Walking to the other end of the mall dragging Shylah was not something he wanted to do, but that’s where his car was parked. He did a mental calculation of his overall budget. He might have to skip the electric bill, but he thought he could swing the rent…if nothing else came up requiring money. Luckily his plane ticket was round trip.
“Would you like the room, sir?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” He mourned over his credit card as he handed it to the clerk. “Is it two doubles?”
The clerk paused before running the card through the machine. “No, a king. There are no doubles left.”
Gabe groaned but gestured for him to go ahead with swiping the card.
Minutes later, they were on the third floor walking down a curvy hall, with Gabe wondering where the hell the room was. The hallway was endless, with the expanse of beige carpeting broken only by the occasional room service tray awaiting pick-up. They rounded a corner and finally he saw their room number. He pulled out the swipe card.
“Where are we going?” Shylah asked, stopping dead, pulling free from Gabe. Good, the alcohol was moving through her system.
“We’re staying here for the night.”
“I am not. I’m going home.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me what we’ve talked about since leaving the restaurant, specifically any questions I’ve asked you.”
She blinked, opened her mouth and closed it again. “I told you where my car was parked.”
“Good. What else?”
“How should I know? You weren’t very exciting.” She looked down suddenly. “My purse…”
“Is on your shoulder. You’re fine, but you can’t drive.”
“Yes I can.”
Gabe snatched her purse before it occurred to her to pull out her keys.
“Hey!”
He swiped the key card, saw the light turn green, then went inside, pulling Shylah after him.
As soon as the door closed she slipped into the bathroom and didn’t come out for five minutes, but he didn’t hear any heaving so she wasn’t being sick, a good sign. Wine tended to give people headaches rather than stomach aches, didn’t it? Had he ever been really drunk on just wine? Now, his uncle’s aguardiente , that had knocked him on his ass on more than one occasion.
“Feel better now?” he asked when she emerged from the bathroom with a freshly scrubbed face.
She glared at him. “You did this to me! What did you put in my drink?”
“Nada! You can blame me for the dinner and the wine, but I didn’t put anything in it and you’re the one who couldn’t tell when to stop.”
“You should have done it for me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked five years old…only a bit bustier.
“Are you a child?”
She humpfed and sat on the bed, since Gabe sat in the desk chair. “You could’ve taken me home in your car.”
“I considered that, but you said you had to be at work at eleven a.m. It seemed easier to stay here.”
“Easier for you, maybe.”
Yeah, easier for him, but not cheaper for him. He’d probably be kicking himself in the morning.
* * * * *
Shylah bit her lip to keep the nausea at bay. Then a pain stabbed through her forehead, so she pressed her finger against it, willing it to go away. She had aspirin in her purse, but Gabe hadn’t relinquished that yet.
She should have stopped at one glass. Wine didn’t set well with her. She suspected she was allergic to one of the preservatives, because she did seem to have better luck with organic wines. But she knew why she hadn’t stopped at one glass, and it wasn’t just to fortify herself against Gabe’s interrogation. She’d been fighting her attraction to Gabe, while her libido was telling her screw that. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and every bone in her body wanted to jump this hot, yummy, delicious man.
Gabe opened her purse, and, without looking, dug out her keys and pocketed them. “Here’s your purse.”
“You suck, and I still think you planned this. Did I say something
“Would you like the room, sir?”
“Yeah, go ahead.” He mourned over his credit card as he handed it to the clerk. “Is it two doubles?”
The clerk paused before running the card through the machine. “No, a king. There are no doubles left.”
Gabe groaned but gestured for him to go ahead with swiping the card.
Minutes later, they were on the third floor walking down a curvy hall, with Gabe wondering where the hell the room was. The hallway was endless, with the expanse of beige carpeting broken only by the occasional room service tray awaiting pick-up. They rounded a corner and finally he saw their room number. He pulled out the swipe card.
“Where are we going?” Shylah asked, stopping dead, pulling free from Gabe. Good, the alcohol was moving through her system.
“We’re staying here for the night.”
“I am not. I’m going home.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Tell me what we’ve talked about since leaving the restaurant, specifically any questions I’ve asked you.”
She blinked, opened her mouth and closed it again. “I told you where my car was parked.”
“Good. What else?”
“How should I know? You weren’t very exciting.” She looked down suddenly. “My purse…”
“Is on your shoulder. You’re fine, but you can’t drive.”
“Yes I can.”
Gabe snatched her purse before it occurred to her to pull out her keys.
“Hey!”
He swiped the key card, saw the light turn green, then went inside, pulling Shylah after him.
As soon as the door closed she slipped into the bathroom and didn’t come out for five minutes, but he didn’t hear any heaving so she wasn’t being sick, a good sign. Wine tended to give people headaches rather than stomach aches, didn’t it? Had he ever been really drunk on just wine? Now, his uncle’s aguardiente , that had knocked him on his ass on more than one occasion.
“Feel better now?” he asked when she emerged from the bathroom with a freshly scrubbed face.
She glared at him. “You did this to me! What did you put in my drink?”
“Nada! You can blame me for the dinner and the wine, but I didn’t put anything in it and you’re the one who couldn’t tell when to stop.”
“You should have done it for me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked five years old…only a bit bustier.
“Are you a child?”
She humpfed and sat on the bed, since Gabe sat in the desk chair. “You could’ve taken me home in your car.”
“I considered that, but you said you had to be at work at eleven a.m. It seemed easier to stay here.”
“Easier for you, maybe.”
Yeah, easier for him, but not cheaper for him. He’d probably be kicking himself in the morning.
* * * * *
Shylah bit her lip to keep the nausea at bay. Then a pain stabbed through her forehead, so she pressed her finger against it, willing it to go away. She had aspirin in her purse, but Gabe hadn’t relinquished that yet.
She should have stopped at one glass. Wine didn’t set well with her. She suspected she was allergic to one of the preservatives, because she did seem to have better luck with organic wines. But she knew why she hadn’t stopped at one glass, and it wasn’t just to fortify herself against Gabe’s interrogation. She’d been fighting her attraction to Gabe, while her libido was telling her screw that. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and every bone in her body wanted to jump this hot, yummy, delicious man.
Gabe opened her purse, and, without looking, dug out her keys and pocketed them. “Here’s your purse.”
“You suck, and I still think you planned this. Did I say something
Similar Books
