Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Negroni,” he says to Julio as he perches on the stool, resting his forearms on the bar so the overhead bar lights shine down on his hands. I’ve seen this move endless times before. A subtle demonstration that there’s no ring. He doesn’t know that I already spotted that, except I didn’t have the benefit of light on his hands then. And I do now.
“When did you remove it?” I ask, tapping the base of my glass with my fingertip.
“Excuse me?”
“Your ring. Was it off before you saw me, or did you take it off before you decided to come over?”
Laughing under his breath, he starts doing the motions, spinning the wedding band that isn’t there. “Caught red-handed.”
“American?” I ask.
“New York.”
“Here on business?”
“And now stranded.”
“How inconvenient,” I murmur, crossing one leg over the other and turning slightly toward him.
“I thought so too until a few minutes ago.” His eyes drop down my seated body as he extends a hand. “Hugh.”
I laugh on the inside at the irony. “Camryn,” I say, accepting and shaking. “That’s a strong shake.”
“Touché.” He narrows his eyes, my hand still in his, his unspoken intentions clear.
“You’re staying here?” I ask.
Julio clears his throat and places two fresh drinks on the bar. “Would you like me to charge these to your room, Mr. Colton?”
“Yes, good man.” Huge takes a cool sip of his drink. “Six-one-eight.”
“Subtle,” I say quietly, laughing to myself. “What do you do?”
“Financial technology. You?”
“CFO.”
He can’t hide his surprise, or his delight. “Really?”
“That doesn’t make us kindred spirits.”
He lets out a bark of laughter, caressing the rim of his short, fat glass with his fingertip in slow circles. “You’re very intriguing.”
“Don’t be intrigued, Hugh. It’s dangerous.”
His smile slowly drops as he casts his eyes my way. “How many men have been intrigued by you, Camryn?”
“Enough for me to know what I’m doing.” Not enough for me to be cured.
Two small leather folders are placed before us, courtesy of Julio, and I watch, expressionless, as Hugh scribbles his signature in his first, before helping himself to mine. Flicking me a look annoyingly on the edge of self-assuredness, he stands. “Excuse me while I use the men’s.” I watch him stride away, my top lip sucked between my teeth, and I rest back on my stool, contemplating. Questioning.
Hesitating.
He’s married.
It grates on me. Do I want to sleep with Hugh? No. Should I? No.
Will I?
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say, catching Julio’s mild look of disapproval. “I don’t touch married men.” He’s observed me many times in recent years. He knows this.
His eyebrows lift. “So you’re just leading him on?”
“He deserves it.” I give him a sardonic smile. “You can watch him wilt when he realises I’m not going to follow him up to room six-one-eight. You can make me another martini now. Maybe a single guy will show up soon.”
Julio shakes his head and pulls the vodka off the glass shelf. “I have a feeling the disappointment will be real.”
“Really?” I ask. “Why? Because I dazzled him with my charm? Swooned all over him? Made hi—”
“Indirectly promised him a night of sex with no strings attached.”
I pause for thought and then nod mildly in agreement. “Every sex-deprived, married man’s dream.”
“But what about the single men?”
“They’re usually emotionally unavailable.” Except Dec. I flinch and check the progress of my next drink.
“You’re a stunning woman, Camryn,” Julio says, surprising me. “I’m just being honest here, okay?”
“Okay,” I say slowly, quite sure I’m not going to want to hear this.
“You’re obviously smart, confident, successful, and very intriguing.”
And utterly fucking broken. None of them see that part. Except Dec. Julio starts shaking my drink, and it can’t come soon enough. The moment the sound of ice crashing against the metal stops, he pushes a clean glass toward me and pours, eyes on his task. “Men love those qualities, but many don’t want to marry them.”
“They just want to fuck them,” I murmur, just as he looks past me.
“There’s sometimes the odd exception who wants to go deeper.” His eyes come back to me. “I’ll leave you to your third martini.” And he goes to the sink and washes the shaker as I stare at my drink for a few moments, my spine tingling.
I eventually bring myself to look over my shoulder.
Dec’s at the entrance, slap bang in the middle of the open double doors, eyes like spears aimed my way. “I had a feeling.” His voice is deep and grainy, as if his vocal cords are straining, a certain edge of darkness dripping from his tone I’m sure I should be wary of.
And I am.
He looks somewhere between anger and disappointment, like a parent who’s dealing with an errant child. My hackles rise. He had a feeling? Endless retorts run amok in my mind, not one of them willing to come forward. The collar of his navy coat is turned up, flakes of snow dusting his shoulders and hair.