Indigo Nights (Nights #3)(5)

The waitress appeared at our table. “Another virgin mojito, please, and I’ll have another soda water with a twist.” I didn’t glance away from Beth. “Do you want more cake?”

She shook her head.

“Actually, sir, I wanted to tell you that your flight has been cancelled. The weather will get worse before it gets better. We’re hoping it will be clear for the morning, and we’ve rescheduled for seven. We’ve secured a limited number of hotel rooms, and we’re giving our frequent flyers priority. I can check you in remotely if you like, before everything gets booked up.”

I glanced across at the waitress. She had an iPad in hand, ready to type in information, which presented an opportunity. I’d have the rest of my evening to persuade Beth to get naked, and the venue would be a comfortable hotel room rather than whatever place around here—probably the showers—I could find. “Sure. Check us in.”

Beth began to say something, but changed her mind. Did she live in Chicago? Was she considering going home?

I watched as Beth concentrated on the waitress as she tapped the screen of the tablet.

Beth’s lips formed a full pout as she focused on the iPad. Adorable. My eyes skated down her body.

“Mr. and Mrs. James, you’re booked into room 302 at the Hilton. Your key will be waiting for you at reception.”

I chuckled.

Beth flitted a look between the waitress and me, presumably waiting for me to correct the girl. Yeah, that isn’t going to happen. “I’m sorry. I’m not Mrs. James.” She waved her hand between us. “We’re not married. Or together. I think he meant check us in separately.” Beth’s eyes were wide with panic.

I grabbed my phone and dialed my assistant.

The waitress gulped in a breath. “I’m so sorry. I assumed . . . Can I get your name?”

“Marie, could you book me into the Hilton for the night, please? My flight has been cancelled.” Marie was resourceful; she’d find me a room if she had to come down to the front desk to organize it. And it wouldn’t be the shitty standard rooms that the airline would book. “Call me back when it’s done.”

“Beth Harrison.” Beth looked concerned. She probably thought I’d insist we bunk in together. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Frankly, two rooms were a waste.

“My screen froze. I’ll just be a minute.” The waitress headed off to fix her IT problems.

Beth pulled out a tablet of her own and began to tap away.

“Hey,” I said, smoothing my hand over hers. “Don’t sweat it. My assistant will find me a room. You take room 302.”

She moved her hand from under mine. “But it won’t just be our flight that will be cancelled. Everyone is going to be looking for a hotel room. God knows how long it will take for the waitress to unfreeze her tablet. If I wait, we’ll be left with just one room.”

I looked at her. “Trust me. Take the room.”

Her chest rose, then lowered as she took a breath and exhaled. “Okay.” She paused. “Hey, is this a ruse to get me to relax, and then you’ll give me some sob story about not having a room when your fake assistant calls you back?”

“Beth.” My tone was serious. “I don’t lie, and I don’t force women to share my bed. Trust me.” It’d been a while since I’d worked this hard. My money normally did the talking. To be fair, it had been a while since I’d thought anyone was worth working for.

My phone vibrated on the table in front of me. “Marie.”

My assistant told me my room number at the Hilton—a suite on the executive floor—and I thanked her and hung up.

“What did I tell you?” I winked at Beth.

“You got a room?” she asked. It hurt my ego a little that she clearly didn’t think I had the power to get a room at the Hilton. I could buy the f*cking hotel if I needed to.

“So what’s so bad about the idea of sharing a bed with me?” I asked. I was interested in what exactly might be holding her back. We had just met and she could be in a relationship for all I knew, though I was pretty sure she wasn’t. I could spot an attached woman—ring or no ring—a mile off.

She laughed. “You mean other than the fact that we just met?”

I frowned. “Yeah. Give me three good reasons other than that.”

“We should get going, or we’ll miss the line for check-in at the hotel.” She began to put her things back into her bag.

“That’s what I thought. You can’t think of any.”

“I can think of plenty. First, you could be a serial killer—”

“I said other than the fact we just met.”

She stood up, her weight on one foot, pushing one of her delicious hips out and emphasizing her curves. “Okay.” She looked me straight in the eye. “One, I’m an alcoholic. Two, I’ve never had sober sex. And three, I’m scared shitless that when I finally do have sex again, I won’t enjoy it in the way I used to.”

Wow, that wasn’t what I’d been expecting, at all. Women didn’t try to discourage my flirtations through honesty; they didn’t tell me their deepest secrets. Who was this girl?

She picked up her bag and spun round, heading quickly to the exit.

I stuffed my belongings back into my carry-on and tried to catch her up. This was a girl worth following. Incredible.