Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(9)

“Because we’ll die from dehydration long before that.”

She felt the sudden urge to fling one of her sandals at him. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“All right then, we’ll die thanks to the hurricane.”

“The glass is definitely half empty for you, isn’t it? Don’t think of things that way. Maybe one of the hotel employees stayed behind and will come looking for you. Did you assign anyone to check the floors?”

“Assign anyone? Why on earth would I do that?”

She frowned into the darkness. “You’re wearing a badge. Aren’t you the manager here?”

“Ah . . . yes. And no, I didn’t assign anyone to check the floors.”

Lovely. Not only was the man kind of abrasive, but it didn’t seem like he was good at handling an emergency. She yawned into her hand again. This heat was making her so sleepy. She hadn’t gotten much rest the night before, thanks to the people in the next room and their acrobatics. Which reminded he . . . “Since you’re the manager, can I make a suggestion?”

“I can’t stop you.”

“Thicker walls.”

“Pardon?”

“You definitely want thicker walls. You can hear everything through some of them. I’m just saying.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He sounded amused again.

The wind whistled, and she heard a crack in the distance. She bolted upright. “What was that?”

She heard him get to his feet. “Hurricane must be arriving,” he said.

“Oh, shit.” Panic began to surge through her again. “We have to get out of here, Logan.”

“I know.”

Bront? chewed on her fingernails, her mouth dry as she strained to hear more noise from the hurricane. What was happening out there? Had Sharon even noticed that she’d never come back? Doubtful. She’d probably found her passport at the bar and then had started flirting with the nearest guy. Some friend.

Definitely taking the next vacation by herself.

There was an odd scraping sound, and a crack of light appeared then grew larger. She watched in surprise as Logan forced the doors of the elevator apart. They were stuck between floors. She could make out a bit of brick, and then more light flooded in as he pushed the second set of doors open. His body was lit up, and she could see he was down to his slacks, his chest bare and gleaming with sweat.

As soon as he let go of the first set of doors, though, they began to slide shut, so he grabbed them and braced them again, glancing back at her. “I think we can jump down.”

She grabbed her clothes and her purse, then moved forward, peeking over the edge. They had about a foot and a half of clearance, and it looked like a six foot drop to the floor, at the very least. “Is it safe?”

“Safer than staying here.”

He had a point. “So how do we do this?”

Logan continued to hold the doors open, thinking. His face looked angular in the low light. “If you can hold the doors, I’ll slide through and then look for something to brace them apart.”

That sounded . . . nerve-racking. She’d have to trust him to come back for her. “What if I go first?”

“I’m stronger. If I can’t find something to brace the doors, I’ll have to hold them open for you while you climb down. I’m not sure you’ll be able to do the same for me.”

He had a point. Bront? bit her lip, then nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll hold them.”

They traded places, and Bront? held the doors while he grabbed his clothes and put them back on quickly. She tried not to think about the fact that she probably should have gotten dressed, too, and was standing in an elevator wearing nothing but a leopard bra and bright pink boy shorts. It could have been worse, she supposed. “Ready?”

He squatted on the floor and examined the space, then glanced at her. “Would it bother you if I went between your legs?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “Be my guest. My legs welcome your invading presence.”

This time he chuckled, and she blushed. “I just don’t want you losing your grip on the door,” he told her. “That’s all. I promise I won’t look up.”

“Just get us out of here,” she said, wincing and spreading her legs wide so he could slide out from between them. This was not a story she was going to repeat if she got home.

When I get home, she told herself. When.

As Logan shimmied out of the elevator, Bront? focused on the weather. She could hear the pounding rain occasionally and wind gusts that sounded dangerous. They’d been isolated from the worst of it inside the elevator, but with the door open, it was all too obvious that the hurricane was upon them and they were trapped.

Suddenly Logan’s body was gone, and then she heard him smack the tile floor below. She was startled and almost let go of the doors. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just off balance. Stay there, and I’ll look for something to brace the door open so you can crawl out.”

“Okay,” she said, licking her dry lips. She tried to peek down and get a good look at his face, but the angle at which she was holding the doors made it impossible. She heard him walk away, and panic surged through her. He was gone. What if he wasn’t coming back? “Hurry!” she squeaked out, hoping he’d heard that last entreaty.