Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(29)
The W Hotel on Lexington Avenue is located near both the Waldorf Astoria and Intercontinental, two favorite hotels of our own president and of foreign heads of state. As such, it’s the perfect location to house our agents when necessary. The agency has a very good working relationship with the hotel staff, and I’d personally made some friends there over the years.
That fact would explain the loud, “Well, well, well” that carried across the entire lobby upon my arrival.
I turned toward the greeting, both unwilling and unable to hold back my grin. “Well, yourself,” I shot back. “Looking pretty good.” I allowed my eyes to sweep up and down the curvaceous form of my personal welcoming committee, lingering very obviously on specific parts of her anatomy.
Allison’s eyes shot from me to the woman heckling me, but the ringing of her cell phone spared me any commentary. She walked a few paces away to take the call in relative privacy while I rested my hands on my hips and waited.
The blond woman headed my way snorted as she approached and rolled her hazel eyes theatrically. She made a show of fluffing her hair and sweeping nonexistent lint off her impeccably pressed uniform. Her general manager’s nametag gleamed brightly under the lobby lights.
“Pretty good? Please. I look fabulous, as usual. And stop trying to butter me up. I got your text.” Her tone was dry, but her eyes were shining, so I knew she wasn’t really as annoyed as she pretended. “That’s always the way with you agents. We don’t hear from you for months, and when we finally do, it’s only because you want something.”
“Oh, come on, Stace. That is so not true. I asked you out to dinner just last week.” I paused as I rethought that statement. “Or maybe it was two weeks ago? I think last week I was on Trinidad. Anyway, whenever it was, I didn’t want anything from you then aside from the pleasure of your company.”
“Really?”
“Of course, really. What else would I want?”
Stacey shrugged, but I recognized the mischievous gleam in her eye all too well. It always meant trouble. “Oh, come on, Ryan. We both know you’re hopelessly attracted to me. Why deny it any longer?”
I scoffed. “We do, huh?”
“We do. And I’m flattered. Really. But you know I’m happily married. Besides, I just don’t think I could get on board with the whole woman scene.”
“The hearts of lesbian and bi-curious women everywhere are breaking.” She was such a trip.
She went on airily, almost as if I hadn’t spoken. “Even if I were inclined to make all your wildest dreams come true and give the girl-on-girl thing a shot, Jeff would be devastated. You know he called first dibs on you. And I don’t think he’d want to share you, even with me.”
I bit back a laugh, unsure, as I always was, whether Stacey really was that cocky or whether she was just messing with me. I really hoped it was the latter. “That’s a damn shame. And as attractive as I think your husband is—you know, for a guy—he just doesn’t do it for me. But don’t tell him that, okay?”
She laughed at my joke, and her gaze slid over to Allison, who had her back to us and was giving no sign of paying any attention to our banter. “Speaking of attractive.”
My chest was suddenly tight, and my face burned as my eyes flicked to the woman in question. I clenched my teeth together for an instant before making a conscious effort to dispel the tension from my body. It helped. Well, a bit.
“What happened to Lucia?” Stacey wanted to know. “Did you finally break up with her? Because it’s about damn time.”
I blinked, startled, and returned my attention to Stacey, who was eying Allison speculatively. After a moment, her focus shifted back to me. “Not that Lucia isn’t very sweet and completely gorgeous if you go for that Michelle Rodriguez type, but you know…” She sketched a wave in the air, as if she’d made her point.
“Lucia and I didn’t break up.” I had trouble getting the words out, and I didn’t even want to think about why the air in the lobby had just become stifling.
Stacey’s eyes widened, and she put one hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God, Ryan. I’m so sorry. I just assumed, well, I mean, I never really thought you and Lucia clicked all that well, and now here you are with this walking wet dream—”
“Stacey,” I barked, a little louder than necessary, which caused Allison to turn her head in my direction and examine me briefly with her hawk-like gaze. Two things were bothering me about Stacey’s statement, and I still wasn’t sure which affected me more.
First was her opinion that Lucia and I had never really clicked. I’d thought we actually clicked pretty well. And what the hell would she know about it anyway? She’d seen us together on maybe three occasions and only long enough for us to grab dinner. That was hardly time enough to accurately assess an entire relationship.
Second, something about her categorization of Allison irritated me. A lot. Not that it wasn’t accurate. Not by a long shot. Hell, I’d been teetering unsteadily on the razor edge of arousal all freaking day because Allison Reynolds and I were occupying the same space, but still, to hear someone else say it out loud…
Stacey’s features softened, and her expression became a cross between sympathetic and incredulous. “Oh, wow. You’ve got it bad.” Her voice was hushed, almost a whisper, her tone colored with quiet wonder.