What the—? Joe was sound asleep. Covered to his chest with the sheet, lying on his back, his arms and legs flung out like a starfish, he was also taking up most of the bed. And snoring softly.
An insane giggle bubbled up in Meg’s throat. She felt like a silly fool. Here she’d thought she was Miss Irresistible, and all Joe wanted to do was sleep. When the barely contained hysterics subsided, she padded over to the bed, lifted the covers only enough to allow herself to slip in, and turned her back to Joe. Oh, well, she consoled herself, at least she hadn’t broken any of her rules.
Before turning out the light—he’d considerately left on the one on her nightstand—Meg lay there a moment, thinking…and decided she had to know. Ever so slowly, she turned onto her back, carefully lifted the sheet…and looked. Her eyes widened. Damn Joe Rossi for a liar! He was wearing underwear—blue-plaid boxers, to be exact.
Irrationally angry, feeling betrayed and denied, Meg dropped the sheet and flounced over onto her side, facing away from him again. She turned off the light, punched her pillow, then settled into the bedding—and thought she heard a low chuckle coming from the other pillow.
6
ONE SECOND Meg was sound asleep in her bed, and the next she was sitting up, wide awake, listening to someone pound fiercely on her bedroom door. Blinking rapidly, she forced her eyes to focus in the dim, opaque grayness of the room. Were those blackout curtains covering the windows? She hadn’t put up blackout curtains. Thoroughly confused, she surveyed the room. This wasn’t her bedroom. And she wasn’t alone in the bed. Cautiously, she looked closer at the handsome, half-naked man on her left who was now also sitting up looking confused.
Oh, thank God—Joe. Last night’s events came flooding back into Meg’s consciousness…along with the memory that she’d spent the night lying spooned against him, but not in the usual way. He hadn’t exactly wrapped himself around her. Instead, she’d thrown her arm and leg over him. And, she vaguely recalled, it had felt way too good to be just an innocent seeking of warmth…. Oh God, she hoped he didn’t have any waking recollection of that—
“What the hell?” Joe muttered, not glancing her way, his morning-husky voice sending delicious shivers up her spine. He scratched his head and yawned.
Meg grabbed his bare arm—
Startled, Joe jumped, thrashing the bedcovers.
“Joe, it’s me—Meg. There’s someone at the door,” she whispered.
Slumping, Joe stared down at her, obviously still not alert enough to comprehend the full scope of the situation. “Meg? What are you—? Did we—?” He glanced down at the shirt she still wore, his eyes turning a dark, dangerous blue when her traitorous nipples hardened at his gaze.
She crossed her arms self-consciously. “No, we didn’t. Now, focus, Joe. Please. There’s someone at the door.”
“Who?”
“How would I know—” Another round of insistent pounding made Meg clutch his arm again. “Joe, I think it’s the mob.”
Joe covered her fingers with his warm, strong hand and sighed. “Stay here. I’ll go see—”
“No, I’m going with you.”
Joe stared at her like she was nuts. “It’s maybe ten steps, Meg. I think you’ll be fine.”
“I know I will, because I’m going with you.”
Before their back-and-forth could escalate, a rough male voice out in the hallway called out “Room Service!”
Joe grinned. “See? It’s just Room Service. What’d you order? I’m starved.” He started to get out of the bed—
And Meg pulled him back. “Joe. I didn’t order anything.”
Confusion marked his features. “Then why—”
“I don’t know why. Worse, there is no room service here. Only a self-serve, free-for-all continental breakfast thing where you have to fight for food you’d never order, if you had a choice, and then eat in the lobby with people you’ve never met before. I hate that. It’s gross.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Joe’s sober expression emphasized the sexy-as-hell stubble covering his jaw and chin. “But on another note…” He called out to the door, “Hey, we didn’t order anything. You’ve got the wrong room.”
“No, I don’t. What I got out here has your name on it.”
“Yeah? What’s my name?”
That silenced the man in the hallway.
Very quietly and calmly, Meg said, “It’s them, and we’re going to die.”
