by J. D. Chase
She swallowed. She couldn’t say how but there seemed to be a threat in those words, like he was implying that she should be concerned for her safety. The walls of the lift seemed to move inward. He was standing a few inches away but it felt as though he were pressed against her. She felt trapped, almost claustrophobic, and wished the doors would hurry up and re-open. Why the hell is the lift taking so long? Ah . . . because he hasn’t pushed the button. She looked to the control panel, where his hand covered the buttons.
He tilted his head to one side, clearly awaiting her response before he activated the lift.
‘I was simply being practical. That thought hadn’t even entered my head.’
He seemed to consider her words. ‘So you feel safe with me?’ The emphasis on the word safe made her question what he meant. Shouldn’t I? Suddenly she wasn’t sure how she felt and how she should answer. It felt like he was testing her yet again.
‘Define safe,’ she said eventually, although she wasn’t sure she wanted him to. It was all getting way too personal. She’d already worked out that most of what he said was carefully calculated before he opened his mouth. The resulting effect was that she too found herself choosing her words with care – and for someone with a dodgy brain-to-mouth filter at the best of times, it was hard work.
His eyebrow twitched. She’d bet anything that he wasn’t expecting the response she’d given. She wondered whether he was disappointed.
Surely he didn’t expect me to say that I feel safe with him, he’s a virtual stranger after all, or that I don’t feel safe to be in a lift with him, my boss . . . that would be inappropriate. But, hey, asking your employee whether they feel safe with you is entirely inappropriate, she thought, unsure whether Xander knew what propriety was or, more to the point, that he cared. She suspected not.
‘No matter,’ he said, looking down at his hand and pressing the button to take them to the first floor. Instantly, the lift returned to its normal size and she no longer felt as though he were touching her. The spell had been broken. Disturbingly, although Isla knew she should be pleased, she wasn’t at all sure she was.
‘Oh.’ The word slipped from her lips unbidden and instantly he turned back to her, his eyes locking with hers and whoosh, the spell was recast and the air vibrated with the intensity of his stare. She felt as though the distance was closing between them, although neither of them moved. She realised that, this time, it was as though she was being drawn to him. Something caught her eye and she forced her eyes from his. A vein in his neck, just under his jaw, stood proud, pulsing too quickly.
Her breath caught in her throat and she sought his eyes again, but stopped to take in his soft, sensual mouth. At that precise moment, his lips parted slightly and the tip of his tongue ran along his bottom lip. She could imagine just how good that tongue would feel . . . Pain jolted her and she realised that she’d bitten her own bottom lip. Hard. She saw his eyes widen in recognition. Then an electronic tone rang out just before the lift doors opened.
She needed to get out of there, but they both moved at the same time and their upper arms brushed together. Isla almost gasped aloud. She’d thought the sensation of being pinned by his gaze was intense, but contact, even through clothing, was indescribable. She needed to sit down as her legs suddenly seemed barely capable of holding her upright. Her step faltered and the lurched forward. Xander reached out to grasp her. ‘No, don’t touch me!’ she cried and he froze, hands held out in front. Managing to regain her balance and some of her composure by grasping the door handle of the room opposite and taking a couple of deep breaths, she saw from the corner of her eye that he was lowering his hands to his sides.
‘Is everything okay?’ drifted a concerned voice from somewhere nearby.
Isla jerked her head to find Bobbi, wearing a quizzical expression, standing at the end of the corridor.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Isla called, standing and straightening her jacket before plastering a smile on her face.
‘Are you sure?’ Bobbi had clearly heard her cry out.
‘You heard her,’ snapped Xander. ‘She said everything’s fine. Haven’t you got something to be getting on with?’
Isla grimaced at his harsh tone as Bobbi scurried off in the opposite direction.
Oh fuck! What will the rumour mill make of this?
‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to begin the tour.’ The coldness of his tone conveyed how pissed off he was.
