C9 The ONE

“Believe me, nothing about this has been romantic. If anything it’s killed every stereotype, every fantasy, and every romantic thought I’ve ever had.” I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. The caffeine from my half-spilled coffee was waning and jet lag was slowly conquering.

“Wake up.”

“No.”

“You snore.”

“Do not.” I opened one eye. “Girls don’t snore. They purr.”

He barked out a laugh, coughing as he tried to control himself.

Ignoring his reaction, I closed my one eye and settled farther in to the leather seat.

So much better than airplane seats.

“Believe me, you snore. At least you used to.”

I sighed heavily, hoping he’d sense my irritation. “That’s only because you drugged Roxi and I with half a bottle of Benadryl and took pictures of us, drooling and in our full head gear. You’re lucky we didn’t need to call poison control.”

“You were fine. It was the perfect idea though…” he recalled, his tone wistful.

“You’re evil.”

“I needed leverage!”

I snickered. “Yeah… yeah you did.”

“Bloody hell!”

“In our defense… we probably wouldn’t have told everyone about your… uh… experiment.”

“Liar. I heard your master plan. Roxi’s room wasn’t exactly sound proof.”

“How did we get on this subject?”

“You said you purr.”

“Ah. Yes. I do.”

He shook his head. “You snore. Like a drunken sailor. Of course, if you weren’t single you’d know that.”

His words hit a soft spot, but I’d be damned if I’d let it show. “I’m exactly how I want to be.”

He rolled his eyes. “Says the girl who had the perma-pregnant Barbie—”

“What is up with you and Roxi and Barbies?” I shouted.

“Easy, lass… Dinna get yerself in a lather,” his brogue was thick as he spoke quickly, his eyes wary as if I might suddenly attack.

“You kill the accent for me.”

“What’s that?”

“You kill it. The whole sexy Scottish Brogue thing…”

“I thought I spoke it quite well… being Scottish… and having a natural brogue and all.”

“Not what I meant. Just another stereotype killer. Gone! All my girlish fantasies are officially dead.” I threw my hands up and glared out the window.

“Uh, okay.” There was a long pause. “You know you’re just as daft as you always were.”

“You know you’re just as irritating as you always were.”

“Touché.”

We traveled the last few blocks in silence as he wound through tall stone buildings and very narrow streets. Pulling up in front of a newer building, he parked and got out.

A blue flag blew in the crisp spring wind with the name “Hotel Indigo.” I reached out and leaned against the door handle but Kirby pulled at the same time, causing me to throw my weight against nothing but air and I caught myself between his shoulder and the open door.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. Then I made the mistake of glancing up.

Shocked blue eyes met mine then softened. The color was the same as the Hawaiian ocean, and seemed almost as restless. But as soon as his expression softened, it closed off and he backed away, almost roughly setting me to rights.

“Ye never were graceful.” His gaze dipped to my lips, then he glanced away. “But dinna worry. The millionaire winna care,” he flirted, his gaze darting back to mine with a mischievous twinkle.

“Yay.” I did a small fist pump. ”Can’t wait.”

“Here’s your hotel. I’ll help you get to the front desk then the bell hop’ll get you settled.” His brogue lightened up slightly.

Why was I even paying attention?

“Thanks.”

He shut the car door behind me and pulled the suitcase with one hand, carrying my three-wheeled carry-on in his other through the large glass door.

Warm air rushed by me as classical music teased my ears. Large potted plants accented the very modern décor. I scanned the room for the front desk. Kirby was already there waiting, his expression one of impatience.

Just to piss him off, I took a very slow step. Then smiled. Then took another.

I heard a low growl and paused when he marched toward me. Without a word he slung me over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” I hissed, but before I could hit him with my purse, he put me down in front of the wide-eyed clerk.

“Checking in?” the lady asked, her amused expression darting between Kirby and myself.

“Yes,” we answered together.

“Name?”

“Meredith Blane.” I pulled out my company credit card, holding my breath till she accepted it with a smile.

“Ah, yes. I have you right here.” She typed a bit and started running key cards. “Newly Married?” she asked, her gaze smiling as she handed Kirby a card and then one to me.

“What?” I asked just as he started to laugh.

Her expression fell slightly.

“No.” I shook my head, turned to Kirby, then shook my head harder.

“Oh, I assumed—”

“She’s a little slow, so I try to help out a bit… bein’ the good Samaritan that I am.” He winked at her, and I swear I saw her sway a little.

I couldn’t blame her.

But I wasn’t mature enough to just stand by and watch either.

“His husband lets me use his brawn when I’m in town.” I patted his shoulder and collected my key card. “Room 403? Thank you!” I left my bags, signaling to an approaching bellhop as I made my way to the elevator.

“Merry!” Kirby’s angry voice called after me but I ducked around a corner, holding my breath as he passed.

“Damn female,” he growled. As soon as he was out of sight, I took a nearby staircase up a short flight then went down the hall. It was slightly odd, the floors weren’t actually floors like hotels back home, but little landings with several doors, then another short flight of stairs.

The only elevator I saw was in the main lobby.

As I took another flight of stairs, I slowly started to realize I was lost.

My gaze darted to the last flight of stairs I took, then to another one going up. According to the floor I was on, my room should be the next flight up, but the numbers weren’t in order. Room 404 was next to room 430. I was taking a chance, but it was lesser of the two evils, the first evil being Kirby downstairs, waiting to do… something.