Page 60 of Undertow

Shelikesthe power gap. Of course she does.

I manage to keep my irritation in check as I slide the fresh beverage in front of her. But before I can pull away, she captures my hand around the glass.

Flinching, my gaze darts to hers, my stomach dropping at the heat in her eyes.

“I’m staying in suite 905,” she whispers in a seductive tone, her fingers stroking mine before letting go.

I pull my hand back, resisting the urge to shake off the remnants of her touch.

“That’s a nice room. I hope you’re enjoying your stay, miss,” I reply evenly.

Her brows knit for a fraction of a second before smoothing back into a flawless plane. “It’s a beautiful property but...” She trails off, the flirty spark returning to her eyes.

“But?” I ask, having no choice but to take the bait.

“It’s been… boring. Lonely, you know?”

I swallow at her insinuation, silent as she straightens and lifts her drink.

Eyes locked on mine, she guides the small plastic stirrer to her mouth with her tongue. Her lips curve around it for a suggestive suck before she turns and starts away, confident I’ve been hooked.

Except I wasn’t.

I will never be.

Lust is as useless as love.

Besides, I’ve already been assigned to suite 702 and its “lonely” politician for the night.

12

DECAYING HOPE

I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but there’s no other word for the warmth flooding through me as Julia smiles back from the range in her kitchen.

“Make sure you keep the potato slices consistent or they won’t cook evenly,” she warns for the eighth time.

“Hang on. I’m confused. So we need to slice them inconsistently so they don’t cook evenly?”

She whips her head back with a mock glare, and I grin as she throws a potholder at me.

Fair.

I capture it against my chest and pull in a steadying breath when she shakes her head with another smile.

Her face is slightly flushed from the heat of the pan. A strand of hair hangs over her eyes making her look…permanent.

Everything in me wants to brush it away like we’ve earned that exchange, but my hands are embedded in potato juice and my heart can’t afford a moment like that. She’s just another ghost in my life.

I pull my gaze away and focus on my task.

It’s incredible how different this meal feels from the one with Scarlett last night. Julia accepted my vague response when I gothome, but she knew something was wrong. I told her I had a migraine. She didn’t get me painkillers, which means she knew I was lying. Why she didn’t call me on it, I don’t know.

Tonight, though.

Tonight I can breathe again.

So much that I decided not to share the “evidence” I spent yesterday photographing. I should have, Iwill, just… not yet. I can “find” the stash on tomorrow’s shift.

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