She hurried her steps to catch up to him and found herself slipping her hand in his. Grayson’s warm palm closed around her fingers easily enough, although, a look of surprise took over his expression. Then a warm smile.
They were checking into a hotel together, might as well play the part of a couple.
Was she playing? Pretending?
She was falling for Grayson, wasn’t she? This had to be falling if her heart did small dances in her chest whenever she touched him. Or when he looked at her.
What was happening?
Good grief, was this...love?
“Can I help you?” The desk clerk looked up and Sabine watched the woman’s eyes flutter taking in all glorious six-foot-five of Grayson Hart, the sexiest man alive. Period. Full stop.
“Evenin’, ma’am,” Grayson greeted her with a hidden Texas drawl from his college days and handed over a glossy gold card. “I don’t have a reservation, but I was hoping you had a suite available for one night. I’m an owner of The Sterling in New York.” His voice got so deep, it settled into her chest and bounced around like a pinball. Lighting her up with every strike.
“Welcome to Dama Diablo, Mr. Hart.” The woman could barely speak.
Las Vegas had been a glitz-fest, but gamblers’ eyes stayed glued to their slot machines or table games, too preoccupied to notice a god from Olympus had graced them with their presence.
In the Lone Star State, Grayson Hart made an impact.
When the woman looked over at Sabine, her moment of truth fell upon her. Did she look like she belonged with Grayson? Or were they one of those uneven couples?
The desk clerk glanced at her and had no reaction which pleased Sabine. While finding that hard to believe, she enjoyed her victory moment.
“I have a two-bedroom suite just below our villas.” The clerk cinched her eyebrows together scanning her monitor. “I can move you to a villa tomorrow night if you decide to stay longer.”
“One night for now. And the suite is fine.” Grayson rested his arms on the counter, his hip tilted. His jeans held his ass so superbly. His casual dress shirt tucked in tight at the belt buckle, but loose in other places made him look sexier than a man had the right to be. For a guy who preferred to be naked all the time and rivaled Michelangelo’s David, he looked amazing in clothes, too.
“I will need a credit card for incidentals. More than likely, they’ll be comped too. But just in case,” she said with a smile.
Grayson pursed his lips and reached for his wallet. His face turned beefsteak tomato red, handing one of those canceled credit cards across the check-in desk. He took shaky breaths, bracing for the embarrassment of being told the card was no good.
He was no good.
Not happening.
“Honey, use my card,” Sabine said, reaching across the desk and snatching the bum card from the check-in clerk. “Ye can get the next one.” She dug through her purse and forked over her Visa.
“Sounds like you two are on a fun road trip,” the clerk said, taking the card.
“We are.” Sabine leaned into Grayson who wound his hand around her waist.
His lips landed on the side of her head. Holy hell, didn’t that feel nice?
“Thanks, mama,” he said and swept his mouth across hers.
“My pleasure,” she replied, and with a driving urge she couldn’t control, she kissed his lips.
Her fist tightened around his shirt and she drew him in for a deeper, wetter kiss. Grayson groaned against her lips, and she pressed into him, feeling the firmness in his jeans growing. She was in danger of forgetting this was a game.
They felt like a couple.
Nothing felt like pretend anymore. But it did feel temporary. And she was okay with that. If she didn’t get her full fee from Luke, she couldn’t bring her business to the next level. That meant hard choices. Decisions that might involve her brothers.
A truce, a compromise.
“You guys wouldn’t be on your honeymoon by any chance?” The desk clerk handed over the key cards. “I can send a basket up to your suite. Champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, salted caramels, sugar pecans, candles, bath salts.”
Grayson wasn’t drinking and Sabine didn’t know if the bubbly would be a temptation he didn’t need. Although, she could distract him by eating the strawberries with a seductive mouth. In a bubble bath.
“We’re not on our honeymoon,” Grayson finally admitted, deflating her.
Understandably, that’s all they needed, to wake up with a trending headline: