Melinda Di Lorenzo - Undercover Protector

He sighed and ran a hand over his shaggy locks. “Look. It just kind of happened.”

“What did?”

“I was checking in, and the girl behind the counter was friendly. Chatty. You know those dolls where you pull a string to make them talk?”

“Yes.”

“She was like that. Only her string got stuck and she just kept going.”

Nadine fought a laugh. “That’s not very nice.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It was just a very full five minutes. She told me all about her life and the guy she was marrying. Her high school sweetheart. And she wanted to hear about me. So I told her my cover story, which is that I’m here visiting a friend at the care center.”

“Me.”

“Yes.”

“What does that have to do with the room?”

“When I said friend, the girl at the counter took that to mean something more.”

“And you didn’t correct her?”

“It didn’t seem important. And actually...”

“Actually what?”

“Let’s get to the elevator first.”

Nadine started to argue, then caught the obvious embarrassment on his face and relented temporarily. “Fine.”

“We should take the service elevator. We’ll run into fewer people, and if someone from the staff questions us, we’ll plead error.”

“Are we really that conspicuous?”

“I’m not.” He cast a pointed look toward her legs.

She looked down and spotted her hospital-issue pajama pants. “Oh.”

“I did offer to get you some clothes a few days ago.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I wouldn’t dare. Let’s go.”

She let him lead her across the cement. They moved past a set of slick faux-wood doors that led to the main elevators, then around a corner and up to another, far more utilitarian setup—plain gray metal. Anderson tugged on the handle, then stepped back to allow her to pass through first.

“What, no further criticism of my politeness?” he joked as she stepped across the threshold.

“I’ve temporarily suspended my aversion to it.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Don’t be. I might change my mind once I hear what you have to say about what you told the girl at the front desk.”

His expression turned sheepish, and he didn’t speak until they were in the elevator and on the way up.

“Once the check-in girl had put the idea out there,” he said, “it seemed like a better option. Being your boyfriend instead of your friend gave me a better excuse for my vigil outside your room.”

Nadine had to push off yet another need to blush and instead asked, “But if you were my boyfriend, why would you be staying at the lodge in the first place? Why wouldn’t you stay at my place?”

Anderson cleared his throat. “Exactly what she wanted to know.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“The first thing that came to mind. That you and I had a fight.”

“About what?”

“You want to know what our fictional fight was about?”

“I think I have a right to know.”

“What makes you even think I told the check-in girl what it was about?”

“Because you got a suite, and you didn’t get it just because you lied about being my boyfriend. And speaking of lying...” Nadine crossed her arms. “I thought you were Mr. Honesty.”

“Mr. Nice Guy,” he corrected. “And aside from the fake name—which was a necessity—and the fake fight—which was a knee-jerk-reaction kind of excuse—the girl filled in the rest on her own. I mentioned she was chatty, didn’t I?”

She rolled her eyes. “And what did she fill in?”

“That I was getting ready to propose, and you ran off to Whispering Woods to avoid me.”

“Well, that’s a hell of a leap.”

Anderson chuckled. “You have no idea. One second I was single guy, checking into a hotel for a few days, and the next, I was chasing after a woman who refused to marry me.”

“I’m afraid to ask how that led to the suite,” she said.

“Well. When you see which suite it is, you might be able to fill in a few things on your own.”

“Can’t wait.”

“I’m sure.”

The elevator pinged then and came to a smooth stop. But as the doors slid open and Anderson pressed an arm against one of them so she could go by, Nadine had a sudden urge to run. To shove the thick-shouldered man aside and run straight down the hall without looking back. And it wasn’t fear that fueled the need. It wasn’t even some unspecific kind of apprehension. It was anticipation. An unexpected tingle that licked warmly up her feet and hands, moved inward, then settled somewhere in her gut. It was a heady feeling. Dangerous. Unexpected. And directly related to her attraction to Anderson and the fact that she was about to be very, very alone with him.

Well, that...and the gold-plated sign that hung on the wall just in view.

Honeymoon Suite.

And it got worse. As Nadine forced her feet to move her out into the hall, a girl who couldn’t be more than twenty or so bounced into sight, her ponytail wagging and eyes sparkling at the two of them. Even without an introduction, there was no doubt about who she was—the chatty storyteller who was trying to seal Nadine and Anderson into a fake engagement.

* * *

Anderson stifled a groan. In his mind, it was already awkward enough that he’d been forced to confess to having gone along with the assumptions made by the check-in girl. Now he was going to have to own it, too. Taking a breath, he forced a smile onto his face. Then he slung his arm over Nadine’s shoulders as casually as he could manage and bent a little to whisper, “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It worked!” the check-in girl squealed as she approached. “I told you it would!”

“You sure did,” Anderson agreed.

She turned her eyes to Nadine. “How did he do it? What part convinced you? Tell me the room had something to do with it! It was the room, wasn’t it? Wait—why aren’t you wearing the ring?”

“The ring?” Nadine repeated, her voice almost faint.

“You don’t have it? It’s still stuck down that sink?” Her eyes flicked between them. “Wait. You haven’t even asked her yet, have you? Oh! I let the cat out of the bag?”

“Little bit,” Anderson managed to say.

The girl’s smile only faltered for a second. “Well. It’s a good thing I came up to change the flowers in the nook. Ask her now.”

“Now?”

“She’s obviously not going to say no. Otherwise she wouldn’t have come to the suite. Or the hotel at all. Besides that, I’m the perfect witness. Not so much of a crowd that she feels like she has to say yes, but the perfect person to capture the moment if she says yes. Give me your phone.”

“My phone?”

“How else am I going to record it for you?”

Anderson eased away from Nadine, dug the slim device from his pocket and handed it over. The girl’s grin just about split her face.

“Okay,” she said. “Don’t forget to get down on one knee. You want it to be good.”

Anderson shrugged helplessly at Nadine. Her eyes were wide, her bottom lip tugged in. She looked nervous bordering on terrified, and Anderson wondered how that was going to translate in the recording.

He leaned toward her ear again. “You’re going to have to fake it a little better than that, honey. Even Little Miss Chatterbox won’t be fooled if you look like I’m trying to push you off a cliff.”

Her lips turned up in an almost passable smile. “I might be fighting an urge to strangle you right now.”

“Just a few moments and one proposal and you can strangle away.” He winked, then dropped to his knee and shot a genuine smile up at her. “Nadine Elise Stuart. For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve sparked something special in me. I can honestly say you know more about me than most people. I feel like it only took five minutes to get to that point. Literally. So between that and the fact I’ve never seen anyone look quite so sexy in a pair of hospital pajamas, I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of marrying me?”