” I swirl my drink. “My regular go-to got back together with her boyfriend. I mean, I’m sure she’d still be DTF but I’m a dick, not an asshole, you know what I mean?”

  He nods. “Noble.”

  “I just need to find a hobby. Something to keep me occupied while I recoup...” I say, squinting at the television again. Someone on the other team slams a ball directly at our second baseman, who slips and falls right on his ass as he tries to scoop it off the dirt. “Come on, Hunter! Get it together, man...” I scoff.

  “Hey, if you’re looking for something to do, you could join the poker game tonight,” Doc suggests. “We meet every Friday downstairs. Sub-level 2.”

  I shake my head. Piece of shit got to third base. “More of a blackjack man, actually...”

  He shrugs. “Let me know if you change your mind. Thousand-dollar buy-in.”

  I bite my cheek. Tempting. “Who’s we?”

  “Me. Rian.” He pauses to think. “Fred, sometimes. Carly. Faye.”

  I blink. “Faye joins the poker game?”

  He nods. “That she does.”

  “Head of housekeeping Faye? That Faye?”

  “She’s not bad, either. Cleaned me out plenty of times.”

  “Damn. Let me think about it.”

  Doc gives me a thumbs up.

  “Hey, hot guy.”

  I turn on my stool to find a young woman standing down the bar a few feet away wearing a tight, midnight blue sundress and strappy, black heels. She’s looking right at me with determined eyes and a panicked scowl beneath a halo of strawberry blonde hair.

  I glance over my shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Moi?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, you.” She steps closer and lays her purse down on the counter next to my drink. “You want to make twenty bucks?”

  I look at Doc and he slinks to the side to pretend to slice more limes.

  The woman leans closer, her impatient eyes bouncing from me to the doorway across the bar as her sizable chest heaves up and down.

  I tilt my head with curiosity and nod. “Yes, I do,” I answer.

  “Okay...” She exhales hard and bobs her head behind us. “You see those three people across the lobby by the entrance?”

  I shift discreetly, following her eyeline toward the three people standing in the lobby. “The old couple and the young dude?” I ask, clarifying.

  “Right.” She nods, talking quickly. “The old people are my parents.”

  “Okay...”

  “The dude is Dylan McCoy.”

  “Cool...”

  “We hate Dylan McCoy,” she says. “A lot.”

  “Why do we hate Dylan McCoy?”

  “Because my mother is best friends with his mother and they’ve all been trying to set me up with him since junior high,” she answers, her voice dragging with annoyance.

  I take another look at him. Slicked back brown hair. A pressed tan
suit and shiny shoes. He’s dripping with wealth, as are her parents, yet this girl feels a tad more on the free-spirited side.

  “He seems the tall, dark, and handsome sort,” I say with a shrug. “What’s the problem?”

  “He’s boring!” Her face screws up. “Like, really, really boring. Discusses the friggin’ DOW at dinner parties boring.”

  I wince. “You’re right. That is boring.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, how do I get my twenty bucks?”

  “Right.” She blinks, panic rising as her parents begin walking in our direction. “Every year, my mother drags Dylan along with her to our family reunion to try and coerce me into some creepy mating ritual.”

  I frown. “Oh, so it’s your fault my day-drinking is about to come to an end.”

  “It is. Sorry.” She holds up a hand. “But here’s the thing: I don’t want to spend the next few days dodging Dylan McCoy’s skeevy advances and the only way to do that is to pretend I have a serious boyfriend. He’s a bro code kind of guy. Won’t go near another man’s property. Quote-unquote, of course.”