Tori Carrington - You Sexy Thing!

“Oh, shit.” Dylan glanced again at the time. He firmly told himself that he hadn’t forgotten Diana. After all the day’s disasters, and last-minute change in plans, he’d just been…distracted, that’s all. And his state of mind had absolutely nothing to do with Grace Mattias. At least not on a personal level. His interest in her was strictly professional.

The sound of a brass horn through the receiver nearly deafened him. “Tanja, where are you?”

“At a jazz joint, of course. Have you never been to Chicago before, Dylan?”

Oh, he’d been to Chicago. Several times. But he’d never even thought about going to a jazz joint.

He found the idea strangely appealing now.

He raked his hand through his hair. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for tomorrow? Seeing as all this sprang up at the last minute—”

“Everything’s taken care of, Dylan. Leave it to me.”

He grimaced. He’d left more to her than he should have and look where that had gotten him. Holed up in a Chicago hotel room in clothes that made him want to turn on rap music. “Tell me why I’m not reassured.”

“Because you’re a control freak, that’s why.” Her laugh took some of the sting out of her words. “Have a good night, Doc. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Dylan began to tell her not to hang up, but couldn’t get the words out before the dial tone buzzed in his ear. Slowly he replaced the receiver in its cradle. A jazz joint? Any hardworking PR person would be mapping out a list of approved questions for tomorrow’s host to ask. Working on a briefing strategy so that he would come away from the interview looking his best. Oh, but not his PR rep. Tanja was too busy hanging out at a jazz joint to do something as tedious as her job.

Stepping to the dining table, he took his cell phone from his briefcase. He had, indeed, neglected to turn it back on after the flight. He pressed the auto dial for Diana’s number in San Francisco at the same time a knock sounded at the front door. Listening to the line ring, he pulled open the door to find Gracie standing in the hall smiling at him.

“Room service,” she said, breezing past him into the room.

Clutching the phone to his ear, he turned to watch her walk by. Her form-fitting white tank top skimmed over generous breasts. And her very short skirt fit across her pert little bottom.

Dylan nearly dropped the cell phone when it stopped ringing. “Hello.”

“Hi—”

“You’ve reached the residence of…”

He yanked the phone away from his ear and stared at it. He’d fallen for it again. Turning from where Grace watched him curiously, he finished listening to Diana’s directives, then left a brief message outlining where he was and where she could get a hold of him. When he glanced back at the table, he found Grace had unpacked the food she’d brought along and sat inelegantly munching on a chunk of fresh French bread. “Phone tag, huh?”

Dylan stepped to the table and tossed his cell phone back into his open briefcase. “Yeah.”

She tucked her long, curly red hair behind her ear and smiled up at him. “Always fun.”

Dylan’s gaze was still plastered to her ear and the hair she had tucked behind it. Diana’s hair was blond and short and neat. Gracie’s was red, curly and…wild. Still, he’d never stared at Diana’s hair this way. “Yeah…fun.”

She didn’t seem to notice his inattention and her smile took on a decidedly teasing quality. “Hope it’s not anything important.”

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