She dragged a brush through her long, curly hair, wishing she’d cut it all off. With the convention taking all of her spare time, she didn’t have time to waste on taming her mane of cursed curls. Most of the time it was the bane of her existence, requiring almost an hour of steady work with the straightener to pull the curls out. Having left her clean clothes in the drawer in the bedroom, Fiona stood naked in front of the mirror as she blew her hair dry, coaxing it around a large round brush.
This convention was her shot at taking her business international. If she succeeded and pulled off the biggest event of her career without a hitch, other jobs would come her way on her own merit, not based on a recommendation from one of her stepfather’s cronies.
When she’d graduated with her masters in Operations Management, she’d invested the money her mother had left her in her business, F.A. International Event Planner. Since then, she’d steadily built her client list from companies based in San Antonio. Starting out with weddings, parties and small gigs, she’d established a reputation for attention to detail and an ability to follow through. She’d worked her way in as a consultant for some of the larger firms in the area when they’d needed to plan a convention based in San Antonio.
Finally she’d gotten a lead on the International Trade Convention and had applied. Her stepfather put a bug in the ear of one of his buddies from his active Army days at the Pentagon and she’d landed the contract.
Now all she had to do was prove she was up to the task. If it fell apart, she’d lose her business, disgrace the U.S. government and shame her stepfather. The pressure to succeed had almost been overwhelming. To manage the workload, she’d taken out a big loan, more than doubled her staff, coordinated the use of the convention center, arranged for all the food, meeting rooms, audio-visual equipment, translators, and blocked out lodging and security for the guests.
As she dried her hair, she stared at the shadows beneath her eyes. Only a few more sleepless nights and the convention would be underway and over. She’d be playing the role of orchestra conductor, managing the staff to ensure everything was perfect. The most important aspect of the event was tight security. The Department of Homeland Security had notified her today that with all the foreign delegates scheduled to attend, the probability of a terrorist attack had risen to threat level orange.
A quick glance at her watch reminded her that she only had ten minutes to get ready before her meeting in the lounge with the man Homeland Security had insisted she add to her staff to oversee security. This last-minute addition made her nervous. She knew nothing about the man, his background or his capabilities. He could prove more of a hindrance than a help if he got in the way. All she knew was that he’d better be on time, and he’d better be good. With a hundred items roiling around in her head at any one moment, the last thing she needed was an international incident.
Fiona shut off the blow dryer, ran the brush through her hair and reached for the doorknob, reminding herself to look at the e-mail on her laptop from Homeland Security to get the name of the contact she’d be meeting shortly. Before she could turn the doorknob, it twisted in her hand and the door flew open.
A very naked man, with wild eyes and bared teeth shoved her up against the wall, pinned her wrists above her head and demanded, “Who the hell are you? And why are you in my room?”
Chapter Two
Wyatt had stopped in the hotel store for a can of shaving cream and a package of condoms. The shaving cream he had in his duffle, but it was getting low and the condoms… Well, after running into the pretty jogger in the pink shorts, he’d started thinking about sex again. He’d rather be prepared in case an opportunity presented itself.
A mother and a couple of kids got to the clerk first and proceeded to count out thirty-five pennies, five dimes and a quarter for a candy bar.
Wyatt glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind the clerk. In fifteen minutes he was supposed to be in the lounge to meet with the convention planner. He could get a shower, shave and dress in less than ten, if the kids would hurry up and complete their purchase.
One of the children dropped more pennies on the floor. The two kids and their mother dropped to their haunches to collect the coins.
At that rate, he’d never get ready in time for his meeting.
Still, he couldn’t be impatient with the children, their mother was trying to teach them it cost money for treats and how to pay for things they want. One of the pennies rolled toward his foot and he bent to pick it up.
The boy looked about the same age as Little Johnnie who’d kicked him in the shin, only this child smiled up at him instead of glaring. “Thank you, sir,” he said. He had dark auburn hair and freckles on his nose.
Wyatt pictured the woman in the pink shorts as the mother of this child and immediately he glanced across at the child’s mother who had a lighter shade of red hair and no freckles. Whew. He hadn’t been lusting after someone’s wife or mother—as far as he knew.
She helped the boy and the small girl hand over the change and grabbed the candy bar. “We’ll split it after dinner. Come on, this gentleman has been waiting long enough.”
“No hurry, ma’am,” he assured her, even though he stood a strong chance of being late for his meeting with the event planner. F. Allen would just have to cool his heels. Wyatt was too sweaty from his jog to meet with anyone.
His purchases paid for, Wyatt retrieved his duffle bag from where he’d stashed it behind the concierge’s desk and fished his key card, from an inside pocket. He’d checked in earlier, but his room hadn’t been quite ready. Rather than stand around the lobby, he’d gone for a jog that served two purposes: blowing out the cobwebs and giving him a tactical lay of the land.
Key card in hand, he hurried to the elevator, a shower and a shave at the top of his priority list. He rode up to the floor he’d been assigned, slid his key card in the door lock and entered. As soon as the door closed behind him, he tossed his duffle bag next to the dresser, stripped out of his vest, gun and shorts and made a beeline for the bathroom, anticipating just enough time to make his meeting.
That was when he pushed the door open and ran chest-first into an intruder. His pulse leapt and he grabbed her hands, slamming her against the wall, his instincts on self-preservation. Surprise sharpened his voice as he said the first thing that came into his head. “Who the hell are you? And why are you in my room?”
After his gut reaction to slam the intruder against the wall, his mind had a full two-second delay before it engaged.
Wide green eyes stared up at him. Eyes he recognized from an earlier encounter beside the river. It was the redhead he hadn’t stopped thinking about. And she looked pissed.
“Let go of me or I’ll scream,” she cried, her naked breasts pressing into his chest with every breath she took.
No longer on alert, he relaxed, but he didn’t let go of her wrists. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing in my room.”
“Your room? This is my room and you’re trespassing.”
“I have a key and a receipt indicating this was the room assigned to me at the desk. Which means, darlin’, you’re in the wrong room.”
“I have the same, and I don’t appreciate being held captive without any clothes on. Perhaps we can take this discussion down to the desk, after we’ve both had a chance to dress.” Though her words were matter-of-fact and forceful, color had crept up her neck and bloomed in her cheeks.
Wyatt relented and released her wrists, stepping back, reluctantly. Too late, he realized his body had reacted to hers and his cock jutted out, hard and ready to take it from there.