One Night with the Sexiest Man Alive (The One 1)

“It said lovely to meet you. All the best.”

Evie made a monster face.

“That’s your something smells look.”

“Because that’s like asking how are you and then not waiting for the reply. It’s a giant nothing, no care, up yours.”

Teela tried out a laugh, but it fell flat even to her own ears. “What do I care? I had the experience of a lifetime. It’s not like I’m going to remember the card when I think about it.”

“Right, so why did it upset you even a little bit?”

She looked at her shoes. They really were fuck-me hot. You had to suffer to be glamorous. But that wasn’t her. She was two-inch block heels that you could walk in. And even those hurt her feet when she’d been running about in them all day. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t sensible on any scale to feel let down by Haydn. “I need sleep.”

Evie pressed against the wall beside her. If anyone came into the corridor they’d guess a deep and meaningful was in progress. “I know.” Evie said. “Because you liked him. You saw something real and really liked him, beyond the towels and the shoes and the fucking in a private pool. You thought you had a genuine connection and then lovely to meet you all the best happened.”

That made Teela laugh for real. She stepped away from the wall. “You’re exceptionally annoying when you’re right. Give me a couple of hours to try to feel normal around Sophie again and wallow in my inbox and I’ll have forgotten all about the silly card.”

Evie clapped her hands in that rapid-fire excited soundless way. “And then we’ll do all the excruciating detail, like packs left or right, cut or uncut, thrust technique, tongue proficiency. I’ll bring the food.”

There were worse ways to spend a Friday night after a week of triumph than recounting the highlights of one night with the Sexiest Man Alive. “It’s a deal.”

SIX

Haydn eyed the mussed-up bed. He probably should crawl back into it and get some more sleep. It would smell of sex. And that would remind him that he put Teela in a limo and sent her away. There were two other unused beds in the apartment and he could crash on either of them. He could have his concierge here in two minutes and clean sheets in five. Wouldn’t make him feel better.

Not that he had any reason to feel bad. The overnight fun had been fantastic. The morning delight more than delightful. But something was off.

Had to be jet lag. Too much melatonin? Not enough?

A workout would fix him.

In the private gym, Rick put him through his paces. Cardio to work up a sweat then weight training. Hassan came

in as Rick was spotting for him on the bench press.

“No issues?” Rick asked. It was more a matter of form, neither of them expected Hassan, who’d been hired for their stay in Australia because he’d come highly recommended, to report any problems.

Haydn lifted but Hassan’s silence spooked him and with a nod to Rick, he hooked the barbell back on the bar and swung his legs around to sit.

“What aren’t you saying?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know if it’s anything, but Miss. Carpenter was fine until she opened the card.”

“The one that goes with the flowers?” Haydn said. Oh shit. Hello, bad feeling.

Hassan nodded.

“Sounds like nothing,” said Rick. “That card, it’s not specific. Not personalized. It’s the standard order.”

“Oh fuck,” Haydn said, wiping his sweaty head with a hand towel.

“What’s the problem?” Rick asked?

Haydn focused on Hassan. “What happened?”

“It’s not that anything happened. It was just the expression on her face,” Hassan said. “She went from smiling at the whole world to looking like she’d lost something.”

“Maybe she did lose something.” Rick said. “Housekeeping will find it and you can get it back to her.”