Page 14 of Devil's Deal

He continued staring at me, and I felt like I was being dissected. Finally, he inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising in the air before dropping with his exhale, and he scrubbed his hands down his face. “So this has happened before? It’s not just me?” He asked the question so low it was almost as if he was talking to himself. I started to answer when he asked, “Have you called the police, Cory?”

His voice was more friendly, more like it had been earlier. “I did.” I ran a hand through my head. “They couldn’t do anything for me since there was no theft.”

“Do you have cameras?” he asked.

Frustrated, I balled my hands into fists at my side. “We have cameras outside, watching the parking lot. And one in the lobby. I have a security person who patrols the hotel at night. Plus, I’ve been having trouble sleeping, so I walk around. But the break-ins happen during the day. Everest hasn’t noticed anyone creeping around, so I’m lost.”

Bosley nodded his head. “Maybe you should consider putting up camerasinsidethe hotel.”

Again with the emphasis oninside. I dropped my head. “I’ve considered it, but some of our guests require discretion. People don’t want to be watched while they’re on a business trip. They certainly don’t want that intrusion when they’re on vacation. My hotel has always been safe. It should be safe. Applesauce,” I muttered as my rant came to an end.

“Applesauce.” Bosley’s voice held a thread of amusement as he mimicked me.

Embarrassed, I felt heat enter my cheeks. “Sorry. I can’t help it. I, I, uh, know you probably think it’s…” I trailed off. What? Dumb? Moronic? What must he think of me in my suspenders and my newsboy cap, using slang from the twenties?

I jolted when one of his large fingers trailed down the front of my suspenders. “I think it’s cute. Cory.”

Was he making fun of me? “You mean silly.”

“No.” He hooked his fingers into each suspender, tugging a little. “I mean quirky. I like interesting things, Cory. That’s why I stay in boutique hotels. Usually, I don’t find the staff or the owner near as interesting as you, though.”

Head still bowed, I peeked up at him from under my eyelashes. “Really? You don’t think I’m, uh, we’re over the top?”

He chuckled. “Oh no, I definitely think everything about this place is a little extra, but…” He tipped his head, like he was considering something. “That’s where the appeal comes in.”

“Appeal?” I choked out.

He tugged a little again, and this time, I stumbled a little closer. We were about the same height, evenly matched in so many ways, except the gleam in his piercing blue eyes confused me. It looked like interest, maybe even desire, but that couldn’t be right. He’d called me in here because someone had gone through his stuff. Like, he was angry, right? Shouldn’t he be ranting, demanding a refund? “What are you doing?”

“You’re sure this has happened before, Mr. Cory Letterman? That someone breaking into my room isn’t an anomaly?” he asked in a near whisper.

Applesauce. Applesauce. Applesauce.Was this man—the first one to really spark my interest since Mac passed away—going to beat the crap out of me for this? Did people really do that? I’d had fights break out in Discreet Delights, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t only hotel guests who drank in the speakeasy. It had become a popular hangout spot for locals, and where alcohol flowed, tempers often followed.

I shouldn’t have even let him get this close to me. He’d piqued my interest, and the uncertainty I was feeling about how to handle the break-ins had thrown me off my game. “Mr. Letterman, you’re not answering me.” His breath misted over my face as he drew me even closer, and his gaze bore into mine. “Have other guests really experienced the same thing?”

Hoping to calm him, I went meek, docile, relaxing my shoulders and dropping my own gaze to his Adam’s apple. He’d insinuated he was a Daddy, right? Surely he wouldn’t…but I’d never told him I was a boy. Who knew what he’d do? “Yes.” I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should close until I get to the bottom of this or hire more security. I’m terribly sorry?—”

He placed a finger over my lips, silencing me. “You have a problem on your hands.” My knees nearly buckled. What the hell was he planning? “But I have one, too.” His hand dropped back to my suspender so he had a grip on both of them again.

My gaze bounced back to meet his. “So they did take something?”

“No, all my stuff was still here.” He pursed his lips. “But I had another matter crop up today that I’d hoped to avoid. It’s left me…” He trailed off.

Left him what? In need of a punching bag? Why was he so close? Why hadn’t he done anything yet? I wasn’t usually a fighter, and the thought of hitting a guest was horrifying, but I was strong and fit. If he made this physical, I’d have to go back at him. This was my hotel, my baby, and I wouldn’t be?—

“I think we could both use some stress relief.”

What? “Stress relief? I don’t understand.”

He stroked up and down my suspenders as his tongue licked across his bottom lip. “Don’t you?”

Did I? He couldn’t mean…? I felt my own tongue lick my lips of its own volition, and Bosley grinned devilishly.

“In my fifty years, I’ve found several ways to release tension. Some aren’t worth mentioning, but there are others that might interest you.” As I grew hyper-conscious of his every movement, his fingers slid down my suspenders again, his breath warmed my face, and one of his legs slid between mine.

“Like?” I croaked out. Was it getting hot in here?

“Well, there’s always Vigor. Instead of running on the treadmill, we could hit the weights. Spot each other, or…”

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