Page 73 of Choosing Hope
“His flight experienced a delay. He landed at Heathrow twenty minutes ago. Tony’s just picked him up.”
She glances down at a beautiful, delicate bracelet with a tiny clock face on it.
“I’d expect him in about half an hour,” Claudette replies.
How on earth does she know all this?As if I’d asked out loud, she replies.
“He called earlier to ask me to make sure Travis doesn’t leave until Spencer’s had time to meet him.”
“I’ve booked room 212,” Carlo informs Claudette.
“Yes,” she studies me silently, questioning whether Carlo and I are using it together. “I noticed. It’s ready for you whenever you want it.”
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
“Can I organize you both a drink?”
We place our order, and I’m relieved when Claudette leaves us for a few minutes.
“Spencer told me about her. He was right; she’s a beautiful woman,” I say as Claudette slips out of view.
“She’s a desperado, and used to hang on Spencer’s every word,” Carlo hisses.
His voice is so low that I have to lean forward to hear him.
“Basically, she wants a rich husband. I made the mistake of having a night with her six months ago. I’ve been trying to shake her off ever since. Hopefully, your being here will help her understand she’s got no chance.”
I frown.
“Claudette’s a nice girl, but you’re in a different league,” he murmurs, before closing the gap between us to kiss me.
He’s gentle at first, but quickly upgrades our peck to an open-mouthed snog. This is our first sexual contact in years, and his attention elicits a fizzing of excitement swiftly followed by a nagging shred of guilt.
His timing, though, was impeccable, leading me to assume he did it for effect rather than desire. I silently admonish myself to tamp down my flushes of excitement. Carlo’s playing a game.
Claudette places our drinks down beside us as he breaks our connection, and we thank her.
“Is there anything else I can get for either of you this evening?” she politely inquires.
“No, thank you,” Carlo responds on behalf of us both. Eyeing me with dark, lust-filled eyes. “I think we’ve got everything we could want.”
His voice is deep, and so loaded with desire, that my body responds to him, disregarding my prior warning.
“If you need anything, drinks; more personnel in your room, just buzz me,” she says.
Her lack of subtlety surprises me when I’m sitting so close.
He reluctantly drags his gaze from me, turning to her. I take a moment to examine him. Carlo is so handsome, with his jet-black hair and dark brown eyes. He’s wearing a pale blue shirt today; the triangle of skin at the open neck is as tempting as ever.
“Actually, there is one thing you can do.”
Claudette nods eagerly, shifting her whole body to face him; she’d only need to stick her tongue out to complete the visualization in my mind of a dog, panting with the need for attention from its owner. I have to fight my lips’ inclination to curl up into a smile, certain Carlo’s playing her for our amusement.
“When Spencer arrives, don’t mention Sophie by name immediately. Just tell him you saw me dancing with a beautiful woman in a red dress, who has a lily tattoo just like his on her right buttock.” He grins and winks at her. “When he’s peeled himself off the ceiling, let him know which room we’re in, but do not, under any circumstances, give him admittance to that room.”
Her eyes grow wide.
“I want the corridor blocked. Nobody else can look through the viewing window, only Spencer.”
