She swallowed.
"They all have corporate use rooms." He took her hand and tugged her to a stop in the shade. "But there are no other women. Not in hotel rooms or my apartment or anywhere else."
"Oh." An unreasonable amount of relief flooded her. "Okay. I was just curious."
"Curious? Or jealous?"
She licked her lips, then focused on the floral pattern of her shoes. "Maybe a little of both."
"Interesting," he said, and when she looked back up, he was smiling.
"Do you know what I think we should do?" he asked.
"What?"
He bent forward, then whispered the words, his mouth so close that his lips brushed her ear, making her shiver. "I think we should go back to the hotel so that I can prove to you that you have absolutely no reason at all to be jealous."
Her breath left her in a woosh, and she nodded. "Yeah," she finally managed. "That sounds like a great idea to me."
Chapter Seven
Something shifted beneath her, and Amanda bolted upright, gasping and confused. She had no memory of what she'd been dreaming, but she understood what had awakened her. Derek had rolled over, and her head must have slid off his chest and onto the mattress.
She allowed herself a satisfied smile as she recalled the way he'd kissed his way all over her body, leaving her warm and tingly. And then, when he'd moved on to kiss between her legs, not letting up until she'd come three times, well, then she'd done more than tingle.
He'd refused to let her return the favor. Instead, he'd pulled her close, and she'd fallen asleep tucked up against him. Now, though, it was time to come back to reality.
With a loud exhale, she shook herself, trying to erase the grogginess. She ran her hand through her hair, caught a glimpse of the clock, and sighed.
Past ten.
Part of her wanted to snuggle back under the covers and go to sleep. But the part that was still sane and remembered her no strings, no relationship commitment told her to get her ass out of bed and go home.
Stupid sane part...
She dragged herself to the bathroom, quietly gathering clothes along the way, careful not to disturb Derek, who looked like he could sleep for a year. Only when she was inside the small room did she flip on the light and get dressed.
A few minutes later, she cast one quick glance back to Derek, then dragged herself out of the room. The door closed with a soft snick, and she grimaced, hoping it didn't wake him. She knew he was tired; she was tired for the same reason.
The thought made her smile, and she hurried toward the elevator, leaning against the wall until the doors open, and she could step out into the lobby. Her sneakers made no noise on the tile floor, and she kept her head down, startled when she heard a deep voice calling, "Amanda?"
She turned and saw Easton Wallace, tall and chiseled, pushing himself up out of an overstuffed leather chair in the lobby bar.
"Easton!" She hurried forward, accepting his hug. "I haven't seen you in months. What have you been up to?"
"I was in LA for a while. Saw Jenna out there. Depositions and a huge document production." He shook his head, like a dog shaking off fleas. "Thank God that's over."
"Why are you here alone?"
"I was with a date, but she got called into work. She's a surgeon," he added, in response to her questioning look.
She glanced at the two glasses on the table where he'd been sitting, and he laughed. "Scotch for me, cranberry juice for her." He indicated the abandoned chair. "We'd just ordered some chips and guacamole. Want to join me and catch up? I can get you something other than her discarded juice."
She hesitated, feeling strangely guilty about sitting with another man while Derek was asleep upstairs. Especially Easton. Not that there was anything between them now, but they'd gone out a few months ago. But it wasn't serious--Amanda didn't do serious--and they'd become good friends. And Easton still fed her potential clients.
Amanda was pretty sure that Jenna was convinced they'd slept together, and Amanda hadn't bother to correct her. Jenna was convinced Amanda was nursing deep scars after Leo and that getting involved with other men would act as a healing balm. Jenna was probably right. Not that Amanda would ever admit that out loud.
"So what are you doing here?" he asked, after the waiter had delivered the chips, and Easton had ordered her a drink. "Hot date?"