Tall, Dark...Westmoreland! / The Moretti Seduction. Brenda Jackson
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he said into the phone.
She watched a huge smile brighten his face, and at the same time, she felt intense heat gather at the junction of her thighs.
“Thanks, man. I owe you one,” he said. She then watched as he clicked off the phone and put it in his pocket. He glanced over at her. “Okay, Wonder Woman. Everything is set. We’re on the sixteenth floor. Room sixteen thirty-two. Ready?”
She exhaled slowly. A part of her wanted to tell him that, no, she wasn’t ready. She wanted to know how he’d arranged everything from a parking lot. Another part of her needed to know how he was capable of making her feel things that no other man had ever made her feel before. How was he able to get her to take risks when she was the least impulsive person that had ever lived? At least she had been risk averse until she’d seen him at the party tonight.
She met his gaze, knowing this would be it. Once she got out of the car and walked into that hotel with him, their night together would begin. Was that what she really wanted? He was staring at her, and his gaze seemed to be asking her that same question.
She drew in a deep breath and nodded her head and said, “Yes, I’m ready.”
He then opened the car door for her. “You go on ahead, and I’ll follow within five minutes. The bank of elevators you should use is the one to the right of the check-in desk,” he said.
“Okay.”
He watched as she placed the strap of her purse on her shoulder before walking away. He smiled as she gracefully crossed the parking lot and headed toward the entrance to the hotel. He couldn’t help but admire the way she looked in her dress, a silky number that swished around her legs whenever she made a movement. And she had the legs for it. Long, shapely legs that he could imagine wrapped around him, holding him inside her body during the heat of passion.
He was so into his thoughts that when she suddenly stopped walking, his heart nearly stopped beating. Had she changed her mind? Moments later he gave a deep sigh of relief when he realized she had stopped to remove her mask. He wondered if she would take the risk and turn around to let him see her face, voluntarily revealing her identity. He got his answer when she began walking again without looking back. He had a feeling that that was how the entire night would go. Identities and names would not be shared. Only passion.
He would respect her wishes, and when he joined her in the hotel room, his mask, too, would be back in place.
There was no doubt in his mind that this would be a night he would always remember.
Two
Olivia was grateful that no one seemed to pay her any attention when she walked into the huge lobby of the Saxon. It had always been her dream to spend a night in what had to be one of the most elegant hotels ever built. It was more stylish and extravagant than she had expected. There were only a few Saxons scattered about the country, in the major cities, and all had a reputation of providing top-quality service.
When she stepped onto the elevator that would carry her to the sixteenth floor, she couldn’t help but again wonder about the man behind the mask and the connections he seemed to have. Reservations were hard to get because the hotel was booked far in advance, even as much as a year.
As she stepped out of the elevator and walked down the spacious hall, she studied the decor. Everything had a touch of elegance and class. With an artist’s eye, she absorbed every fine detail of not only the rich and luxurious-looking carpet on the floor but also of the beautiful framed portraits that lined the walls. She would bet a month of her salary at the Louvre that those were original Audubon prints. If they devoted this much time and attention to the hallways, she could only imagine what one of the rooms would look like.
She wondered what Jack Sprat thought of her taste, since she was the one who’d guided him here. Of course, she would pay tonight’s bill, since coming here was her idea. Connections or no connections, this place was her choice and not his, so it would only be fair. The last thing she wanted to do was come off as a thoughtless, high-maintenance woman.
Moments later she stood in front of room 1632. She didn’t have a key and could only assume the door was unlocked. There was only one way to find out. She turned the handle and smiled when it gave way without a problem. She slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. Quickly closing the door, she glanced around, her eyes widening. This had to be a penthouse suite. She hadn’t expected this, wasn’t even sure she would be able to pay for it. She had figured on a regular room, which, though costly, would have been within her budget.
She was paid well, and loved Paris, but eventually she intended to return to the United States. She planned to open an art gallery in a few years, and that took money. Every penny she earned went into her special savings. Her father and brothers had promised to invest in the venture, but she felt that it was her responsibility to come up with the majority of the capital for her gallery. This little tryst was going to cost her. She would have to dip into her savings to pay for this suite. She wondered if just one night with a stranger could possibly be worth the sacrifice.
She crossed the room, drawn to the stately furnishings. She had stayed in nice hotels before, but there was something about a Saxon that took your breath away. Besides the elegant luxury that surrounded you, there was also the personalized service, culinary excellence and other amenities, which she had often heard about, but had yet to experience.
She walked through the sitting area to the bedroom. Her gaze moved from the plush love seat in the room to the bed. The bed was humongous and stately; the covering was soft to the touch. It felt as if you could actually lose yourself under it. The bedcoverings and curtains were done in an elegant red and a single red rose had been placed in the middle of the bed. Very romantic.
The connecting bath was just as stunning, with a huge Jacuzzi tub that sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a wall-to-wall vanity the likes of which she’d never seen in a hotel. Everything was his and hers, and the bathroom was roomy, spacious.
Nervously, she walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.
When she was growing up, people had often said she was spoiled and pampered, and in a way, she had been. Being the only girl in the house had had its advantages. She had been only three years old when her mother left her father, ran off with a married man and destroyed not one, but two families. She would always admire her father for doing what had to be done to hold their family together. He’d worked long and hard hours as a corporate attorney and still had been there for her piano recitals and art shows and her brothers’ Little League games. And one year he had even gotten elected president of the PTA. It hadn’t been easy, and everyone had had to pitch in and help. And she could now admit that her brothers had made it easier for her.
Leaving home for college had been good for her. Against her father’s and brothers’ wishes, she had worked her way through college, refusing the money they would send her. She’d needed to encounter the real world and sink or swim on her own while doing so.
She’d learned how to swim.
She glanced at her watch. Chances were that Jack Sprat was on his way up, so now was not the time to get nervous. She had come on to him at the party, and he had come on to her. They were here because a night together was what they both wanted. So why was she thinking about hightailing it all of a sudden? Why were butterflies flying around her stomach? And what was with the darn goose bumps covering her arms?
She stood and began pacing. He would be here at any moment, so she stopped and took the time to put her mask back on. In a way she felt silly, but at the same time mysterious.
Olivia glanced at her watch again. She felt her body heating up just thinking about what would happen when he did arrive. To say she was fascinated by a complete stranger would be an understatement. If anyone had told her that within less than forty-eight hours of returning to Atlanta, she, Olivia Jeffries, would be involved in an affair to nowhere, she would not have believed them. Usually she was very conservative, but not tonight.
She caught her breath when she thought she heard footsteps