The Lover’s Secret (No Exceptions #1)(3)
Author: J.C. Reed

“I can offer you that and more, Miss Stewart. All you have to do is join me in my room, which is conveniently located upstairs.”

I forced a scowl. I knew I should try harder to brush him off, but there was something about him that entranced me, and it was more than just the promise of getting what I had come for. I was captivated by his voice, his touch, and the hard masculinity of his body.

Fight, Stewart. You’re giving in too soon, too easily.

I moistened my suddenly parched lips and smiled. “I know what kind of man you are.”

He lifted his eyebrows in mock interest, but said nothing.

“What makes you think I’d choose you when there’s a whole club full of potential suitors?” I asked. “Maybe I’m looking for a neat guy, a nice guy, who doesn’t usually break the rules, someone conventional and not hell bent on winning another set of panties.”

He chuckled, his eyes still on me. “Because you can sense my secret,” he whispered. “I never disappoint. One night with me will give you the kind of excitement that lasts a lifetime. While I cannot promise that you’ll climax just once and not want more, I can promise you an unforgettable night, Miss Stewart—an incomparable night, I might add, and your only regret will be every second we wasted without sex.”

Oh boy!

His confidence was so huge it ought to be listed as the world’s biggest in Guinness Records. But was it working? Hell, yeah. It was working far better than I wanted to admit. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him pull out a keycard from his pocket and place it in my hand.

“Room 521,” he said with a smirk. “Be there in twenty.”

“I’m not coming.” I shook my head, just in case he hadn’t heard my weak voice.

He smiled, revealing sexy dimples that urged me to touch them. “Of course you will…and I promise I won’t bind you to my bedpost, at least not for the entire night.”

The mere suggestion aroused me, and judging from the way his lips were twitching at the corners, I was sure he knew that and was feeling the same way.

“Twenty minutes.” With that, he picked up his coat and left.

Craning my neck, I followed his broad shoulders. Only after he disappeared in the crowd did I turn around. A laugh escaped my lips.

“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath and stood from my bar stool.

He wasn’t just eye candy. He was pure sex, a conjurer of wicked naughtiness. He was a paradise for lady sinners, and I was about to be one of them. I knew it just as well as he did.

Of course I’d join him. After all, a bet was a bet, but first I’d let him simmer a bit, let him think I had ditched him. Maybe my resistance would put a little dent in that big ego of his. I was certain he was completely self-assured I’d play along and join him in his room. Maybe he had kept his voice low on purpose, so I’d chase after him, go in search of him, or whatever would give his ego another boost. Maybe he thought there were no exceptions to his rules, but things would be different today. Today, I was going to be the only exception to his game, because I had no intention of losing to the likes of him.

Chapter 3

One of the most interesting things in life was the certainty that nothing would ever remain dull for too long; sooner or later, the unpredictable happened. The trick was standing aside long enough, watching how a set of things and people came together in random patterns that weren’t really so random at all, and witnessing how that collision resulted in a burst of new experiences for everyone involved. Good or bad, those experiences brought failure or winning a new meaning.

Just like the green-eyed guy who would be my date for the night.

At least that was what I thought when I headed for the bathroom to reapply my makeup and regain some of my composure. With one last glance in the mirror, I took a deep breath and walked out.

Now that I had his attention, it was time to move to Plan B.

The lobby had filled with evening guests. Turning a corner, I almost bumped into a man who was standing near a big palm tree planted in a massive fiberglass flowerpot.

“Sorry,” I muttered and turned away when he looked up from his newspaper and, as our eyes met, a sudden shudder ran down my spine.

He was dressed in a striped business suit. His dark brown hair was parted perfectly, combed neatly to one side. While his somewhat old-fashioned hairstyle and affordable looking clothes weren’t the reason for my ignited attention, I couldn’t stop the sudden alarm ringing inside my head because of the way he regarded me. Most people barely paid me a fleeting look; some guys checked me out. But this man’s glance was different. It was a little too sharp, too hard. It was almost as if…

No, don’t go there, Stewart.

I stifled my paranoia. Too many bad things had happened. It was time to let go because it was over. So what if a man had looked at me in a weird way? That didn’t mean he was a bad guy. No one would ever come after me again. Now, if I could only just believe it…

As if sensing my unease, he returned his attention to his newspaper and continued to read whatever he’d been reading before. An instant later, a woman joined him, and relief washed over me. Probably his wife, I figured from the way she kissed him on the cheek, and together they walked to the reception desk, their arms linked, their chatter indistinguishable.

Stupid paranoia.

It had happened before, and it just kept happening. For the umpteenth time, I pondered whether or not I should pay my therapist another visit. The trouble was, I hadn’t seen him for eight years, and I still felt guilty over the way I had so abruptly broken off our sessions when I decided I was strong enough to deal with the issues of my past myself. He had insisted I wasn’t ready, but I had brushed off his concerns, claiming he didn’t know me as well as he thought he did. Yet, on a subconscious level, I knew even then that he was right. But I wanted to feel normal, and if I visited a shrink again, it would be like admitting to myself that I was corrupted. Branded. Damaged beyond repair.

Since I couldn’t bring myself to visit him again, the best thing I could do for the time being was remember his advice: “Try to focus on the things that feel real, things you can grasp.” The hotel seemed like a good start. Taking three deep breaths, I forced my mind to let go of my mistrust of the people around me and instead focused on my surroundings.

Passing through another hall, I marveled at the exquisiteness and luxury of the place. The TRIO wasn’t just one of the most expensive hotels in New York City. Rising over Manhattan’s premier shopping and business districts, it was a popular see-and-be-seen place for the rich and famous. From the huge indoor water fountains and the magnificent crystal chandeliers hanging from backlit onyx ceilings to the stunning displays of each hall I passed, I realized calling it an image of perfection was no overstatement.