she’d put it to good use. She and Nick would enjoy a good steak dinner together and then…on to dessert.
NICK STOOD TO ONE SIDE of the window that took up most of a wall in his room at the Magnolia, binoculars trained on the loft apartment slightly below and to his right. In the three hours since Ellen Wittier had arrived home and he had checked into the hotel she’d changed into a sexy, expensive looking pair of lounging pajamas and had set the table with china and candles for what looked to be a romantic dinner.
When she’d leaned over and lit the candles, Nick’s heart had sped up. He knew it! Once again, his instincts had been right. With her husband safely away at a convention in Reno, Ellen was making her move.
But now, almost an hour later, he wondered at her lover’s tardiness. The candles were dripping wax on the tablecloth and Ellen was on her second glass of wine. Why was her Romeo keeping her waiting?
A knock on the door roused him from his musings. He glanced at the door, then at the clock—six forty-five. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so it was probably someone with the wrong room. He turned back to the window and raised the binoculars again.
“Nick, open up. It’s me, Lexie.”
Frowning, he laid aside the binoculars and went to check the door. Sure enough, Lexie was standing in the hall, looking up at the peephole, her face distorted by the fish-eye lens. He undid the locks and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I came to see you.” She moved past him into the room, and set her purse on the bedside table. “Nice room,” she said, looking around.
“I don’t have time to visit,” he said. “I’m working.”
She walked to the window and looked out. “Which one is the Wittiers’ loft?”
“Top floor on the right.” He came to stand behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She was wearing a halter dress made of some clingy red material. Her shoulders were bare, her skin soft and warm. He ignored the tightening in his groin when he touched her. “Move back from the window a little. I don’t want her to see us.”
She did as he asked, colliding with him as she stepped back, sending shock waves of awareness through him. She leaned her head back and her hair brushed against his face, filling his nose with the scent of flowers.
He released her and quickly moved away. “Why are you here?” he asked again.
She walked to the bed and sat, crossing her legs. The skirt of her dress was slit at the side, revealing a long expanse of thigh. “I kept thinking of you up here, all alone, with this king-size bed.” She smoothed her hand along the bedspread.
He looked away, breathing heavy. Seeing her sitting on the bed this way was only a short leap from imagining her stretched out on it. Naked. “I’m working,” he said again. He was repeating himself, but his brain couldn’t manage more, considering most of his blood had flowed south.
“Has anything interesting happened yet?”
Other than you showing up here like this? He shook his head. “She came home, changed into a sexy outfit, set the stage for a romantic dinner and poured the wine, but so far her lover’s failed to show.”
She stood and went to the window again, careful this time to keep back. “Maybe she’s not waiting on anyone. Maybe she’s just entertaining herself.”
“Check again. There are two places set at the table.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Right.” She turned away from the window. “Any idea who she’s meeting?”
He shook his head. “Her husband didn’t know, either.”
Another knock on the door interrupted him. So much for laying low. “Who is it?” he called.
“Room service.”
“I didn’t order any—”
“I ordered it.” Lexie hurried to the door.
A waiter wheeled in a table topped with covered dishes, a vase of flowers, a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Would you like me to open the wine?” he asked.
“Yes, please,” Lexie said. While he did that, she checked under the metal covers. Steam rose from the plates and the aroma of grilled steaks made Nick’s mouth water.
She signed for the meal, then closed the door behind the waiter. When they were alone again, she turned to Nick. “I thought you might be hungry,” she said.
She flicked her tongue along her bottom lip, reminding him of all the things he was hungry for. He checked on Ellen Wittier again, trying to compose himself. She was pouring her third glass of wine, slumped at the table, watching the candles drip.
“Come sit down,” Lexie beckoned him. “Have some wine.”
He sat in the desk chair, but she perched on the edge of the bed, the light from the lamp mounted on the headboard spotlighting her. The neck of her dress was low, revealing the swell of her breasts. When she leaned forward to remove the covers from the plates, he had a tantalizing glimpse of one shadowed nipple. He immediately grew hard, and hurried to spread the napkin across his lap to hide his arousal.
The steak was tender and juicy, but he scarcely tasted it, too distracted by his dinner companion.
“Where is Mr. Wittier this weekend?” she asked halfway through the meal.
“Reno. At a convention. According to the schedule he gave me he was originally supposed to fly home tonight, but he sent word yesterday that his plans had changed and he intended to stay over.”
“And that’s when you decided to book this room?”
He nodded. “I knew his wife wouldn’t pass up the chance to spend a whole night with her lover.”
“As far as you know, she’s never spent any time with this phantom lover.”
“I haven’t seen him yet, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. Who else is she dressing up for tonight?”
She glanced toward the window. “He’s not a very considerate lover, standing her up this way.”
“Maybe he’s cheating on his wife and couldn’t get away.”
She frowned. “You think he’s married?”
“It happens. All the time.”
“I suppose this job gives you a pretty jaded view of relationships between men and women, doesn’t it?”
“I prefer to think of it as realistic.”
“Don’t you believe two people can be happy together without hurting each other?”
“I wouldn’t say I didn’t believe it. I just haven’t known it to happen often. ‘Happily-ever-after’ occurs in fiction a lot more than in real life.”
“What about ‘happy-for-right-now’?” She laid aside her fork and looked at him. “What about two people enjoying each other for the moment and not worrying about what might happen a few months or even a few weeks from now?”
He took a long drink of wine, weighing his answer. He knew what she was getting at. Here, in this intimate setting, with Lexie so warm and willing and only inches from him, and another woman in the building across the way, alone and crying without her husband or her lover to comfort her, all of his old arguments about working together or not working together didn’t seem to matter. Tonight, those objections were reduced to one question: Did he want to spend another night alone?
No, he didn’t. He wanted to welcome this woman, whom he’d been lusting after for weeks, into his arms and his bed.
He pushed the table away and stood, looming over her. She tilted her head back and met his gaze. “You know I want you,” he said.
“Then I’m yours,” she