them?”
“Usually.” Everyone except his family.
“Great.” Casey turned to the maid. “Don’t worry, Ria, we’ll help you.”
The girl sobbed something incoherent in Spanish.
“Casey...” Adam murmured. Her eyes met his, wide with innocent inquiry. He jerked his head meaningfully at the maid. Counting on the girl not understanding, or being too upset to listen, he said, “Emotional blackmail.”
Casey bristled. “Poor Ria hasn’t seen her fiancé in six months. He doesn’t have a U.S. work permit, so he’s stuck in Mexico. I’d be crying, too.”
“Did she ask you to help?” The girl had a nerve—Adam would complain to the hotel management.
“Of course not,” Casey said, affronted on the maid’s behalf. “I offered.”
That was even worse.
“What happened to being selfish?” he demanded.
“I can’t be that selfish.”
“This—” he meant their plan “—won’t work if you don’t.”
Before he could stop her, Casey phoned the manager and invited him up to the suite. When he arrived, she asked him to apply for a work permit for the maid’s boyfriend and give him a job. “My husband and I would be so grateful,” she said, with what Adam conceded was an impressively straight face. And when the manager appeared less than willing, she grasped his hands and pleaded with him.
With Casey holding his hands and batting her eyelashes, what else could the guy do but agree?
The maid was ecstatic, the manager thrilled to have earned Casey’s glowing smile. Adam found himself tipping the girl what he imagined would be half a week’s wages. Which totally went against his policy of giving generously through organized charities. He suspected his sole motivation was to earn the same kind of approval from Casey that the manager had.
Why should I care what Casey thinks of me?
“See how easy that was?” she said, when they had the suite to themselves again. She beamed that wide smile he was coming to associate with her, an open smile that drew people to her with their problems and melted the hearts of hotel managers.
He wondered if it was a form of manipulation, and the thought provoked him. “What I see,” he said, “is that you’re as good at dealing out emotional blackmail as you are at taking it. You pressured that manager into something that’s most likely against his job ethics.”
When Casey put a hand to her mouth, stricken, he felt no satisfaction.
* * *
A DAM WOKE FROM AN UNEASY sleep on the couch in the middle of the night on Sunday. Make that Monday. The digital display on the clock across the room glowed 1:30 a.m.
He heard it again, the noise that must have woken him. A cry from upstairs.
Casey.
He pushed the sheet aside, rolled off the couch and grabbed his pants from the back of the chair. He hauled them on, then headed upstairs.
“Casey?” he called softly, noting she’d left the door ajar.
He snapped on the landing light and pushed the door open.
She lay sprawled in the center of the king-size bed, the duvet twisted across her lower body. Her top half was bare save for a strappy, satin confection in turquoise, which he guessed she’d chosen for her wedding night.
She didn’t stir; whatever dream had disturbed her must have ended. Adam’s mouth went dry and he felt like a voyeur. But, hell, how could any red-blooded man not notice Casey was gorgeous, even fully dressed? And Adam was as red-blooded as the next man. He also happened to be married to her.
Don’t go there.
His marriage to Casey was strictly business. As they said on the infomercials: No Obligation, For a Limited Time Only. Of course, on those infomercials, they also said Satisfaction Guaranteed....
Damn. Adam pulled the door shut with a click that hopefully hadn’t woken her, and went back to his couch.
And didn’t sleep.
* * *
M ONDAY , Adam’s favorite day of the week, found him overtired, overstressed and even more relieved than normal that the weekend had ended.
If he’d
“Usually.” Everyone except his family.
“Great.” Casey turned to the maid. “Don’t worry, Ria, we’ll help you.”
The girl sobbed something incoherent in Spanish.
“Casey...” Adam murmured. Her eyes met his, wide with innocent inquiry. He jerked his head meaningfully at the maid. Counting on the girl not understanding, or being too upset to listen, he said, “Emotional blackmail.”
Casey bristled. “Poor Ria hasn’t seen her fiancé in six months. He doesn’t have a U.S. work permit, so he’s stuck in Mexico. I’d be crying, too.”
“Did she ask you to help?” The girl had a nerve—Adam would complain to the hotel management.
“Of course not,” Casey said, affronted on the maid’s behalf. “I offered.”
That was even worse.
“What happened to being selfish?” he demanded.
“I can’t be that selfish.”
“This—” he meant their plan “—won’t work if you don’t.”
Before he could stop her, Casey phoned the manager and invited him up to the suite. When he arrived, she asked him to apply for a work permit for the maid’s boyfriend and give him a job. “My husband and I would be so grateful,” she said, with what Adam conceded was an impressively straight face. And when the manager appeared less than willing, she grasped his hands and pleaded with him.
With Casey holding his hands and batting her eyelashes, what else could the guy do but agree?
The maid was ecstatic, the manager thrilled to have earned Casey’s glowing smile. Adam found himself tipping the girl what he imagined would be half a week’s wages. Which totally went against his policy of giving generously through organized charities. He suspected his sole motivation was to earn the same kind of approval from Casey that the manager had.
Why should I care what Casey thinks of me?
“See how easy that was?” she said, when they had the suite to themselves again. She beamed that wide smile he was coming to associate with her, an open smile that drew people to her with their problems and melted the hearts of hotel managers.
He wondered if it was a form of manipulation, and the thought provoked him. “What I see,” he said, “is that you’re as good at dealing out emotional blackmail as you are at taking it. You pressured that manager into something that’s most likely against his job ethics.”
When Casey put a hand to her mouth, stricken, he felt no satisfaction.
* * *
A DAM WOKE FROM AN UNEASY sleep on the couch in the middle of the night on Sunday. Make that Monday. The digital display on the clock across the room glowed 1:30 a.m.
He heard it again, the noise that must have woken him. A cry from upstairs.
Casey.
He pushed the sheet aside, rolled off the couch and grabbed his pants from the back of the chair. He hauled them on, then headed upstairs.
“Casey?” he called softly, noting she’d left the door ajar.
He snapped on the landing light and pushed the door open.
She lay sprawled in the center of the king-size bed, the duvet twisted across her lower body. Her top half was bare save for a strappy, satin confection in turquoise, which he guessed she’d chosen for her wedding night.
She didn’t stir; whatever dream had disturbed her must have ended. Adam’s mouth went dry and he felt like a voyeur. But, hell, how could any red-blooded man not notice Casey was gorgeous, even fully dressed? And Adam was as red-blooded as the next man. He also happened to be married to her.
Don’t go there.
His marriage to Casey was strictly business. As they said on the infomercials: No Obligation, For a Limited Time Only. Of course, on those infomercials, they also said Satisfaction Guaranteed....
Damn. Adam pulled the door shut with a click that hopefully hadn’t woken her, and went back to his couch.
And didn’t sleep.
* * *
M ONDAY , Adam’s favorite day of the week, found him overtired, overstressed and even more relieved than normal that the weekend had ended.
If he’d
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