Claire snorted. “As if.” Then she switched to speculative. “Think about how your date will feel if you show up looking like a million bucks. When was the last time you got some action, Derek?”
A couple of hours ago. “Claire,” he said in warning.
“What? You show up looking suave and sophisticated, she’ll be all over you like super glue. A woman likes a man who can dress for the occasion.”
Derek rubbed his temples and considered it. Claire could be right. After all, Reese had made a point of questioning whether he owned a suit or not. While she might not ditch him at the door if he wore a cheap suit, she wouldn’t exactly be bowled over, either.
He wanted her wowed. He wanted her soft and compliant and whispering brassy sexual overtures in his ear, making him sweat with need. After that wedding was over, he wanted to take her home and strip her, one piece of clothing at a time, taking it slow so he could touch and explore every little inch of her along the way.
Except Claire was going to be in his apartment as his new roomie. So they’d go to Reese’s hotel room. Maybe he could pick up some wine and she’d drop her dress, nothing on but earrings, high heels, and a smile.
“You’re getting a weird look on your face. Are you thinking or falling asleep?”
“Fine. We’ll go shopping in the morning.” He fell back into the chair and braced himself for the horror of trying on clothes and having little men with tape measures wrapping their arms around his chest.
Claire dropped her arms. “Dang. I can’t believe you agreed that easily. She must be some woman.”
That she was. He didn’t entirely understand her and he didn’t always agree with her. But she was smart, independent, and direct, and she tied his gut up in knots of sexual longing.
Reese Hampton was a woman worthy of a new suit.
SIXTEEN
Reese pacedthe lobby of the Crowne Plaza, glancing at her platinum watch for the twelfth time as she noted that Knight was now eight and a half minutes late. If he stood her up she’d track him down and force-feed him chicken wings until he was in ulcer agony.
If he ditched her and went to the wedding alone to bust Chatterton, leaving her wearing a hole in the aqua hotel carpet, she would likely kill him.
To think she’d run out this morning and bought an ivory thong and matching push-up bra. What a waste of good lace and eighty bucks. Eighty bucks. What the hell had she been thinking?
That Knight would drool when she took her dress off.
Reese muttered under her breath, “Fat chance.”
A guy in his early twenties sitting in one of the lobby easy chairs looked over at her, wary.
“What?” she snarled at him.
He shook his head and stuck his headphones back into his ears, and pressed play on his phone before studiously looking out the front window.
Annoyed at herself for getting worked up over a man she didn’t even really know, Reese crossed her arms over her dress and stared at the front door, willing Knight to walk through it.
But first, check out the hunk strolling through the doors. Reese fanned herself a little. Whew. Hot stuff coming through in a black suit, looking like he owned the hotel.
Only he had a slight stiffness to his left leg, and shoulders that were familiar, and why did that hair seem like an exact shade of caramel she’d seen before?
Knight turned and met her gaze, his lip curling up in the corner.
Reese grabbed the back of the nearest easy chair and whispered, “Honey, baby, come to mama.”
And she had been worried that he didn’t own a suit.
Not only did he own one, he filled every inch of the high-quality suit to perfection, broad shoulders straight and rock solid chest covered with a rich burgundy shirt, no tie. It was a risky move, not wearing a tie, the shirt’s top button undone, but he looked at ease doing it, as if he were used to trendsetting. His belt was shiny black leather, the silver buckle taunting her, making her itch to undo it and move her hands into his pants.
Her cheeks flamed, her thighs twitched, her nipples shot forward in greeting.
And she hadn’t even seen his butt yet.
Knight sauntered up to her. “Catching flies, Reese?”