“Yes, I always get them when I fly. It’s so annoying. I’ll be fine, but I might have to lie down, so if I go missing this afternoon, you’ll know where I am. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“Of course, yes.” He thinks for a moment. “I’ll let them know.”
Three hours later, the strong hands go up the center of my spine and then slowly slide down around my naked hips.
The room is darkened, the relaxing music has a deep sensual beat, and the smell of the masseur’s aftershave is doing things to my lady parts.
Pierre’s hands slide up my back. He drizzles hot oil, and it gives me a thrill as I close my eyes.
Now . . . this . . . is more like it.
“Is this all right?” he asks in his strong French accent.
“Perfect,” I breathe.
Oh man, this is more than perfect; this is spectacular. I’m doing this every day.
Screw the conference.
His hands roam down my back, and I smile into the table.
My phone rings in my bag. It’s loud and would be annoying to people in the other rooms. “Oh, sorry.” I wince. “It will stop in a minute.”
It rings all the way out and then starts to ring again. Shit. “Sorry.” We wait for it to stop, and it starts again. Damn it, what if something’s wrong back home? “I’m sorry; can you pass me my bag, please?”
He picks up my bag and passes it to me, and I dig around for my phone. I don’t recognize the number. “Hello.” I lie back down.
“Where are you?” Tristan barks. “You are missing the workshops.”
Oh shit. “Umm . . .”
“And don’t even think about lying to me, Claire. I know you’re not in your hotel room.”
I frown at his tone. Who the fuck does this guy think he is? “Excuse me?”
“Where are you?” he sneers.
“I’m getting a massage, actually.”
“What?” he gasps.
“Your lecture was intolerable and completely boring. I have better things to do. Goodbye, Mr. Miles.”
“Claire Anderson,” he begins to scold me, and I press “End Call.” I turn my phone on silent and throw it onto the chair in the corner. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
Pierre’s strong hands go down over my ribs and then lower to my hip bones, and I feel a twinge of arousal sweep through me.
I smile with my eyes closed. Hmm . . . it really is fun being a bitch.
Pierre’s hands roam over my stomach.
Now this . . . is relaxing.
Tristan
I stand near the bar with my drink in hand. “So then I got another fifty thousand followers from that boost alone,” Saba says.
“Wow, that’s fantastic,” Melanie replies.
I’m standing with four beautiful women, but I’m bored as hell. I fly out first thing in the morning.
My eyes scan the room. Where is she?
“So, Mr. Miles, are you married?”
My eyes snap back to the blonde in front of me. “Please, call me Tristan. And no, not married.”
“A girlfriend, perhaps?” Saba asks.
“No.” I sip my drink. “Very single.”
“Really?” Saba says in a sexy voice. “Me too. Talk about great timing.”
I fake a smile. “It’s always a great time to be single, isn’t it?”
The girls all laugh on cue, and I look around the room. If she doesn’t come tonight, I’m going to be pissed.
“I just broke off my engagement,” Melanie replies.
I look her over. She’s blonde and beautiful—my usual type—and I make myself nod as I act interested.
“I just really want to focus on my goals right now, and my ex just wasn’t moving in the right circles—you know what I mean? He wanted a house in the suburbs with three kids, and I want more from life than that,” she continues. “I want a global empire.”
“Oh, totally,” the girls all agree.
“I had that too with my ex. Why don’t they get it?” one of the other girls says.
Oh fuck . . . get me out of here.
I wave at a colleague. “I’m going to see my friend.” I turn to walk off.
“Tristan,” Saba calls.
I turn back to her.
“Maybe we could do some revision of the notes I took today.” She smiles sexily. “Later, in my room.”
“Ahh . . .” I look between the women.
“I mean . . .” She shrugs. “We could all go over our notes together.” She pulls her fingers through her hair. “The four of us girls and you. Like a group thing.” The girls all smile sexily.