C H A P T E R F O U R
JACK’S HOTEL WAS MERE STEPS FROM THE PUB, YET AS SHE REACHED
for the massive brass handle, she wasn’t sure which felt more frozen, the hand with bare skin on metal or the one gripping the precious bottle of Dingle gin. She braced herself against the cold as she held the door open. “After you, love.”
“You figure if you call me love instead of Blair, I’ll stop calling you Dingle?”
“Nah, it’s one of many Irish-isms I got from my mom.
Besides, the name Dingle’s growing on me.” Jack inhaled a deep breath as the woman walked by, savoring her musky aroma. Perfume? Her natural scent? An intoxicating blend of both? “Let’s get you all checked in, Blair.”
As soon as they stepped into the hotel lobby, Jack came to an abrupt halt, her cocky fix-it attitude melting away faster than the ice that was already dripping from her clothing to form a puddle at her feet. The space that greeted her bore little resemblance to the elegant establishment she was familiar with from previous visits.
A mass of huddled humanity had invaded, an army of coat-clad people occupying every chair in the place and spilling over onto the floor. Snow-spattered men in suits harangued an exhausted-looking bellhop, though Jack couldn’t tell if they were demanding to have luggage brought
up or down, or maybe were yelling at the poor guy as if he had personal control over the weather and could fix it on a whim.
As they eased into a line that stretched five or six people deep, Jack’s grip on the neck of the gin bottle tightened like a vice as snippets of a phone conversation from the woman standing behind the desk reached her ear.
“I’m terribly sorry, but we’re booked… No, I don’t know if any of the hotels nearby have a room… Uh, no… Have you looked outside? I recommend trying Rhode Island.” This was met with a screech that came loud and clear through the receiver, after which the front desk clerk said, “Thanks so much for calling,” before replacing the phone on its cradle and calling out, “Next!”
Beside her, Blair was once more clutching her nonexistent pearls. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get a room after all.”
“Never fear.” Jack flashed a confident, I got this handled smile. “You can always spend the night with me.”
“Spend the night with you? We’ve discussed this before.”
The woman gave her a look down the bridge of her nose that she’d probably spent years perfecting, the kind of look that was designed to tell underlings exactly how far beneath her they were without expending any unnecessary energy on words. All it did was egg on Jack, making her more determined to tease, and maybe win the woman over in the process. Stranger things had happened.
“You know you’re tempted.”
“A snowball has a better chance in hell than you do of getting me to come to your room with you.” Despite her protestations, Blair blushed.
Jack snickered.
In front of them in line was a man wearing gym attire.
Though she didn’t know him, Jack couldn’t help but think how he could’ve been a carbon copy of any one of the guys in
her department. The man stepped forward with all the confidence of someone who was sure he would get his way with a little charm and a high-limit corporate credit card, but within seconds, he was frothing at the mouth at whatever news the employee had delivered.
“That’s bullshit! I didn’t check out of the room.”
Though not exactly yelling, the hotel clerk raised her voice enough for Jack to hear. “But you were supposed to. At noon. Housekeeping gathered up your belongings and put them in a storage closet. I can give you the claim number.”
“I don’t want a claim number. I want a room. I called earlier today to extend my reservation, and you, or someone like you…”
“Someone like me?” responded the clerk, who, it only now dawned on Jack, was an African American woman very much not pleased by the way the man’s words and tone had implied every one of her race was alike. It would’ve been a lie if Jack had said she wasn’t enjoying seeing the arrogant man shrink a few inches in stature as he realized what he had said.
“No, that’s not what I… I meant that I spoke with a clerk and was told it would be okay for me to extend my stay another night.” He tugged at the neck of his T-shirt, and Jack was fairly sure he was sweating.
“I’m terribly sorry, but—”
“I have a confirmation number.” He held out a card as if it were a holy relic. The clerk took it but set it aside without a second glance. “All I’m saying is this was a mistake on your part—not you, you. I meant the hotel. The hotel made a mistake, not me. As soon as my evening flight was cancelled at ten this morning, I rang the operator and made arrangements to stay.”
“It’s not in our system.”
“Screw your system.” It was at that moment the man snapped again, his anger getting the better of any fears he may have had about being labeled prejudiced. He pressed a finger onto the counter, causing the tip to whiten. “We had a verbal agreement! I have squatter’s rights! I could go live on social media right now and report how this hotel is evicting me so they can fleece one of these poor schmucks for three times the going rate.”
As he pulled out his iPhone to make good on the threat, the woman put her hands on her hips. “Sir, that’s not how the situation is playing out. Do I need to call the police?”
Immediately, he backed down. Though the man remained at the counter, all the fight seemed to have drained out of him. Jack felt a twinge of disappointment. As far as she was concerned, the only thing needed to make this show complete was a bucket of popcorn. What a shame it was over so soon.
“Next!”
Jack strode confidently toward the desk. She shot the gym rat a smug smile before addressing the clerk. “I’d like to check in, please.”
“You can check in online. Didn’t you receive a text?”
“Yes, but, you see, I was also hoping to get a second room for my friend, so—”
“If you have an existing reservation, I can check you in,”
the clerk said in a robotic tone, “but otherwise we’re totally booked.”