But is he pissed off because I’ve shrieked at him when he went to help me or because it was witnessed by another member of staff? After his earlier question about whether she felt safe with him, he would probably assume that she didn’t. Or worse, he’d think she was some nutter who didn’t like to be touched. But that doesn’t matter – I don’t want him to touch me. She thought of his tongue sliding over his lip and . . . Oh God . . . I don’t – do I?
After clearing her throat, she attempted to replace the disturbing thoughts about Xander with work-related ones. ‘Okay, shall we start at one end and work our way along? This floor is made up of standard rooms.’
‘Whatever. It seems you’re calling the shots,’ he replied, his expression suggesting that he was less than impressed.
Isla shrugged and walked along the corridor to the far end of the building, wondering how he could think that she was calling the shots when he was the one who had dictated that she give him a tour of the hotel.
Thankfully, she managed to show him all of the bedrooms that were currently unoccupied – determined by knocking on the door as Xander wouldn’t allow her to return to her office and print out the reservation information. He also saw all the storerooms on that floor without incident, introducing him to the housekeeping staff that they encountered. He was polite yet distant, as if he were disinterested in her running commentary, so she eventually resorted to periodically asking whether he had any questions. Then, just when she thought they’d reached the end, he announced that he wanted to see the rooms upstairs. She smiled and began to walk back to the lift. The lift! Just the thought of the earlier potent encounter made her heart hammer in her chest.
‘Um, actually I’ll show you the stairs,’ she said, turning around so abruptly that he crashed into her mid-turn, making her rebound sideways off his muscular chest. With catlike reflexes, he reached out and caught her, pulling her into his chest and wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he braced his feet.
Slam! Her cheek came to rest against the solid clavicular section of his pectoral muscles and she felt the muscle relaxing as his arm slowly lowered, his hand coming to rest at the small of her back and sending tingles down her spine. His other hand landed on her hip, below the level of her jacket, and she could feel his touch burning through her thin jersey dress and into her skin, disabling her ability to move. All she could do was feel him – his hands, his breath on the top of her head, and his heart beating strongly in his chest. She could hear it too . . . and his breathing. Oh dear Lord! She could smell his tasteful aftershave and something that wasn’t flowery enough to be washing detergent or shower gel. It was the heady scent of man. This man. And it was intoxicating.
Suddenly, she felt the desire to slide her arms around him to either pull him closer or prevent him breaking the contact; she wasn’t sure which. He was trapping one of her arms to her side with his but her other hand was hanging free, close to where his was scorching through her dress and heating her veins. She lifted it on to the arm of his jacket near his elbow and tentatively rested it there until she heard his heartbeat escalate slightly. Or is it mine? Or both? He made no move to break their contact. Emboldened, she slowly ran her hand down the length of his forearm to his wrist, the movement pushing her breasts forward, crushing against him.
She heard his breath catch and his heart pound in his chest. She paused until she heard his breathing continue, noticing that it was as shallow as her own. Then she felt his hand on her hip begin to move. Slowly it slid down to her outer thigh, the heat spreading in its wake, ge
tting ever closer to her bare skin. Disappointment coursed through her when his hand stopped just shy of the hemline, and she slid her fingers from his wrist to the back of his hand. The naked touch seemed to jolt them both into action, each snatching their hand away and stepping back. They stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other in bewilderment until he turned and headed for the stairs. Isla lifted her hand and stared at her palm as if checking for evidence of the highly charged current that had just passed through it. Her skin looked unharmed but it felt as though it had been scalded. She blew out a long breath and gave her hand a shake as she followed him to the staircase.
Thankfully, he hadn’t waited for her. She found him in what she believed to be the hotel’s most underused asset, the traditionally styled suite. The rest of the floor was made up of the hotel’s superior rooms and two junior suites.
‘How often is this booked?’ he demanded, standing with his back to her at the far side of the living room.
