Burned Deep (Burned 1)

“It’s certainly a perk.”

I went back to devouring my breakfast, including the southwestern potatoes with red and green bell peppers and onions, a hint of cayenne and paprika to add just the right amount of spice. Ravenous, I barely said another word until I reached for my orange juice to wash it all down. Then I started in on the cappuccino.

When we were finished, I stood to collect the dishes.

“Don’t worry about them,” Dane said. “I have someone who cleans. Rosa. She comes in at nine.”

“Then I’ll do my makeup and get dressed.”

As much as I wanted to kiss him before I left the patio, I hesitated. All of this was out of my realm of normalcy. I didn’t want to make assumptions. Though after last night … all the intimacy and the things we’d said in the heat of passion—

Dane caught my wrist, taking the guesswork out of how this was all supposed to go. He got to his feet, drew me into his arms, and kissed me. It sizzled as he held me tightly and his tongue delved deep, sliding over mine.

When he eventually pulled away, I was breathless. Yet somehow I managed to say, “We’re going to be late. I wouldn’t want the boss to think I’m a slacker.”

His mischievous grin made my stomach flip. “I think you’re safe.” He kissed me again, another scorcher. Then said, “Take however much time you need.”

“Thanks.” I returned to his bathroom and wrapped up quickly.

We met in the foyer and I all but melted in my high heels. Dane wore black, too. A sharp tailored suit I had no doubt was by Armani or some other prestigious designer. A dark-gray silk tie complemented his crisp white shirt.

“I forgot how incredible you look with clothes on,” I told him, admiring the view. “Though naked really is preferable.”

“You’re amusing.”

“I’m being totally serious.” And had to bite back the sigh of longing swelling in my throat.

He took my tote from me and gathered up both our laptop bags. I preceded him outside. We left in his black Escalade instead of the F5. I surmised the latter lacked trunk space. Or a backseat. There’d be no place to put our bags, except piled high on my lap.

We left the gated property and I tried to shift my attention from Dane to work as we drove into Sedona and then west toward the Lux. It was difficult to concentrate, though, when flashes of him between my legs, behind me, beneath me, on top of me, riddled my mind. It was completely insane, but now I ached for him all the time.

We slowed at the security booth but breezed through the gates, the guards clearly recognizing Dane’s vehicle and license plate, not daring to detain the owner of 10,000 Lux. We pulled alongside the entrance of the hotel and Brandon, dressed in black pants and a black polo shirt with the Lux’s crest in gold on the left chest, swooped in to open the passenger door for me. It suddenly hit me how my arrival with Dane must appear.

I quickly explained to the valet, “I had car trouble this morning. Mr. Bax was kind enough to give me a ride.”

“If your Sorento needs to go to the dealer, Miss DeMille, I can arrange that for you. Pickup and delivery. You don’t have to do a thing.”

“Wow, you really are all about first-class service.”

He smiled. “Well, it’s not exactly your standard hotel.”

“No, it’s definitely not.”

Brandon retrieved our bags from the back of the SUV and handed them over. Then he walked ahead of us to the tall doors and pulled one open. I caught sight of Kyle in the lobby and quickened my pace.

“Hey,” I said. “Don’t you look professional?”

He wore a navy-colored suit and what I suspected were new shoes.

“Interview,” he explained. “I’m meeting someone from HR.”

“Probably Patricia.” I glanced at Dane, who kept up with me, given his wide strides. “You two haven’t officially been introduced. Dane Bax, Kyle Jenns.”

They shook, though it was that sharp, tense kind that belied the whole territory-encroachment issue.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

But I’d already pleaded my case with Dane, and he’d agreed to let the chips fall where they may when it came to Kyle possibly working at the Lux.