Joe raised his eyebrows. “Are you always this upbeat in the morning?”
“Only when the Mafia’s at the door before coffee. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m going to put on my pants and go have a chat with Mr. Annoying out there.”
Meg peered around Joe to the door, searching its wood grain as if it might contain clues to what was on the other side. “He’s awfully quiet right now. What do you think he’s doing?”
“Probably loading his gun.”
“Do you really think so?”
Joe just tugged her to him.
“I’m just kidding. The guy’s probably from a takeout place and has realized he got the wrong room number and left. I’m sure it’s something simple like that.”
Unconvinced, Meg pulled away from the solid warmth of Joe’s body. “Really? How about if he just wants us to think he’s gone and he’s really still right outside the door and waiting for you to open it to check?”
Joe shrugged. “You could be right. Why don’t you put on your pants and go see what’s happening out in the hallway?”
Meg smacked his arm. “Because I’m not the guy here, lazybones.”
In that same second, someone out in the hall knocked on the door, this time more civilly.
“That’s it,” Joe said. “I’ve had it. I haven’t even had coffee yet. Wait here, Meg—and don’t argue with me, for once.”
With that, he rolled out of the bed and, clad only in his boxers, went to the door and called out, “Who the hell are you and what do you want? If I don’t like your answer, I’m calling the cops—you got me?”
While Joe was doing all that, Meg had also rolled off the bed on her side. She’d padded quickly to her purse, where she dug out her pepper spray. By the time Joe finished speaking, she was standing right behind him, her defensive weapon at the ready. Giving her a brief glance of exasperation, he put a protective hand out to keep her firmly behind him.
Just then, a different voice from the other side of the door said, “You don’t need to call the cops. I’m already here. Open up. It’s about Maury Seeger.”
“Oh my God,” Meg breathed. “Something’s wrong with Maury.”
“Like hell it is,” Joe whispered. “A second ago, this guy—or another guy with him—said he was Room Service.” Joe peeked out through the peephole. “I can’t see anyone. Either they’re really short, or they’re standing to one side.”
Meg had never felt so bleak inside. “We’re in big trouble here, aren’t we?”
“I think so. Uncle Maury might have been telling the truth.”
“Oh, God. Just see what they want, Joe, and give it to them.”
“And then what? They just say thanks and walk away? I doubt it. We need to keep our leverage with them.”
“Our leverage? What would that be, again?”
“Beats the hell out of me. The car, maybe? Anyway, what we need is a plan to get them to go away somehow, so we can, too.”
“Okay, here’s a thought. You could call the real cops, like you told them you would.”
“Yes, I could. And say what, exactly? ‘Help, the Mafia has us stuck in our hotel room and is trying to deliver breakfast!’ How do you see that going over down at the precinct? Don’t you think they’d have more questions for us than they would them?” He jerked his head toward the door to indicate the guys outside the room.
Again the men outside knocked on the door. “Open up. I’m telling you, I’m a federal agent. You want to see my badge?”
Out
the side of his mouth, Joe whispered, “Like those can’t be faked.” Then, loudly, he said, “Look, buddy, you’re not a federal agent. A minute ago your pal said he was from Room Service.”
“What pal? There’s no one out here but me.”
“I have pepper spray,” warned Meg bravely and loudly, ignoring Joe’s raised eyebrows and his muttered, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Good for you,” their visitor replied. “You might need it at some point. But I should warn you I’m an armed officer and use of my weapon could become necessary should you attempt to assault me.”
Meg’s breath caught in her throat. “He’d kill us,” she whispered. “Do something.”
“I say we get dressed and get out of here.”
To the tune of another round of knocking on the door and calls to open up, Meg hurried toward the little pile of clothes she’d left on the room’s desk chair.
“Meg?”
She turned around to the sight of Joe standing half-naked before her—wide shoulders, sculpted pecs, and six-pack abs. She didn’t respond, just stared.
“My shirt.” He pointed at her. “You have it on. I need my shirt.”