“I understand, and I do have a reservation.” Jack glanced back toward the line, taking in Blair’s resigned expression.
She lifted her eyebrows questioningly, and the woman gave a slight shrug in response. “Perhaps I could get a room with two beds?”
“I’ll see what’s left. Confirmation number?”
“Yes, right here.” Jack pulled up the information on her phone and showed it to the clerk. After a series of taps on the keyboard, the clerk sighed heavily.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that reservation has expired.”
Jack’s pulse raced. Surely, she couldn’t have heard that right. Beside her, the gym rat let out a loud gu aw, clearly getting as much amusement out of her predicament as she had out of his. “That’s impossible. I got a text a few hours ago.”
“And did you reply to it?” The clerk’s tone was calm, bored even, but inside, Jack felt panic rising.
“No, I… I didn’t realize I had to.”
“It’s a snow emergency.” The clerk shut her eyes, as if already weary from having to explain. “You needed to confirm within an hour of receiving the text to avoid losing the room. Company policy.”
“That’s bullshit!” Jack spat but cringed as she realized she sounded as pathetic as the poor gym rat beside her.
Suddenly, Jack regretted how amused she’d been by his situation. It was much less funny when the shoe was on her foot. Jack was so caught up in her own panic that it took her a moment to realize her companion had stepped out of line and taken a spot at the counter between her and the man.
“Pardon me.”
At the sound of the blonde woman’s voice, the hotel clerk inhaled deeply as if one second away from cracking after dealing with a hotel brimming with entitled corporate types, but she managed to mutter a cautious, “Yes?”
“
I couldn’t help but notice you seem to have a reservation conundrum, and I’d like to o er a solution.”
“The solution is, she needs to give me back my room.” A stream of spittle came flying out of the gym rat’s mouth.
“That room’s already been given to another guest, and I have no more rooms available,” the clerk explained through
gritted teeth.
The man grabbed up the card he’d shown the clerk earlier and shoved it toward Jack’s friend. “I have a confirmation number. See.”
Jack watched as Blair took the card in her hands, gave it a thorough examination, and looked to the clerk. “When you say you don’t have any more rooms, what do you mean, exactly?”
At first, Jack had been awed by the way her companion had taken control. Forceful. Powerful. Really sexy. But as the clerk’s face morphed from mild annoyance to major irritation, Jack worried that three pints of Guinness had numbed the woman’s ability to read the situation.
“I mean exactly that.” The clerk said the words loudly and firmly, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “We’re booked solid. Every room is occupied, and I have fifty people camped out in the lobby hoping for a cancellation.”
“Every room, including the President’s suite on the eighteenth floor?” Blair pressed.
The hotel clerk gave a furtive glance to her computer monitor and then behind her, as if searching for an invisible spy. Lowering her voice, she replied, “That room’s not o cially in the system. It’s been leased to a high-profile tenant.”
Jack’s companion remained calm—stoic, even—in the face of this new hurdle. “Yes, I’m acquainted with Mr.
Ahmed. Last I heard, he was spending the winter months in New Zealand.”
“He’s not in residence at the moment,” the clerk confirmed, “but we’ve been instructed not to release the room in case he makes a last-minute trip.”
“Have you looked outside? I’m guessing no one will be flying into Logan during this blizzard since I’ve been informed no planes are coming or going. Even if he
happened to have landed right before the storm, getting here by car would be treacherous and ill-advised. Only an idiot would try it. So is the room available, or do you think Mr.
Ahmed is an idiot?”
“I guess the room’s technically available.”
Jack stifled a laugh as the clerk squirmed, admiring how successfully the question’s phrasing had painted her into a corner.
“Awesome.” The gym rat pumped his fist in the air.
“Thanks, lady. I’ll take that room, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m guessing you don’t think I should give the room to this guy.” The clerk jerked her head in the gym rat’s direction.
The majestic blonde glanced in his direction with an expression that might normally be used when getting a sudden whi of an overripe trash barrel.
“I have a confirmation number.” The gym rat pounded his fist on the counter.
This time, Jack’s companion didn’t bother to look his way but simply held up the card he’d given her and tore it methodically into shreds. The guy’s eyes bulged as the pieces rained down on the countertop like bits of confetti.
“I was here first,” he whimpered. Opening his wallet, he plucked out a credit card and waved it at the clerk. “I’ll pay a thousand bucks for that room.”
“He was ahead of your friend in line,” the clerk pointed out. “Out of the two of them, it should probably go to him.”
“Neither one of them is getting that room.” The blonde goddess closed her eyes, opening them ever so slowly.
“You’re going to give it to me.”
Jack wasn’t sure who was more surprised by this turn of events, the clerk or Jack herself. She looked to her new friend, waiting breathlessly for the explanation. Up until that moment, Jack had been certain her new friend was on her
side, fighting on her behalf. Apparently, it had become every woman for herself.
“Why you?” demanded the wide-eyed clerk. “As I’ve said, there are at least fifty people waiting for a room.”
