Taming Lily (The Fowler Sisters #3)(27)

And she’s the last woman I should want.

Heaving a big sigh, I stand and open the sliding glass door, thankful it glides shut so quietly. I stand at the foot of the bed, studying Lily lying on her side, the sheet loose around her breasts, giving me a teasing glimpse. I want to go to her. Kiss her all over her body until she slowly awakens. I want to spend the morning in this bed with her naked.

I can’t, though. I have a job to do.

Her tiny purse sits on the dresser and I go to it, peering inside. There’s not much in there. A lip gloss. Six crisply folded twenty-dollar bills, two sticks of gum, and her room key. I pull out her ID and study it, surprised at how completely different she looks in the photo that was taken—I squint at the fine print—two years ago.

She’s blonder in the picture. Lots of makeup on her face, especially her eyes. Her lips are curved in this almost mocking smile and her lids are heavy, looking like she just woke up and was nursing a wicked hangover.

The Lily Fowler on her ID card looks nothing like the Lily currently lying in the bed not ten feet away from me.

Shoving the ID back in her purse I turn and study the room, contemplating where I should look next. The mirrored closet door is shut and I go to it, carefully sliding it open, breathing deep to calm my racing heart. Adrenaline pours through me, pushing me to the edge, and I peer inside. There’s nothing in there—no clothes on the hangers, no shoes scattered on the floor. Her suitcase sits on the other side of the room, on top of one of those folding metal stands that hold luggage.

I’ll search the top of the closet first and if the laptop isn’t there, the suitcase is next. It’s gotta be stashed around here somewhere. I saw it with my own eyes on the plane.

Well, I saw a bag that looked suspiciously like a laptop case but I never actually saw a laptop. For all I know, I could be chasing a mythical object that doesn’t even f*cking exist.

The air conditioner clicks on, a blast of cold air hitting me, and I shiver. I snoop around in the closet, reaching along the top shelf, where no one ever puts anything—unless maybe they have something to hide. I gently slap my palm along the smooth wood, encountering nothing. Until I reach deep into the recesses of the farthest corner and my palm makes contact with something. It’s hard and cool to the touch, like metal.

There it is.

Excitement ripples through me as I pull it down off the shelf, glancing toward the bed to make sure Lily’s still asleep, which she is. She owns a MacBook, top of the line, nothing less for the Fleur heiress. Holding the laptop close to my chest, I crack it open and wait for it to start up, not surprised at all when the password screen appears. I fumble with the laptop and set it carefully on the dresser, then pull my phone out of my pocket, opening it up to my email and scrolling until I find the one from Pilar with the subject line “Possible Lily passwords.” She had her suspicions and sent a list along to me.

I try them all, but not a one of them works.

Damn it.

Carefully closing the laptop, I shove my phone back into my pocket before I slide the laptop back into its hiding place in the closet, making sure I disturb nothing. If Pilar knew I was putting the laptop back where I found it, she’d come unglued. Hell, I wouldn’t blame her.

I should grab it and leave. Fuck Lily Fowler. Fuck the shit I left in my hotel room. It’s a few changes of clothes and toiletries, nothing else. I could leave it all behind and not miss it. Deliver the laptop to my client and be done with the job. Hands clean. Money earned.

But my hands wouldn’t be clean and neither would my conscience. I had sex with her last night. My subject. Lily. I kissed her, f*cked her, slept with her, her body nestled close to mine, like we were lovers. The very last thing I should have done, yet I did it anyway like a complete *.

I’m in too deep and I need to find my way out. I can’t let her suck me in any deeper, despite how much I want to be sucked in. I like the woman. I enjoy spending time with her. Every time our eyes meet, it’s like a current of electricity runs through my veins. And when she touches me, kisses me … damn.

I’m done for.

But I can’t let any of that affect me. I need to re-strategize. Come up with a new plan, one that allows me to spend more time with Lily.

You’re a f*cking idiot.

Fine, I am. An idiot who wants at least one more night on this island with Lily.

I’ll earn Lily’s trust. Hell, I’m probably more than halfway there already. I’ll discover the things and the people that mean something to her, try to figure out exactly what went wrong between her and Pilar. And then I’ll get into that laptop and find out exactly what Pilar is looking for.

Chapter eleven

Lily

MY EYELIDS ARE HEAVY and I don’t want to open them. Plus the room is bright with the rising sun—I can see the glow even behind my closed eyes, and I know the second I open them I’ll want to hiss and groan like a vampire.

More than anything, I’m reluctant for this night—morning, whatever—with Max to end. What if he utters a casual, “It’s been real,” and then bails on me? I don’t think my mind—or my heart—could take it. I know what happened between us can be nothing but casual. I get it.

So why am I feeling like this? Like I don’t want him to go? Like I want to spend the rest of my vacation with him, exploring the island, going out for dinner, splashing in the pool or better yet, in the ocean, and then letting him take me to new heights of pleasure every night?