Moonlighter (The Company, #1)(42)

“Sweet! I wonder if they’ll make me a virgin strawberry margarita.”

“But that’s just…a cup of strawberries and some lime juice?”

“Don’t judge. Look, there’s two open barstools. Oh, heck.” Alex takes off like a shot because another couple is heading for the bar from the opposite direction.

Lord, never get between this woman and a fruity drink. She gets there faster than Usain Bolt, and I jog up a few seconds later.

“Hang on, are you limping?” she asks, patting the stool beside her.

“No,” I lie. “My knee is a little tender, but it’s nothing.”

“Eric.” Her face falls. “Is this my fault?”

“What?” I sit down. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because of…” She looks over both shoulders to make sure nobody is listening. “The door.”

“What?” I’m not following.

“The door. To the suite. Last night, when we came in, you picked me up and…”

I burst out laughing.

“What? I’m a good girl. We don’t finish our sentences when we’re talking about…” She clears her throat.

I die.

“Oh, stop.” She waves down the bartender. “Could you please make me a virgin strawberry margarita?”

“Sure, but…” He frowns. “That’s just, like, a strawberry smoothie.”

“I’ll take it. And he’ll have whatever arrogant people who lose footraces drink.”

I wipe my eyes. “A Big Swell IPA, please.”

“Coming right up.” The bartender grabs his blender and gets busy making Alex’s drink.

“Listen, Engels. You’re not the cause of my knee pain. I’ve been squatting three-fifteen this week because the hotel doesn’t have enough plates for me to go heavier.”

“Three hundred and fifteen? Pounds?” She gapes.

“You know it. So unless you weigh more than that, a little sex up against the hotel room door isn’t going to hurt me.”

“Omigod, lower your voice,” she hisses.

I laugh.

“Excuse me, Ms. Engels?”

We look up to find a tall man in an expensive suit standing beside Alex. He’s about thirty, I guess. East Asian by heritage, or at least partly. He’s a good looking guy, and well dressed. But there’s something slick about him that puts me on my guard. “Can we help you?”

“I’m Xian Smith.” His tone says I should know who that is.

“Hello, Mr. Smith,” Alex says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Although I know her well enough by now to know from her tone that it isn’t, actually, much of a pleasure.

“You’re a busy woman,” he says with a smile. “But I’m still hoping to sit down with you before you leave Hawaii. I only require twenty minutes of your time.”

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Twice. And something about the timing makes me pull it out and check the message. Take the meeting, it says.

I glance up and spot Gunnar at the end of the bar. He nods once.

“Mr. Smith,” Alex says. “I’m sure you understand my time constraints. There are only so many hours in the day.”

Naturally, the bartender picks that moment to set down our drinks. Alex’s is a red confection that screams leisure time!

She scowls.

“Um, Alex?” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You do have a free half-hour on Saturday.”

Alex’s chin whips in my direction. “Excuse me?”

“We had that cancellation,” I hint. And I casually move my phone where she can see it but Mr. Xian Smith cannot. “See?”

Her eyes dart to the screen and then widen. Then her scowl deepens. “Well, I suppose I could make the time. If I shuffle a couple of things.”

“It would mean a lot to me,” Smith says with a sly smile. “I know you’re scrambling to make your new toy, and I’m a hundred percent sure I can help you meet your deadlines.” He lays a business card on the bar in front of her.

Alex blinks. “All right. We’ll email a time and a place.”

“Excellent,” he says. “We’ll speak soon.” Then, like a man who knows when to make an exit, he slips into the darkness.

Alex lifts her strawberry smoothie and takes a long drink from the straw while the man puts more distance between us. “What the hell?” she hisses after he’s gone. “Did you write that?”

“No! I don’t give a fuck who you meet. That was Gunnar. He was seated at the end of the bar.”

Alex looks up, but he’s gone already, so I receive the glare meant for him. “Why would Gunnar interfere in my schedule? What does Max want from me?”

“Lady, I was singing that same tune a few days ago. But now I don’t care so much. Come upstairs with me.”

She gives me an arch look. “Why?”

“Why do you think? My knee needs a workout.” I wave at the bartender. “I’ll take the check when you’re ready. There’s somewhere I need to be.” Then I lean very close to Alex’s ear. “Inside you,” I whisper.

When I pull back, she’s sipping her drink, eyes wide.