“Because I doubt anyone else has this.” The woman rifled through her pocket, pulling out something that appeared to be a credit card, but judging by the look on the clerk’s face, it had to be more impressive than a platinum card by a factor of about a million. On closer inspection, Jack saw that it was a wallet-sized photograph of her blonde companion standing beside a man with a dark complexion who was wearing a black turban. She tapped her fingernail on the man’s face. “I’m sure he would take it as a personal favor if you made sure I had accommodations in this terrible storm.”
“Well, you’ll still have to pay, and I don’t even know what to charge,” the clerk said, but it was clear from her tone that she was on the verge of giving in.
“This guy o ered a thousand, so why don’t you double that and call it done?” Blair slapped a credit card on the counter and nudged it toward the clerk, whose hand hovered above it for a moment before snatching it from the counter and running it through the card reader.
Jack nearly swooned. She couldn’t recall ever seeing a woman so completely cool and in control of a situation. Talk about power being an aphrodisiac. Sure, if she looked at the situation a certain way, Blair had technically stolen the hotel’s last room right out from under her. But, no. Who was she kidding? Never in a million years would she have had the quick thinking, let alone the nerve, to have manipulated the situation to her advantage the way Blair had. She’d won the prize fair and square.
A moment later, the clerk handed over a key card and looked pointedly from Jack to the blonde. “Will you be needing a second key?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Wait, what?” The start of a triumphant grin froze on Jack’s face at the woman’s response. Winning the room was one thing, but not being willing to share when Jack had been ready to do so when they’d believed the shoe to be on the other foot? The woman couldn’t be so coldhearted that she would leave Jack to fend for herself, could she? Without answering, the woman put the lone key in her pocket and headed toward the elevator. Jack trotted after her. “Hold on, there, Blair.”
Only after pressing the elevator call button did the woman seem to pay her any notice. Her face lit up as she reached out, and for a moment, Jack was relieved she’d misread the situation. Then she felt the bottle of gin she’d nearly forgotten she was holding slide through her fingers. “Oh, thank you. I almost forgot about this.”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? You’re stealing my gin and leaving me to freeze.”
The woman gave her a bemused look. “I paid for both, as I recall, which makes them both mine, pure and simple. But I’m feeling charitable, so please, explain to me why I should share either one with you.”
“Well, uh…” Jack’s brain kicked into high gear, searching for anything that might convince the woman not to toss her out into the elements. “I won’t appeal to your sense of fairness, because as you said, even though I recommended the gin and told you about the hotel, you did pay for both, so I get the sense you consider that perfectly legit.”
“Perceptive of you.”
The stalling tactic had bought Jack enough time for the real answer to click. Her lips curved slyly. “If you invite me up, I won’t have to go back to the front desk and tell the clerk that you’ve never met Mr. Ahmed in your life.”
“What makes you think that?” The woman’s tone bordered on bored, but Jack could tell from the flash of fire in her eyes that her guess was right.
“Ahmed is an Arabic name. The man in that photo was wearing a Sikh’s turban. Most Sikhs are from India, not the Middle East.”
“Indeed. Most people don’t know that,” the woman commented. “Are you this clever about everything?”
“You should invite me up for a drink and find out.”
The woman’s lips twitched, but she kept her amusement in check. “There’s only one problem.”
“You don’t like being blackmailed?” Jack guessed.
“Oh, no. I’ll give you that one fair and square. The trouble is, I already told you I wouldn’t spend the night with you, and I never go back on my word.” The elevator dinged, and as the doors opened, the woman stepped inside.
“Hold on, there.” Jack gave into a sly grin as she held her arm out to stop the doors from closing. “That’s not what you said. You said a snowball had a better chance in hell than I did of getting you to come to my room with me.”
“And?” The woman inspected her fingernails, not bothering to look at Jack.
“It isn’t my room. You’ve made that point very clear. It’s your room. Bought and paid for. You never said anything about not inviting me up to your room.” Jack held her breath as she awaited the woman’s response. If this didn’t work, Jack had no idea what she was going to do. Even sleeping at her desk was out of the question, as she doubted it was safe enough to walk in the terrible storm. “So, how ’bout it?”
There was a glint of humor in the woman’s eyes as she leaned against the elevator’s rear wall. “Get in.”
C H A P T E R F I V E
THE RIDE TO THE EIGHTEENTH FLOOR DRAGGED ON, WHICH WAS
surprising given they didn’t stop at any other floors. Perhaps it seemed so slow because Laurie remained silent for the duration, sneaking glances at her companion, whose face lacked a single line and whose body bore not even a hint of sagging. God, the girl was young. Plucky, though—the kind of risk-taker that reminded Laurie of herself at that age.
Hadn’t she behaved with similar boldness when she and Bonnie had first met? It was half the reason they’d ended up dating.
Not that she had any intention of dating this little pixie.
Nor doing anything else with her, Laurie reminded herself preemptively, much to her body’s disappointment.
Finally, the elevator hitched to a stop, and the doors opened. The young woman stood to the side, making a chivalrous gesture with one arm as she allowed Laurie to take the lead . Was she always so submissive? Laurie doubted it . She struck her as the type of woman who could give as good as she got. Did that include in the bedroom?
Heart of Ice Page 5
