“I’ll bet they have a rollaway cot we can put in the room. I can sleep on the cot—I’ve slept on worse—you can have the bed and we can take turns in the shower.”
“No.”
“At least until the manager has another cancellation.”
“I’m not sleeping in the same room as you. I don’t even know you. You could be a pervert, or worse.”
Wyatt gave her his most convincing smile. “Or I could be nice guy forced to share a room with a very inflexible event planner. I can be trusted. If you don’t believe me, check my references.” He handed her his phone. “Call my boss. Better yet—” he took back his phone, “—call your contact with the government. They can get a background check on me faster, and they’re not biased.”
She glared at him. “I need the room to myself. How am I supposed to work with someone else in there?”
“The room is to sleep in. And I’ll be out checking on security staff at the convention center during the day and into the evening hours.”
The manager had been watching their exchange, his gaze shifting from Fiona to Wyatt and back with each verbal lob. Finally, he glanced at his watch. “Ms. Allen, I need an answer. The hotel is full and my people are working with a system that has proven less than reliable. I need to help them out.”
Fiona nodded. “Fine. You can give the bodyguard the open room. Mr. Magnus and I will share our room. If you can get us a rollaway bed. Now all I need is a gun to tuck under my pillow in case he tries anything funny.”
The manager’s eyes widened. “Ms. Allen, talking about guns might not be prudent at this time.” He nodded toward the cops.
Fiona flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “Fine.” Then she turned to Wyatt and whispered for his ears only, “I will be checking on your references and I have my concealed carry license, so I will be packing should you think you can take advantage of me when we’re alone.”
Wyatt wanted to laugh out loud and would have if he didn’t think she was serious. Fiona Allen carrying a gun scared him almost as much as the radical and dangerous Somali militants. But he wouldn’t let her know that. He’d just have to show her how trustworthy he could be.
Following her up to their shared room, he began to wonder if he could keep his hands to himself. The sway of her hips and the ramrod straight back on her petite frame practically begged to be loosened. And he knew just how to massage the stiffness out her. If she’d let him close enough, and if she didn’t shoot him first.
Chapter Four
Fiona swiped her card and entered the room first, every nerve cell in her body completely aware of the man behind her. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t share a room with a perfect stranger.
And based on her earlier observations of his naked body, he was perfect in every physical way possible. All the more reason why she couldn’t sleep in the same room with him.
Hell, sleep would be the furthest thing from her mind. As another thought occurred to her, her pulse leapt and heat rose up her throat into her cheeks. Did he sleep naked? Holy hell.
She made an abrupt about face. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going to work.”
“So you’ll be leaving?” he asked.
“No, you will.”
He shook his head. “I’ve done my share of sleeping on the hard ground. I’m in a hotel, not a campground. If you want to leave and let me have the room, fine.”
A knock on the door made Fiona jump.
Wyatt opened it to a bellboy with the rollaway.
Just when she didn’t think it could be worse, the bellboy had to be prompt.
“Where do you want it?” he asked.
Wyatt pointed to a space near the desk and an easy chair. “Right there for now.”
The bellboy parked the bed where indicated and left the room before Fiona spoke again.
“You’re not staying,” she said.
“Relax. You’ll barely know I’m here.”
Like hell. He was all she could focus on. His broad shoulders practically filled the room, making it feel smaller with each breath she inhaled. “Look, I’m not happy about this situation. I like my space and, frankly, you’re invading it.”
“I’m here for the job, sweetheart, not you. Besides…” he cupped her cheek with his big, callused hand, “…you’re not my type.”
The warmth of his hand on her face made her want to lean into his palm, until his words hit her like a splash of chilled water. She straightened away from that dratted hand. “What do you mean?”
“About the job or the type?” He grinned, raising her ire another notch.
“Not your type? Just what is your type?”
His grin broadened, those full, kissable lips doing funny things to her insides. “Well, you got part of it right earlier. The naked part. But I also like my women willing.” He winked, grabbed his duffle bag and dropped it on the rollaway. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pay a visit to my buddy with the dogs.”
“And I have to head over to my office for an hour or two.” She glanced around the room again before shooting a narrow-eyed glare at him. “Don’t touch my things.”
He gave her mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean…Fiona.” He cupped her cheek again and leaned in until his lips hovered over hers. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Knowing it was all wrong but unable to stop herself, she leaned closer until their lips connected. A jolt of electricity shot through her, instantly heating places she’d thought cold for a long time.
Wyatt’s hand slipped behind her neck and he applied pressure, his mouth taking hers in a deep, satisfying kiss.
When his tongue swept across hers, she opened eagerly, her tongue greeting his hungrily. Her brain disengaged and her body took over. Fiona slid her hands up his chest. When she should have been shoving him away, she linked her fingers behind his neck and pressed her breasts to his chest. She slid her leg up the back of his, her pussy pressing against the thick muscle of his thigh, an ache building deep in her core.
Wyatt’s hands slipped beneath her shirt and up her ribs, his thumbs brushing against her breasts. In that moment, she wished she was as naked as she’d been at their earlier meeting. The way he touched her made the bones in her legs dissolve. Why did he have to be so damned attractive with his muscular body and high-and-tight haircut? Couldn’t the government find a white-haired old man to oversee the security of this shindig? She could handle that.
When he broke off the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers and chuckled. “I didn’t see that coming.”
Knowing she was as much at fault for initiating that kiss as he was, she stepped away, scrubbing her hands down the front of her skirt. If he hadn’t backed off first, where would that kiss have led? Butterfly wings beat against the insides of her belly and her glance darted to the bed, and a sharp pull of longing swelled inside. This was wrong on so many levels. She wasn’t sure how sharing a room with Wyatt would turn out, but it couldn’t end up good.
Or it could end up way too good… Her insides tightened and a thrill of anticipation raced through her body. How long had it been since she’d had sex?
No, this was not how she envisioned this event starting.
Eager to get to the office and out of the overwhelming presence of Wyatt Magnus, she moved toward the door. “Gotta go.”
“Me too.”
She held up her hand. “For the sake of sanity, give me a head start. I need some time to think.”
“As you wish, darlin’,” he said with a serious poker face. Then he ruined it with a sexy grin. “Hopefully, you’ll spend some time thinking of me.”