lasciviously.
“What’s your hurry, cupcake?” one called to her.
Cupcake? Really?
Pressing the elevator button, she drew in a deep cleansing breath, then released it slowly. She wasn’t alone. She was in a huge resort with hundreds of people surrounding her. There was no need to be afraid.
With a quiet ding , the doors slid open to welcome her into an empty elevator. Stepping inside, she immediately pushed the button for the sixteenth floor. What was his room number again? Her unsettled brain couldn’t think straight. What was it, what was it, what was it…
Ding. The doors slid efficiently open and she emerged into the quiet hallway. The suites on the sixteenth floor were reserved for wealthier guests, so there were no wild teenagers here. 1608. Yeah, that was it. Wasn’t it? It darn well better be. She’d feel ridiculous waking some random person in the middle of the night.
Even while she pounded on the door, Sami was gradually beginning to question whether or not she was overreacting. Okay, so somebody was lurking about on her patio, and in the middle of a storm, no less. But couldn’t it have just been a drunk guest wandering around? It wasn’t the height of spring break yet, but there were quite a few groups of students staying here already.
The door to 1608 opened and Asher stood there rubbing his eyes, hair rumpled, dressed in sleep pants and a t-shirt. The minute he recognized her and that lazy grin spread over his face, she knew she’d made a mistake.
“Well, well…to what do I owe this pleasure?” His voice was husky from sleep.
“I’m sorry to wake you up like this, Mr. Reid.”
“Ash,” he corrected her smoothly, resting his cheek leisurely against the door. “You in need of some company, sweetheart?”
Oh, so now it was Ash . Why had she come up here? In hindsight, it was the worst possible place she could have chosen. This macho pig of a man wasn’t going to sympathize with her. He’d probably laugh and call her a hysterical female.
Taking a deep breath , she told him, “Somebody was just messing around on my patio. Trying to open the door.” In an attempt to prove that the situation really was threatening, she added, “And I’ve been getting weird phone calls. At all hours of the night.”
The amorous look disappeared from his face and he frowned. “Did you call security?”
Security. God, she really was a nitwit. “No, I…didn’t think of it.”
“Come in.” He stood aside for her, and she reluctantly entered. The layout of his suite was similar to hers, if much larger than her modest one-bedroom unit. There was plush white carpet in the living area, and spotless white furniture. Apparently the guy had a hard-on for white. Everything looked expensive, too. Well, of course it would. Mr. Moneybags was part owner of a freakin’ resort, wasn’t he?
Ash was already on the phone. “Yes, that’s right. Room one twenty-two. I’m not sure, hang on one minute.” He looked at her. “Can you describe the person?”
“No, it was dark. All I could see was his outline.”
“No, it was too dark,” he told the person on the phone. “Okay. Okay, I appreciate it.” Hanging up the phone, he ordered her, “Wait right here. I’ll throw on some clothes and we’ll go have a look, all right?”
“All right.” She was surprised that he was taking her seriously, though perhaps she shouldn’t be. Underneath his conceited exterior there had to be an efficient, intelligent businessman. How else would he have climbed to where he was now?
When he returned, he was dressed in a pair of tan beachcomber pants and a loose white linen shirt. He didn’t bother with shoes. Jesus, even his feet were attractive. It wasn’t hard to imagine that he probably went for regular pedicures. “After you,” he said, holding the door open for her.
Once they were in the elevator, he asked, “What do you mean by ‘weird phone calls’? Who’s been calling you?”
“I don’t know,” she
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