He turned to face her. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll contact Zeb.’
‘Really?’ A huge sigh escaped her lips as her shoulders dropped—the expelled tension was almost visible. Rising to her feet, she moved towards him, her hips swaying with an unconscious femininity. ‘Thank you.’
She rested a hand on his forearm. Her touch was warm and yet it shivered his skin.
‘If you could give me his phone number, I’ll—’
‘Not so fast. I’ll contact him, Olivia. I’ll talk with him and then we’ll take things from there.’
She stepped away from him. ‘No, no, no. That doesn’t work for me, Adam. I want to be the one to tell him; I need to see his reaction. I don’t know how all this is going to play out, and I don’t know what your father will say or do. But I do know I need to be there when he says or does it.’
‘No.’ It was time to make a stand, to stop being sucked in by her beauty and do what he knew to be right. ‘This is not negotiable, Olivia. Take it or leave it.’
She opened her mouth then closed it again, her protest swallowed down even though anger flecked the hazel eyes with green. ‘What happened to Mr Nice Guy?’
‘This is Mr Nice Guy. You want to see Mr Not So Nice? Because he would’ve had you booted out of here long ago. Which is still a possibility. So, take it or leave it.’
A pause during which her eyes narrowed before, ‘I’ll take it. For now. But only because I’m beat. I’ll head to Reception and sort out a room.’
‘I’ve got a better idea.’
‘What?’
‘Stay here.’
* * *
‘Say what?’ Tiredness fled the room and Olivia wasn’t sure which emotion to run with in the seething mass left in its wake. Anger vied with a certifiable urge to comply and won. Just. ‘Are you nuts? I told you already what happened earlier was a mistake. An aberration. A...’ However many more words for mistake there were in the thesaurus.
‘Calm down.’ The authoritative tone shut her up. ‘The majority of my guests, including Helen Kendersen, are staying here tonight. It’s included in the ticket price. Given they all believe that you’re my date, it’s probably better if you stay here. In the spare room.’
‘Oh.’ Now she felt like a gigantic idiot. Worse, she had the horrible idea that she sounded disappointed.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind and you want to take up where we left off earlier?’
The words, faintly mocking, reminded her that Adam still didn’t fully credit her story. Regardless of that, sleeping with Adam would mean the loss of any respect he had for her. To say nothing of the blow to her own self-respect.
‘No. But thanks for the offer. And the offer of the spare room. I agree it would be more sensible if I stay here tonight.’
‘That’s sorted, then. Nate has had your bag sent up here anyway. Is there anything else you need?’
Your body. The answer popped into her mind, proving to her that she might as well found Idiots R Us.
‘A spare toothbrush would be good.’ Nothing sexual about a toothbrush. So focus on that. Bristles, plastic handle, toothpaste, flossing... Nothing attractive about that. ‘If you’ve got one?’
‘This is a hotel, Olivia. We provide multiple toothbrushes.’
Toothbrushes. He was talking about multiple toothbrushes; she was thinking about orgasms. ‘There’s one in the spare room already.’
‘Fabulous. Super. Take me to it. The toothbrush, I mean.’
* * *
Five hours later Olivia opened bleary eyes and gave up. Sleep with Adam a mere couple of walls away wasn’t possible. Not even in a bed that had literally taken her breath away. She had no idea how much a stay in a penthouse suite would cost but the decadent round bed alone would be worth it. Sumptuously comfortable and made for sin...it was no wonder her body had spent the night craving someone to sin with.
No. Not someone. Adam.
Olivia huffed out yet another sigh.
Coffee. She needed coffee. No—what she really needed was a hormone transplant. But she’d have to settle for coffee.
A glance in the mirror sent a shudder of sheer horror through her. Her hair had not coped well with the tossing and turning of her fevered body; if she went outside birds would be attracted to its nestlike properties. As for the bags under her eyes—they were fit for a luggage carousel.
OK. Ten minutes to make herself at least a little bit presentable. For her own sake, of course. Nothing to do with the chance that Adam might be an early riser.
Olivia pushed the door open and padded down the corridor to the kitchen. She filled the kettle up and pulled open a cupboard in the hope of finding coffee.