convince Roman that your date was nothing but ordinary, I suggest you find a way to stop smiling like a schoolgirl. And you might want to consider not humming to yourself while you walk.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “I was humming?”
“Like a smitten kitten.”
I laughed. Never in my life did I think I’d hear a big Russian say the phrase smitten kitten. It was as humorous out loud as it sounded in my head. “Well, thank you for the warning, Hop. I appreciate it.”
“Are you going to see him again?” he called after me as I made for the check-in desk.
“I’m sure you’ll hear it through the grapevine if I do,” I called back.
I made a pit stop at the check-in counters that morning to greet one of my all-time favorite guests—the author W. Parker. The staff working the counter knew the writer was about to arrive, and they were buzzing around behind me like a bunch of excited bees.
“Ladies,” I said as I opened the computer and struggled to click my way through the login screen so I could check the guest in. “Mr. Parker doesn’t like a fuss, remember? Play it cool or wait in the back.”
I received some half-hearted apologies from the three young women, who both descended into fits of giggles when they spied Mr. Parker himself walking through the front doors of the lobby. I banished them to the back room for safe measure.
“Mr. Parker.” I grinned as he approached the desk. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”
“Katie,” he said warmly. “I’ve been as good as a writer on a deadline can be, I suppose. My agent is breathing down my neck. My story is shit. And my muse is being an elusive, fickle bastard.”
I slapped on my best empathetic smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you’re in the right place. The El Cartana has saved you and your work many times before, yes?”
“Indeed.”
“Is this going to be one of those stays where you hardly leave the room? I can alert room service that you’ve arrived and they can build a delivery routine for you if you like. I know you have a tendency to forget to eat while you’re working.”
“What did I do to ever deserve such excellent service?”
I leaned across the counter and winked. “You wrote books that made it much easier for me to be single.”
He laughed. Mr. Parker had a laugh that sounded like honey and molasses. It was smooth and warm, much like the rest of him. His smile was dazzling, his brown eyes kind and deep, and he had a way about him that always made me wonder how he was still single.
I’d fantasized about him more than my fair share of times. Based on the books he wrote, it was practically a guarantee that he would be a God in the bedroom. He knew quite intimately the right way to make love to a woman.
Or at least his characters did.
But I always assumed they were one and the same. There was no way he could get it so right in his books and so wrong in real life. Absolutely no way.
I checked him in and sent a request to room service that he would need meal delivery service three times a day. Mr. Parker thanked me and I gave him his room key.
“You have my number and you know I’m almost always on site,” I said. “If you need anything at all, call me.”
“I don’t want to bother you, Katie. You’re a busy woman.”
“I’m also a very impatient woman and I don’t want to wait longer than I have to for this next book.” I winked. “I promise, I’m happy to help however I can to make your visit smooth so you can get as much done as possible.”
He chuckled. “Ah, of course. Ulterior motives.”
“If you told me a bit of what it was about, I bet it would make it easier for me to wait it out.”
He stroked his clean-shaven sharp jaw. “A girl falls in love with a boy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Such a tease, as always.”
“Don’t worry, Katie. You’ll be among the first to get a copy.”
Chapter 11
Peter
The road up ahead narrowed, so I put a light foot on the brakes and eased to a slower pace as the pavement gave way to yet another dirt road. St. John was full of little back roads like this and I wondered if I’d know my way around this place by the