Jill Shalvis - Room Service

Emmaline kept her gaze locked on Jacob’s. “Something’s not adding up.”

“What?”

“Why would you need to be set up?” The moment the words left her mouth, she looked embarrassed. “It’s just that you don’t look like you’d need any help in that area.”

“Thank you.”

“Actually, I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

He grinned. Yeah, he liked her. “My friend Pru, the sommelier who helped you pick out your wine, she thinks I need to experience a ‘real’ relationship. That’s because hers have all been so important to her-she’s convinced I’m missing out by not experiencing that.”

Em shook her head. “See, now this should be in the friendship handbook. When you fall in love, you should be required to contain your happiness and not try to spread it around.”

“No one’s in love.”

“Your friend…”

He was shaking his head.

“What was she doing in her ‘real’ relationship then?”

“Having lots of sex, I imagine.”

Her brows vanished beneath her bangs. “So you both have something against love?”

“I didn’t say I did.”

“You didn’t have to. It was in your tone.”

He just eyed her while she smiled at him, seeming quite amused at his expression. “So we’ve just discovered something you don’t do,” she said thoughtfully. “That’s good, actually. I’m relieved to find out you’re not perfect.”

A shocked laugh escaped him. How long had it been since someone challenged him? Too long, if this was giving him a thrill. “I have a thing against the way people fling the love word around,” he said, knowing this area was a deal breaker for most women, who wholeheartedly bought into the love myth, to the point that it tainted their every date.

Not him. There wasn’t a single dab of naiveté or innocence left in him, and he hadn’t believed in something as elusive and unattainable as the Easter Bunny or love since he was four years old. Truth was truth. Love was nothing but a big, fat pain in the ass. “I’ll tell you one thing,” he said.

“And what’s that?”

“The night’s too good to waste it philosophizing on some emotion that may or may not exist.”

“True enough.”

He had to get back to the kitchen. They both knew it, and yet Jacob wanted to stall longer, keep her talking. Or at least smiling at him like that.

But she pushed her now-empty plate away. “That was heavenly. Thank you so much.”

When she stood, he did as well, taking her hand and bringing it up to his mouth. “Have a great night,” he murmured, his lips against her skin.

She looked up into his eyes, hers a little dazed as she shook her head. “You’re probably the only man I know who could pull off that ridiculously romantic gesture.”

Lightly he scraped his teeth against her knuckles, taking the “romantic gesture” straight into raw sexual mode. He noted her sharp inhale. “Enjoy your stay,” he said softly, and let her pull her hand free.

Still staring at him, she brought her hand up to her cheek, the movement oddly tender and vulnerable. But instead of feeling as if he had the upper hand as she turned and walked off into the hotel, he felt as if he needed to sit down.

Or touch her again.

EM TOOK THE ELEVATOR without incident. Meaning no gorgeous stranger stepped on, pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless.

She told herself the vague disappointment in her gut was about the cooking program. He’d said the thought of being on his own show sounded like a nightmare.

God. What now? When the doors opened on the twelfth floor, she looked down the hall at her door, decided she wasn’t ready to be alone and headed toward Liza’s room instead. Hopefully Eric had gotten her tucked safely into bed and-

And Eric was sitting on the floor right outside Liza’s room, head back against the door, looking miserable.

“Eric?” She crouched before him and took his hand in hers. “Honey, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I tucked her in. She’s out like a light. Did you know she snores?”

“Like a buzz saw. But what are you still doing here?”

“I…” Closing his eyes, he lightly thunked his head back against the door. “Nothing. Never mind.” He rose to his feet. “’Night.”

She caught his arm before he got away. “Eric.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair, tousling the golden ends. “I brought her up here intending to…” Now he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I wanted to…”

“I know.” She laid a hand on his arm. “But she was drunk. You did the right thing by walking away, no matter how much in love with her you still are.”

Eric’s gaze flew to hers. “I’m not…”

Em just looked at him.

“I’m really not…”

Em smiled gently and stroked her hand up his tense arm.

“Shit,” he said. “I am. Tell me she doesn’t know.”

“Are you kidding? Our Liza? She’s pretty much only thinking about her own feelings at the moment.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “She couldn’t even get out of her clothes-she insisted I unzip her dress. Then the little fool tripped over it and I had to-” He groaned, walked down the hallway and stalked back. “I had to strip her down and shove her into that bed, and the whole time she was teasing me, asking me if I wanted to kiss her, touch her-”

“She was drunk,” she reminded him softly. “She didn’t mean to be a tease.”

“Yes, she did.”

“Okay, well, she didn’t mean to be cruel about it.”

“Which is the only reason I didn’t-” He scrunched up his face. “ God . She’s going to be the death of me.”

“Have you thought about telling her how you feel?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed harshly. “That’d go over well. I’m the one who cried uncle and walked, remember? I can’t tell her now. She’d just use it against me.”

“I think you’re wrong.” She hugged him. “Look, if you can’t handle this trip, I totally understand.” She needed him, but his happiness meant a lot to her. “You can fly home and I’ll-”

“I can handle this.” He straightened with great resolve. “Trust me, I can handle this.”

“If you’re sure-”

“Very. Did you get the chef tonight?”

“Uh…not yet. Soon. Just get some sleep, okay?”

“Yeah. ’Night.”

She went to her room and sighed at the glorious beach-themed decor that instantly instilled her with a sense of calm peace.

Or would have if tonight had gone off the way it should have.

She kicked off her shoes, her toes sinking inches into the opulent carpet. If she had to be stressed, at least this was a damn fine place to do it. After stripping, she took a long bath in her hot tub, and though she didn’t mean to, she stared at the flickering candles and let her thoughts drift to Jacob Hill-to that first moment when he’d stepped onto that elevator and stolen her breath, to the way he kissed her, to how he’d looked at her after he’d done so.

Silly as it seemed, in that beat of time, she’d lost a little part of herself to him. And whether he admitted it or not, he’d lost a little piece of himself to her, too. She’d seen it in his eyes.

And it hadn’t been just that. He’d gotten hard. She’d felt him when he’d pressed up against her, and remembering, alone in the tub, her body heated, tingled.

The carefully placed jets didn’t help ease any of that but only heightened the arousal, leaving her aching and unfulfilled and…hungry for far more than a kiss, damn it.

She could imagine it, the two of them in bed. Given the way the man walked, talked and cooked with such utter confidence and effortless ease, she knew he would do things to her that would be out of this world.