“We don’t want to give the appearance that we’ve had a spat,” he reminded her, his mouth very close to her ear. Anyone watching them would probably have imagined that he was murmuring suggestions of what he would like to do to her when he got her upstairs. “Play your part,” he added.
She’d agreed to do this, and she wasn’t going to have anyone—especially Bryan—say she hadn’t been good at it. Turning her head just enough so that her lips brushed his jaw as she spoke, she murmured, “What do you suppose they would think if I ram my elbow into your abdomen right now?”
He chuckled, the sound just a bit husky. “Maybe that I’m into the dominatrix scene?”
“Not something I’ve been interested in, myself.” She nuzzled lightly just beneath his ear. “But with you, I just might enjoy wielding the whip.”
He took her completely off guard by planting a firm kiss directly on her mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said when he finally released her.
He caught her fist an inch from his stomach and, lifting it to his lips, drew her into an empty elevator. He made his moves so swiftly that she was sure no one realized he’d just missed having the breath knocked out of him. But they’d certainly put on a show, anyway, she thought with a stifled sigh.
The moment the elevator doors closed completely, she broke away from Bryan and moved across the small car. Since she couldn’t physically injure him—the darned male was just too fast for her—she contented herself with stabbing him with angry glares.
“Must you look at me that way?” he inquired. “I feel my eyebrows startin
g to singe.”
“That kiss was completely unnecessary.”
“I thought it added a nice touch.” He actually looked smug as he brushed a nonexistent smudge from his jacket. “I imagine we gave the gossips enough fodder to chew on for a few days.”
“Good. Can we go home now?”
“You wound me with your eagerness to be rid of my company.”
She gave a low growl of exasperation. “And would you please stop talking like a character in a Regency romance novel?”
He laughed and motioned toward the opening elevator doors. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away with the role of devoted suitor.”
“You think?” Holding her chin high—and her shoes tightly—she swept ahead of him out of the elevator. The overall effect was probably diminished somewhat when she stumbled over her long skirt, but she righted herself almost immediately, ignoring the steadying hand Bryan held out to her.
Bryan had booked a two-bedroom suite. Grace would have insisted on that, of course, but he had done so without asking. She didn’t particularly care what the gossips made of their arrangements, and neither did Bryan, apparently. She turned immediately toward the bedroom she had claimed earlier. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“No good-night kiss?”
She threw a shoe at him.
Catching the strappy sandal in one hand, he grinned. “Sleep well, Grace.”
Sleep well? Fat chance.
More as a defiant gesture than a belief that the precaution was necessary, she locked her bedroom door after closing it in Bryan’s face.
Only after changing into an oversized T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, her face scrubbed clean and every trace of hairspray brushed from her hair, did Grace feel more like herself. Now if only she were home…
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she noted that it was past midnight. Yet it was an hour earlier back home. Maybe Chloe would still be awake. She was suddenly almost overcome with the urge to hear her sister’s voice—if for no other reason than to remind herself why she was here.
Sounding wide-awake, Chloe answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Grace. I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No, I’ve been going over some paperwork from the store. Donovan’s helping me.”
Grace imagined that Donovan’s “help” had only made the task take twice as long, but she kept that opinion to herself. “We’ve just gotten back from that charity opera thing.”
“How was it?”
Dozens of complaints hovered on her tongue, but she settled for just one. “People kept staring at us.”