Isla breathed a tiny sigh of relief at his signal that they were back to being professional again. ‘Not very often. It’s overpriced for one thing and, for another, most of our guests are business people who travel alone so there’s little demand for it. It’s something I raised with Gerald on several occasions but he refused to do anything about it. He even let staff stay here free of charge on occasion,’ she replied as she moved to his side.
Immediately he walked off, without acknowledging her words, into the master bedroom. She marched after him, fully in work mode now. ‘I think we should look at addressing the issue,’ she persisted as she reached him. ‘I have some ideas—’
‘Is the bed comfortable?’ he asked suddenly, turning and pinning her with that look. ‘Is it fit for purpose?’
Isla frowned. How am I supposed to know that? Well, no guests have ever complained about it. ‘I’ve never received any complaints.’
His eyes narrowed, making her feel like shrinking away from him, yet she had no idea why.
‘Hmmm,’ was all he said before he turned and walked back through the suite and into the corridor.
She followed him, feeling ever more exhausted and unsettled. The effect of being in his company she supposed, refusing to acknowledge the little voice in her head that reminded her of certain other effects on her body when she was near him.
‘It’s a similar situation with the junior suites,’ she began as she started towards the first one, but he walked off, back the other way to the stairwell.
Isla felt like shrieking in frustration. He obviously thought he was better than her and that left a bitter taste in her mouth. He may have more money than me but decent manners cost nothing!
She stomped along the corridor, deciding not to follow him but to descend in the lift instead. She called him a variety of names under her breath the whole time it took to return to the ground floor and by the time she arrived, she decided that she really didn’t like Xander Whatever-His-Name-Was. She stepped out into the lobby and again saw him lounging against the reception desk. This time he had both receptionists making eyes at him. Nadine had started her shift and was being even more flirtatious than Belinda . . . and he appeared to be lapping it up.
Refusing to walk past them, she detoured through the bar to the staff quarters. She heard Dean humming something or another as soon as she neared the bar but she couldn’t see him until he straightened, a tray of glasses in his hand.
‘What are you doing here so early again?’ she demanded.
He looked surprised to see her. ‘Oh Isla, thank God you’re okay.’
She frowned. ‘Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?’
He frowned and then grinned mischievously. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’
‘Remember what? Don’t play games, Dean. I’ve had a crap morning and my head’s more than a little sore.’
He snickered. ‘I’ll bet is. Man, you must have been pissed last night!’
Defensively, she countered, ‘I may have been a little tipsy. I didn’t eat yesterday and I fancied a glass of wine.’
‘Or six?’ he chuckled, his laugh infectious.
‘Sadly, only three. I can’t drink on an empty stomach. Well, not wine anyway. I’d have been okay with anything else but wine gets me pissed way too easily. It’s odd – I can drink spirits and keep control of my faculties and not have a minging hangover, but wine . . .’ She frowned and blew out a breath.
He laughed. ‘That’s common. I know loads of women who say the same. And they never learn, either.’
‘Really? That’s weird. Perhaps I’ll steer clear of wine for a while.’ She laughed.
He looked serious for a moment. ‘I think that may be a good idea.’
‘Yeah.’ Then Isla remembered his earlier remarks. ‘How did you know I was pissed, I mean tipsy? Do I look that rough?’ She peered in the mirror behind the bar.
‘Your text. I didn’t know whether it was an insult or a compliment. Did you mean “you’re not a man. Bastard!” or “you’re not a man-bastard”? Mind you, you did declare that all men were bastards so I suppose you were calling me a bastard either way!’
Something rankled in the back of her memory but she couldn’t grasp it. Her blank expression prompted Dean to get his phone and show her the messages. She gasped in horror and groaned.
‘I’m so sorry. I meant you weren’t a bastard.’
He leaned across the bar and made puppy dog eyes. ‘So you don’t think I’m not a man?’
‘Does anyone actually ever do any work around here?’ a familiar voice demanded loudly.
They both jumped and turned to the door where Xander was standing, looking furious.