“Right.” As requested, she pulled his shirt over her head and tossed it to him. Quickly, she lifted her T-shirt from the chair, grabbed up her bra from under it and slipped her arms into it. “How are we going to sneak out of here, Joe? We can’t go out that door.”
Standing close behind her, he didn’t say anything, but now it was his turn to stare. She looked down at herself…unclasped bra, bikini panties…And a moment ago she’d just flashed him her breasts. She snapped her fingers in his face. “Focus, sweetie. This is life or death.”
Dressed only in his knit shirt and boxers, Joe gave his head a tiny shake. “Right. We’ll go out the bathroom window, if it’s big enough.”
She shook her head. “It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there isn’t one. But even if there was, what floor is this, again?”
“Damn it. The fourth.”
A cell phone suddenly rang, making them both jump.
“Oh my God, if that’s Carl—”
“I’ll kill him myself. Maybe it’s Uncle Maury.”
“That’s more likely, since the ringing is coming from over there.” Meg pointed to the nightstand on Joe’s side of the bed.
“Gotcha.” He dove across the bed, grabbed up his phone and rolled over onto his back to face her. “You keep getting dressed.”
“Don’t worry. That was totally my plan.” Meg managed to get her bra snapped and her T-shirt tugged over her head.
“Hello,” Joe said abruptly into his phone. “Listen, Uncle Maury, there are a couple of goons with pieces—Linda!”
JOE MET MEG’S GAZE across the room. She stood there, frozen, with her khaki pants in her hands, ready to shrug into them. Barely able to look away from her tanned and shapely legs, he signaled, with a shake of his head, that he couldn’t believe the timing. Turning away from Meg, he realized Linda had asked him a question.
“Uh, nothing, no. Just woke up…I sound funny?”
The guy out in the hall banged on the door. “Open up in there. This is the last time I’m going to tell you.”
Joe’s abdominal muscles tensed. “No, it’s the TV. Some old gangster movie is on—I don’t know. Are you all right?”
Yes, he knew he needed to get her off the phone, but he was momentarily too rattled to think how to do that without arousing Linda’s suspicions. He didn’t want her to call him back—or worse, call Uncle Maury, who might tell her what was going on. Especially the part about Joe’s being in a hotel room with another woman.
Speaking of the other woman…
While murmuring polite noises as Linda talked about work and her mother’s yappy little dog’s skin condition, Joe stood up and looked for Meg. She was over by the bathroom and tugging his slacks off the hanger. Completely dressed now herself, she hurried toward him, but Joe shot forward, crossing the room first and turning her around. Brooking no mutiny, he urged her ahead of him into the bathroom.
Once in there, he closed and locked the door. At least in here, they were out of the line of fire…he hoped. And he didn’t want Meg thinking he’d gone off into the bathroom alone to have a private conversation with Linda. He looked over at Meg, and she surprised him by holding his pants open and down low so he could step into them.
Joe’s admiration for her shot up. Could she be more cool-headed or practical under pressure? And frankly, her position in front of him with her face bent toward his crotch threatened to have his desire for her skyrocketing just as quickly. With his free hand on her slender shoulder, he obediently stepped into his pants, one leg at a time, fighting his body’s eager reaction to her. Meg pulled up, then buttoned and zipped his pants. Done with her part, she crossed her arms and leaned against the locked door, shooting pointed get-off-the-phone-with-your-girlfriend-right-now daggers his way.
Good idea for more than one reason.
“Hey, Linda, honey, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have to go…. Yeah, I’m glad to hear Harry’s not losing his hair anymore. I know, a bald Pomeranian named Harry is not a pretty sight. But, look, babe, someone’s at the door.” Which was no lie, after all. “No, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong—What? No, not a good idea. Seriously. Don’t fly down here to see me.”
Meg rolled her eyes and turned her gaze away from his.
