Page 22 of Conflict
THE AROMAof delicious vanilla bean coffee pulls me from utterly tranquil slumber. I stretch out, seeing that Shane’s side of the bed is empty. I smile to myself at the thought.
Hisside of the bed.
I walk out to the kitchen, hoping to catch him before he leaves for work. The kitchen, unfortunately, is empty except for a fresh cup of coffee and a note next to it.
Good morning, gorgeous. I wanted to talk this morning, but you looked too peaceful to disturb. Tonight? You’re mine. We need to talk—nothing ominous, I promise. Looking forward to seeing you again. –
-Shane
P.S. Please tell me you’re not sore.
As I go through my morning routine, I wonder exactly what Shane needs to talk to me about. I could sit and stew over it, but it’s vacation, and I’m not going to let my racing mind get the better of me. Nope. I’m going to walk down the beach, keep warm with my coffee and the oversized hoodie I just so happened to snag from Shane last night, and think good thoughts.
In fact, I’ve got Ice Cube in my head telling me it’s going to be a good day.
My phone chimes with a text from Bryan Price, my friend and boss. A text I’ve been waiting ages for.
Bryan: Hope you’re having fun down there. I’m under direct orders from Sawyer not to talk to you about work. But I never listen to him anyway. Word on the street is the competition is heating up on the Fili account. You’ll, more than likely, be on the account when you get back. Good job, killer.
I practically squeal. The Filiatrault acquisition could possibly bring whichever company wins the bid millions. I didn’t work my ass off for seven years to sit in a small accounting department and cut payroll checks. I want to be on the support team of a multimillion-dollar contract and pop the champagne when we win. If Bryan’s text is any indication, this could be my big chance to prove myself to the company. Hell, part of me wants to pack up, head home, and dive right in, but a vision of Shane looming over me as he thrusts into me swims into my mind. I bite my lip, knowing that I could—and usually would—leave with this time as an incredible memory. But what did I call this? My last hurrah. I have plenty of time to throw myself into work as soon as I get home. For now? I’m going to be selfish and have a little more fun. So against my deepest desire (okay, Shane’s inching out work at the moment) I calm my jets and text Bryan back.
Me: The competition is going down! You’re the best, by the way, for defying the boss to give me the good news. Drinks so you can fill me in as soon as we get home!
Knowing Bryan usually has his phone attached to his hand, I’m not surprised when he replies immediately.
Bryan: You got it. Now have fun and pretend I never said a word.
I’m on cloud freaking nine hundred as I leave my condo and head down for another day of lounging on the beach. I’m hoping to run into Shane, giddy to share my news. At the same time, I don’t want to distract him, but a quick squealing session never hurt anyone, right?
I try to be cool and walk across the lobby, slyly darting my gaze around the hotel to catch a sneak peek of him. I wouldn’t mind lounging by the pool and watching him work. With as good as he looked in the dark, I can’t imagine the sight of those muscles rippling in the warm sunshine. The image in my mind makes my mouth water.
And then there he is. I stop at the sight of him standing just outside the front doors. But something’s off. Shane the pool boy last night looks nothing like the Shane I see now. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve gotten to know the man intimately, I’d think it was some long-lost twin. But nope, my thighs squirm on sight, my vagina practically pulsating just from seeing his luscious backside.
When he turns, I’m momentarily stunned. He’s wearing a dark suit with a gorgeous lime-green tie. The color highlights his tan and the blond of his hair, and a pair of expensive sunglasses covers his eyes. But I wonder why in the hell a pool boy would be dressed like this. And when I find the courage to walk towards him, a young woman dressed in a neat pencil skirt and a beige flowy top is nodding at him and writing on a notepad.
“Yes, sir. Right away, Mr. Wellington. We’ll get everything set for you. I’m so sorry for your wait. Mr. Burns came in late last night and he always requests the Blue Orchid room to conduct his international business calls. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“It’s fine, Angela,” he tells the girl with a gruff tone. “I can work just as easily in my suite as I can in the Blue Orchid room. That’s not why I’m leaving.”
Leaving?
Before I can put thought to the words, Angela nods and then turns quickly, squeaking in surprise at my presence.
“Oh, goodness. My apologies, ma’am.” She turns back to Shane. “Sir, I’ll get the Filiatrault file immediately.”
The exchange causes Shane to face me. His mouth drops open, hanging wide, which makes him look stupid and entirely too punchable.
He whips his glasses off, blue eyes meeting mine in earnest. But I’m not falling for it. Nope. I may have been hooked, but I’m reeling myself back in. I don’t actually know if I’m angrier he was going to leave so early, so abruptly, or if the shock of seeing the Filiatrault file in his hands just after learning I’ve been added to the team at Wellsley-Callahan. Okay, so Bryan said most likely, but I believe in positive thinking. It’s as good as my account.
I raise an eyebrow and gesture towards his getup. “Interesting pool boy attire,Mr.Wellington.”
He swallows, and I hate how attractive it is when his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. It’s so freaking masculine, that protrusion in a man’s neck, and even though I have no idea what Shane’s playing at, the sight of it makes me want to lick him.
Sarah, the one who imparted all that penis wisdom in high school, was right all those years ago.
Sex makes girls stupid.
“Alyssa,” he starts, taking a step forward, but I hold my hand up and he stops immediately.
