Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Josephine shut off the nozzle with a frown, her head turning toward the bathroom entrance. Surely, that had come from next door.
Those footsteps, too. They were coming from the hallway, right?
All six feet two inches of Wells appeared in the bathroom entrance.
Josephine screamed, the piercing wail echoing off numerous marble surfaces.
“Jesus Christ!” Wells boomed, turning around quickly to give her his broad back.
But not before he saw her naked breasts. Looked right at them. Oh God. Oh God!
She lunged over the side of the tub for a towel and stood, wrapping it around herself. “What are you doing in here?”
“Funny,” he said evenly, despite the muscular tension in his shoulders. “I was just about to ask you the same question.”
“This is the room they gave me at check-in.” Finished securing the white, luxurious terry cloth about her body, Josephine smacked her forehead. “Once I saw the room, I should have known it was yours. I’m . . . this . . . ughhhh.”
Still facing away, Wells crossed his arms. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I mean, obviously this room is yours. The bathtub bamboozled me. Drew me in like a gator to a roasted ham or I would have pieced it together—”
“Can I turn around yet?”
“If you don’t mind that I’m in a towel?”
Briefly, he tipped his head back. “I think I can suffer through it, belle.”
“Then . . .” She glanced at her reflection over the bathroom sink and winced at the black half-circles of mascara beneath her eyes, the wet hair dripping onto her shoulders. “I guess so.”
A beat passed before he turned around again, focusing on a spot over her shoulder before finally making eye contact. Were his pupils bigger than before or was the steam distorting her vision? Because she could almost feel her own dilating to the size of salad plates over being in close proximity to this tall, sinewy athlete in the intimate setting of a bathroom. Wearing no clothing while he was fully dressed. Something about that contrast was sending an unwanted ripple of goose bumps down her spine, as was the fact that he looked a lot healthier than the last time she’d seen him. The cords of his colorfully inked forearms stood out like he’d gotten back into lifting weights, a very distracting biceps vein disappearing up the sleeve of his shirt.
Stop looking.
“I booked us the same kind of room. Yours should look exactly like this.” Did his attention drop to the knotted towel between her breasts, pricking every inch of skin below her neck? Or were her nipples puckering from the air-conditioning? “My name was on both reservations, so they must have given you my key by mistake.”
“Oh.” So . . . he had booked her this extravagant suite? Why? “I would have been happy with a normal room.”
“All that moaning you were doing in the bathtub suggests otherwise.”
Indignation snapped in her throat. “If you heard me moaning, why did you walk in here?”
“Did you hear yourself? You sounded like an injured animal. I thought someone was on the verge of death.” His gaze ticked to the tub, back to her. “Is this your first bath?”
“Says the man who almost needed a chainsaw to cut his hair last week.” They smirked at each other. “Women don’t just miraculously appear in your room.”
He propped a forearm on the doorjamb and raised a single eyebrow at her.
“Oh, I see. They do.”
Something about the realization made her skin shrink. But it wasn’t jealousy. No way. Sure, she couldn’t help but have a healthy appreciation for an attractive athlete with a prolific posterior, but that wasn’t why she’d supported him all those years. She’d been his number one fan because, at the height of his success, there was no one more exciting than him on the course. No one more daring and irreverent. He’d never been in it for the accolades—she’d witnessed love for the game in his every move and it had drawn her in.
Women could come stocked in his mini fridge for all she cared.
That spike lodged in her neck was simply a product of having her bath cut short.
“For some absurd reason . . .” Wells pushed off the door frame, running a hand down the back of his neck. “I feel the need to clarify. Women have appeared in my room twice—and both times, I called security. It wasn’t a welcome surprise, unlike a moaning redhead in my tub—”
“What are we going to do about the mix-up?” she interrupted, alarmingly relieved while still being distinctly embarrassed. “Should I call the front desk?”
Wells regarded her levelly for several moments. “No. You stay here. I’ll go down and get a key to the other room.”
Josephine pondered that. “But if the other room was meant for me, there could be a man waiting in my bathtub.” Batting her eyelashes, she slipped between Wells and the door frame, staunchly ignoring the butterflies that scattered in her stomach when he gave her mouth a prolonged look. “I should probably take it.”