‘Dean’s in early. He doesn’t start for a couple of hours yet so he can chat if he wants to,’ Isla retorted defensively – it was she who’d interrupted Dean after all.
‘Well, don’t bother claiming for the overtime,’ Xander snapped, glaring at Dean. ‘You weren’t called in and I’m not paying you to resolve issues in your love life.’
‘He wasn’t going to claim any overtime! He rarely does – even if he is called in early,’ Isla returned coldly. ‘And he wasn’t discussing his love life.’
The withering look her gave her left her in no doubt that he didn’t believe her and nor did he appreciate her talking to him like that. Well fuck you! God, the man makes my blood boil . . . in more ways than one . . . The thought entered her mind unbidden but she pushed it out, vowing to keep a healthy distance between them in future.
‘My office, Miss Hamilton. Five minutes,’ he demanded, giving them one last look of distaste before turning on his heel.
‘Holy fuck!’ breathed Dean. ‘I see what you mean about him being an arrogant twat. I thought it was justified yesterday when he found us in his office but he seems to have taken a dislike to both of us, maybe because of that. Everyone else who’s met him so far said that he’s lovely. Belinda described him as charming . . . as well as a few other adjectives, along with what she would do with him, given the chance. I’m sure you can imagine.’
Isla turned the corners of her mouth down. She’d seen Belinda openly ogling him so she could effortlessly imagine her comments. She couldn’t stand the double standards though. Xander could stand chatting to Belinda, keeping her from her work, but I can’t have a quick chat with Dean. That’s blatantly unfair.
So, in retaliation, she stayed in the bar chatting to an increasingly agitated Dean for a few minutes, telling him that she refused to jump to Xander’s tune no matter how much Dean pleaded with her not to stir up trouble. Then she strolled leisurely into the staff kitchen and made herself a latte before unhurriedly making her way back to her office.
She pushed open her door and almost dropped her coffee. Xander was seated in her chair, leaning forward, his elbows on her desk and his chin resting on the tip of his steepled fingers. Isla stood, frozen in the doorway. Neither moved. Stalemate.
Eventually, Xander’s eyes swept from her head to her toes, lingering on her most curvy asse
ts and making her feel naked once again. She gritted her teeth, determined not to show an outward response which she assumed was what he was attempting to provoke. If he hadn’t been sitting forward in her chair, she might well have brazenly returned the gesture, but her view was restricted. Frustrated, she inwardly railed at the audacity of the man, looking at her like that, choosing to ignore the fact that a tiny part of her enjoyed seeing the way his eyes drank in her voluptuous figure. She didn’t know how to respond so she simply stood there as if he was having no effect on her whatsoever.
When his eyes began to travel back up her body, she prepared herself for them reaching hers so she could show no reaction. However, when their eyes did meet, she felt the full force of his hunger. That’s exactly what it was. He wants me! He wants to rip my clothes off and take me anyway he can. No! He’d want to take me his way, and I’d bet my life that it would be fast, hard and totally euphoric. Her pussy clenched involuntarily at the thought of him – deep inside her. She felt heat spread from between her thighs and her nipples swell. She saw recognition in his eyes. Oh yeah, he knows what he’s doing all right.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Red,’ he declared. ‘Oh, I know you’d die before you’d admit it but I know exactly what you’re thinking.’ His voice was rich and deep, cocky yet seductive, having lost its usual hard edge.
She tried to laugh it off but she felt her cheeks flush. ‘Oh really. Do tell. What is it that you think I’m thinking, exactly?’
He raised his eyebrows slightly and nodded slowly. ‘Oh you’re good. Very good. I give you full marks for effort but you don’t fool me. I can read you like a book.’
‘Prove it,’ she challenged, walking over to her desk and leaning across it so that she was inches from his face. She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Tell me what I’m thinking right now.’
She could have hugged herself when she saw surprise register on his smug face, but he quickly recovered.