Just Home for the Holidays - Deborah Cooke Page 0,46

more than most people brought to work. It wouldn’t fit in a locker, either. He couldn’t check into the hotel until four, which meant after his shift.

He was just thinking that he could head down to Grand Central Terminal and check his bags there, when there was a soft tap at the door of the room he’d commandeered.

His heart jumped. He wasn’t going to answer, then there was a little shuffle of sound.

A piece of paper slid under the door.

He moved silently to read it.

It’s Chloe. Are you okay?

Chloe. There was no disguising Hunter’s rush of pleasure.

She had no doubt that he was there, so there was no point in pretending otherwise. The door didn’t lock and in a minute, she’d open it.

Hunter opened it instead. She had her hair in a ponytail and was dressed casually—jeans, a big sweater, and a wool coat—but her eyes were wide with concern. She was wearing her glasses, which made her look bookish. He was more glad to see her than he knew he should be. He should send her away, he reminded himself. He should protect her from him. She wanted more than he could ever give.

Hunter knew all of that, but those eyes. Against his better instincts, he invited her into the room. Chloe stepped past him and he took a breath of her scent, savoring it, before she realized what he was doing.

What if...?

“I went to the apartment and Yvonne told me they’d come home early,” she said. “Why didn’t you go to a hotel?”

“I tried. Everything is booked out tonight.”

“No room at the inn,” she said with a smile. “I think I remember that story.”

He gestured to the room and managed a smile himself. “Better than a manger.”

She nodded. “I guessed you might be here.”

It should have freaked him out that she’d anticipated him so well. He should have been sure that she’d just made a good guess because she was smart. But instead, he liked that she’d known what he would do.

It was like they were friends.

“I have a room for tonight at the Beekman but can’t check in until four,” he said.

“The Beekman? Pretty fancy.”

“I know, but it is Christmas. Clean sheets. Room service. I think I’m worth it.” He sensed that she was waiting for an invitation, but didn’t offer one. It was Christmas Day. She’d be busy with her family. He sat down again, his back to the wall, well aware that she was studying him. “There’s not much I can offer you, except the view.”

He thought she would leave then.

Chloe sat down beside him, close enough that they were just barely touching. He stayed put, but still didn’t look at her. A guy could lose himself in those eyes, forget everything he knew to be true, start something he couldn’t finish.

“Is your phone off?”

“Ran out of juice.” He made a gesture. “The plugs are all in the hall on this floor. I forgot about that.”

He felt her nod. “It would give you away.”

“Exactly.”

“You could have asked Cassie or Theo, you know. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you crashed here officially.”

Hunter winced. “But then I’d have to explain that I don’t actually have a place. There’d be tons of questions...”

“And people poking into your secrets.”

He looked up at that and was snared by her smile. “I don’t have secrets,” he protested, although he knew it wasn’t true.

She laughed. “You have more secrets than any three people I know.” To his relief and disappointment, she looked away, then pulled up her knees. She looped her arms around them and propped her chin on them. “Actually, I think you just have one great big secret.”

“Don’t pretend you’re going to fix me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said lightly.

Hunter didn’t know what to say to that, so he kept silent. He was watching how the light played in her ponytail, how it found reddish lights in the dark silky length. He wished she wore it loose more often. It made her look carefree and playful.

Actually, it was probably better that she usually kept it wound up. Less tempting.

She turned them, impaling him with a glance, catching him by surprise. He was caught, but couldn’t look away. “Are you okay?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” she said with a conviction that made his heart skip. “It does to me.”

His throat was tight, although that made no sense at all. “Why?”

Chloe smiled, her face lighting with surprise and pleasure. “Because I like you, Hunter Tate.” She shook her head a little, her hair