Damn it. “Because there’s no need. Look, I’ll be home in a week, and we’ll talk then. That’s the deal, remember? And I really do have to go. What? Oh. Yeah. Me, too. Of course I do you, too. You know that. No, I can’t say it. I just can’t. Not right now—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Joe, tell the woman you love her and get off the freakin’ phone. We have armed barbarians at the gate, remember?”
Joe straightened his mouth into a thin line. “No one’s here with me,” he said into the phone while maintaining eye contact with Meg. “That was the TV…. I told you—I’m at my uncle’s…. What? Well, I didn’t answer his phone just now when you called there—I mean here—because I was, uh, in the bathroom—”
That was when Linda called him a liar and hung up on him. Joe exhaled slowly and lowered the cell phone from his ear. “That was Linda,” he said needlessly as he hit the end button and plopped the phone into his pants pocket. “I don’t think we have to worry about her calling back.”
“I’ll say,” Meg commented levelly. “So, what do we do now?”
Oh, this room was getting smaller and smaller. But in a sudden burst of inspiration, or perhaps desperation, Joe said, “We’ll call the front desk and tell them to send up Security. I don’t think whoever is out there will want all that attention coming their way, so they just might leave.”
“And hang around outside instead, waiting for us to come out.”
“You got a better idea?”
She shook her head. “No. Call the front desk.”
He retrieved his phone from his pocket, opened it…and stared at it. He met Meg’s waiting gaze. “Any idea what the number is to this place?”
Meg covered her face with her hands and spoke through the web of her overlapping fingers. “We’re going to die right here in this bathroom, I just know we are.”
“Meg.” Joe clutched her arm to get her attention. “No one’s going to die, except Uncle Maury when I get hold of him—Oh, my God.” A sudden thought froze Joe in place and had him staring blankly straight ahead.
Meg put a hand on his chest. “What? What is it, Joe?”
He swallowed hard. “Linda—”
“Oh, Linda again—” Meg snatched her hand away.
“No, listen. She said she’d just called me at Uncle Maury’s house and no one answered. That’s why she called my cell phone.”
Apparent understanding of the implications widened Meg’s brown eyes. “Oh, not good. They tortured Maury and that’s how they know where we are—”
“N
o, they didn’t. Well, they might have. No, they didn’t. Even if they did, it wouldn’t do them any good. We didn’t tell Uncle Maury where we are, remember?”
Meg frowned. “That’s right. Then how’d they find us?”
Joe thought about it for a moment. “Maybe they followed us last night, and we didn’t realize it.”
“And waited all night before they came up?”
“Okay, so maybe they just found us this morning. The damned Stogie is right out there in the parking lot. All they had to do was drive by and see it. Sure, the odds of it happening that way are pretty slim, but then again, here they are.”
“Do you hear yourself, Joe? You’re talking like you believe Maury’s Mafia story is real.”
“I don’t know what I believe, Meg. But whoever is outside that door in the hallway with those fishy stories certainly exists. And that’s what we have to go with right now.”
“No kidding.” Meg was chewing on a thumbnail. “But what do they want with us? Why don’t they just take the car?”
“They can’t. I have the keys.”
“Then give them the stupid keys, Joe. Open the door and toss them out.”
“Really? And then they burst in while shooting? I don’t think so. And not until I know where Uncle Maury is and that he’s not hurt. For now, the keys stay with me.”
She patted his chest. “You’re right. Never mind. But we still don’t know how they found us here. And how’d they know what room we’re in? The front desk wouldn’t tell them that.”
“Damn, that’s right. They’re good at this, aren’t they?”
Before Meg could respond, someone knocked on the bathroom door. She jumped straight into Joe’s arms.
Joe held her tight and thought furiously of possible defensive measures he could take. Fling a tiny bar of soap at them? Lasso them with toilet paper? Squirt a sample of shampoo in their eyes—
“Joey? Meggie? You two kids in there?”
Joe stilled, not comprehending at first what he’d just heard. Finally, his brain made sense of what his ears were telling it. Yes, his crazy great-uncle was standing on the other side of the bathroom door.
Blind Date Page 8