Page 107 of Maneater
“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says.
“A fucking comedian,” Rory grumbles.
“He’s heading back in,” Rowan says, all humor out of his tone. Tanya is…headed to the lobby.”
“Got it,” I say, straightening as Daniel comes back in with an apologetic smile on his lips.
And a very pink cheek. Almost like he was slapped.
“Everything okay?” I ask as he sits, then shrugs.
“Oh, yeah. She just…” He looks around like he’s looking for someone who will tell on him before he lowers her voice. “She gets jealous.”
I tip my head. “Of what? Me?”
He smiles then, wide and confident. “I mean, anyone would be jealous of you,” he says. “But anyone I give a lick of attention to.”
“Why? You’re just coworkers, right?”
A blush creeps over his cheeks. “Well…we hooked up once,” he says. I call bullshit internally as he continues. “But I think she’s more into me than I am into her. She had just gotten out of a pretty serious relationship, and I don’t think I should have taken her up on her offer.”
“I totally understand that,” I say with sympathy, though Tanya just shot to the top of my list. If she’s jealous of Daniel, who seems to flirt with everything that moves, she would have motivation to make his job a misery.
Daniel changes the subject quickly, and my—our—main entrée comes out, and we fall back into the same pattern of boring conversation. I’m trying to drag every moment out of dessert and praying I won’t have to convince Daniel to have an after-dinner drink with me when I get confirmation.
“Rory’s done,” a voice in my ear says, gravelly and hot. A thrill runs through my body, both at his tone and the fact that we’ve completed another step in our plan. It’s why I love this job: the excited thrill that runs through me when we accomplish something, the insane endorphins that rush through me. I usually hop on a treadmill or do a workout when I feel it, but the idea that I have amore than willing companion here to burn off this excess, excited energy sends that feeling buzzing higher. “Get out of there as soon as you can. Meet me in my room.”
My pulse skyrockets at his tone, filled with promise and need and desire.
Oh, I amsogetting it good tonight.
“That was phenomenal,” Daniel says, knocking me out of my haze as he sits back with his hand patting his stomach.
“It really was,” I agree, despite the fact that I had one bite of the chocolate cake. I don’t even care: after Rowantakes careof me, I know he’ll take care of me in another way, ordering a dozen different room service meals for us to pick at. “Thank you for a wonderful night.”
“It doesn’t have to end here,” he says, leaning forward with a suddenly smarmy smile on his lips. “We could continue it, head to the bar, get a few drinks, see where the night takes us.” I fight the curl of my lip, and I’m grateful my hands are in my lap because it makes it easier for me to grab my napkin and place it on the table. “I’m off in,” he says, looking at his watch. “Twenty minutes.”
I check my watch and give him a faux sad look. “Unfortunately, I have an early bedtime. Thanks for the offer, though. Maybe next time?”
He looks disappointed, but I’m already standing, and making a scene wouldn’t be a great look, especially not when he’s supposed to beworking.
“Oh, uh. Yeah. That would be…that would be great.”
He stands as well, moving around the table toward me. “I’ll be at the pool early tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll see you there?”
“Wonderful. I’d love to,” I say. He puts out two arms to give me a hug, and I awkwardly reach up to shake his hand. Before he can take it, there’s a shout from the kitchen, then more shouts echoing throughout the restaurant we’re in. My head snaps around, looking for what’s causing the disturbance before I hear it.
“A mouse!”
Except it’s not just a single mouse skittering through the restaurant and, presumably, the kitchen. It’s at least a dozen tiny, furry little things, squeaking as they run along the floor of the restaurant. Guests scream, and dishes fall as people panic and quickly move toward the exits. A woman even gets on a table like some kind of cartoon, though my gaze moves right to Daniel, assessing.
That’s when I see he is sitting on the chair, feet up, arms around his knees in fear, like he’s afraid one of the surprisingly cute mice will climb up his pant leg.
Sighing, I mentally cross out Daniel.
“Oh my god, they wereeverywhere,” I say, walking into our room a few hours later. Rowan is stuck downstairs, once again having to appease guests, deal with the police, update his previous report, and handle an exterminator. This time, however, he’s on our team, so we know anything he sees or hears will come back to us.
Right now, I just want a shower to wash away the tiredness of the night.
