He grabbed her suitcase and headed toward his door.
Five
Fresh from a much needed hot shower that went a long way toward loosening the tense kinks in her neck, Maddie ran a quick brush through her damp hair then wrapped herself in the thick, luxuriously soft terry cloth robe provided by the hotel. Although she’d arrived at the resort later than she’d planned, it was still early enough to change into her Catch a Fireman Dress and scope out the bar. While she dressed, she’d peruse Emma’s pep talk note and the copy of Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover her best friend had given her for encouragement. And hope her nerve didn’t desert her.
When she exited the bathroom her gaze fell on the minibar and she realized she was hungry. Really hungry. The meager salad she’d eaten for dinner at her desk was long gone. Drat. Anything she ate now would permanently adhere itself to her hips. Oh, well. That’s what treadmills were for.
She selected the bag of peanut M &M’s and popped one in her mouth while unzipping her suitcase. If she found her one-night stand tonight she wouldn’t get much sleep before her orienteering outing. Ugh. At six a.m. Double ugh. With Jack Walker. Triple ugh.
His words echoed in her ears. Some of us have a life outside the job. Arrogant ass. No wonder he’d checked in so late-probably had an entire roster of women he’d had to appease. Well, she had a life outside her job, too. One that was going to get much more exciting this weekend courtesy of some as of yet unknown fireman.
In anticipation of seeing her newly purchased lingerie, she flipped open the suitcase lid. And stared. At what had to be the rattiest looking T-shirt she’d ever seen. She could tell by the tomahawk it was a Braves shirt, but the lettering was so faded, it read 3 aves. What the heck? She moved aside the T-shirt. Okay, who had taken Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover and exchanged it for How to Find Your Soul Mate? Gone was her slinky lingerie and condoms. In their place was a huge pair of sneakers and a slim hardback entitled Dealing with Your Four-Year-Old.
Clearly this was the wrong suitca-
She closed her eyes and clapped a hand against her head.
Oh, God.
The bellhop must have mixed up her bag with Jack’s. She slapped the lid closed and looked at the brand label. Yup. Same exact bag. Which meant that he had her bag. Her bag filled with condoms. And lingerie. And sexy reading material.
And Emma’s note revealing her one-night stand plans.
Heat crept up her neck, instantly annoying her. So what if he saw all that? It was none of his damn business. She reached for the tab to pull the zipper closed, but hesitated as she recalled the titles of the two books she’d seen. Surely she must be mistaken. Compelled by a curiosity she didn’t quite understand, she opened the lid again.
Clearly the man was a Braves fan, but that was hardly surprising. No, it was his reading material that had her doing a double take. She would have expected dog-eared copies of men’s magazines featuring scantily clad women. Jack Walker, aka the Lunchtime Boffing Machine, certainly didn’t strike her as the sort of man to read How to Find Your Soul Mate. Even more surprising was the guide on raising a four-year-old. Jack had a child? Based on office gossip she knew he wasn’t married. She hadn’t considered he’d be a father.
“It’s none of my business, and who cares anyway?” she muttered, closing the lid and taking firm hold of the zipper tab. Although even as the words passed her lips, she couldn’t squelch her curiosity. Those books definitely didn’t fit her image of Jack Walker. Not that it mattered. She was just… surprised. And the sooner she rid herself of his suitcase and reclaimed her own, the better off she’d be.
She looked down at herself and grimaced. She had no desire to knock on Jack’s door wearing nothing other than the fluffy robe, but neither did she want to change back into her suit. Besides, the fact that he hadn’t already knocked on her door meant he probably hadn’t opened her suitcase yet. Which would certainly save her some embarrassment. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, but still. The thought of Jack Walker seeing her sexy lingerie filled her with an unsettling warmth she didn’t care to examine too closely. Besides, the robe was hardly sexy-it was as see-through as cement and covered her from chin to shin.
After slipping her key card into her pocket, she headed toward the door, dragging the evil twin to her suitcase behind her. She crossed the hall and firmly knocked on the door to room 314. The door opened so quickly, she wondered if he’d been standing right there.
“The bellhop mixed up our…” Her words trailed off as her gaze zeroed in on the slice of bare male chest visible courtesy of his untucked, unbuttoned dress shirt. She blinked. Wow. Nice view. One that made her fingers itch to reach out and pull the sides of his shirt wider apart for a better look. Whatever else might be on his busy social calendar, Jack Walker’s pecs and abs proved he carved out enough time to keep in shape. Really good shape.
A dusting of dark chest hair narrowed to an ebony ribbon that bisected his muscle-ridged abdomen then disappeared beneath the waistband of his charcoal gray pants-a deliciously masculine, yet silky looking trail she had the sudden urge to follow. With her tongue.
Yikes! Where had that thought come from? Obviously from the murky depths of her sexual drought, which was causing hallucinations. She tried to raise her gaze back to his, really she did, but her eyeballs seemed to have developed a mind of their own, one that wanted to continue meandering downward. Over his charcoal gray dress pants that were… dear God, unbuttoned. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone totally dry. Her gaze continued downward, over his long legs, down to his black dress socks that covered his large feet. You know what they say about men with large feet, Maddie.
Heat whooshed through her and she managed, through sheer force of will, to yank her errant eyeballs upward. But that didn’t help. Between the five o’clock shadow shading his square jaw, the way his hair was rumpled as if by a woman’s impatient fingers, and his casually unfastened clothing, he looked more deliciously decadent than a triple fudge brownie. Just going by the law of averages, at some point in her life she’d most likely seen a sexier man, but darned if she could remember who that man might have been. If the CFO gig didn’t work out for him, he could step in and do People magazine’s Sexiest Man Alive issue.
Then annoyance kicked in. What the heck was wrong with her? There were tons of sexy men around. Right here in this very hotel. This very weekend.
This one standing right in front of us will do very nicely, her suddenly vocal and wide awake hormones chimed in.
Right. This one standing in front of her who was looking at her as if he’d never seen her before. Irritation rippled through her-thank God, because it managed to tamp down the lust that had grabbed her by the throat. So she didn’t look all put together. So her hair was still damp and no doubt looked as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. So while he looked sexy and delicious, she looked like she’d been dragged behind a bus. So what? Didn’t mean he had to look at her like she’d sprouted devil horns and a third eye.