SuiteTemptations

by AlexandraOHurley; CatKelly

  The waiter opened the bottle and poured some into a glass while Henry closed the drapes, taking one last look out on the darkened park below. There were fewer people now and the wind had picked up, blowing dry leaves and litter from the park across the road. Wait a minute - was it snowing? A blob of white had floated down through his line of vision. He thought it was outside, a snowflake, but no other followed. Had it been a reflection in the window? Of what? Cobwebs? In a hotel like this one?

  He glanced over his shoulder at the waiter. "Did you just sneeze?"

  "No, sir."

  "I heard someone sneeze."

  "Not me, sir." The waiter smiled. "If that will be all, sir..."

  "I'd like to lodge a complaint about the guests across the hall," he muttered, turning back to the drapes, jerking them shut angrily. "For the past hour and twenty minutes there's been nothing but singing and shouting, as well as what sounds like glass smashing. I sincerely hope something will be done about it so that other guests here can enjoy a peaceful night's sleep."

  "Sorry, sir." The waiter looked genuinely apologetic. "They were supposed to be in the penthouse suite but we had to move them down here temporarily. Some problem with the fireplace."

  "Oh?"

  "They tried to put it out with brandy last night sir and might have burned down the hotel."

  Henry pursed his lips. So now these cretins were on his floor. He wasn't likely to get much sleep was he?

  "And I understand there were some curious stains on the rugs that housekeeping needed to get at right away, sir, with heavy-duty cleaning products."

  "Wonderful."

  "It is only temporary, sir. They'll be back in the penthouse suite tomorrow."

  "And I'll be checking out," he snapped.

  "Sorry, sir. I will report the noise, sir."

  "Swell." Henry handed him a tip and sat to enjoy his meal. Only then did he notice the large slice of chocolate cake. "I did not order this." He pointed with his knife at the offending dessert.

  "The Death by Chocolate is complimentary, sir. For the delay in getting your dinner up here."

  He hadn't noted any delay. Usually delays were one of his greatest irritations. Mind must be on other things tonight. "Fine."

  On his way out the waiter stopped, bent and picked up an object he'd found on the floor. "Oops. Almost stepped on this, sir." It was the Nook the young porter had brought to his room earlier. The last Henry saw of that thing it was on the sofa. Now it was on the carpet.

  "That's not mi—"

  The waiter set it inside his opened briefcase on the coffee table and then hurried out, muttering about a busy night.

  * * * *

  The noise across the hall continued throughout the evening, coming and going in waves with the occasional loud bang, as if some item of heavy furniture had just been thrown at the wall. Henry made two calls to the front desk and then gave up on sleep. He sat up in bed and ran over preparations for tomorrow's interview on his laptop. He opened his briefcase on the bed beside him, reaching for papers, and found instead that damned Nook.

  Somehow he'd switched it on and conjured a list of book titles that were loaded on the device. Annoyed, he glared at the screen as a book cover flashed into view. An angel, her hands demurely clasped in prayer, looked out at him with startling blue eyes. So startling that he stared back for several seconds before tossing the Nook onto the bed and reaching again for the papers he needed.

  No time to get side-tracked by a pretty face on the cover of some trashy romance.

  On the other hand—he should really be asleep, not working this late. He needed to be alert and refreshed by morning. Henry stilled, listening. The party across the hall was going through one of its quieter periods. Perhaps they'd fall asleep soon and providing they hadn't lit any fires or performed any human sacrifices, it might be safe to let himself drift off. Perhaps a little light reading would help put him out.

  His fingers reached across the bedcover and found the Nook again.

  Angel Face was still there. It was almost as if she moved, her hair drifting around her face. One curly lock blew across her lips. He blinked a few times. Perhaps his eyes were tired, but it really seemed as if she beckoned him closer.

  Now, how did one work these things? He studied the Nook warily. No doubt a five year old brat would work it out instantly. It took him, a thirty-nine year old heart surgeon, a little longer.

  Wait. Did he just hear a sneeze again? It was loud enough to have come from somewhere in his own suite.

  His blood was pumping too fast suddenly. He sat up further. Someone was in his room; he felt the presence of breath. Of other life. Tiny hairs pricked on the back of his neck.

  A white feather drifted down through the air, right by the tip of his nose.

  Henry slowly turned his eyes upward to see where it came from. And there she was. The angel from the Nook.

  On the ceiling, staring down at him.

  She sneezed, apologized, cursed—not necessarily in that order—and then she fell, as if whatever had been holding her up there suddenly gave way. The creature followed the same route as her drifting feathers, but at a much faster, more direct and far less elegant rate.

  * * * *

  Tabitha wasn't sure who started screaming first. The shock of losing flight caused her to squawk in a very un-angelic manner, but the man in the bed protested just as violently as she hurtled downward like the proverbial lead balloon and landed on him. They were surrounded by feathers, a mass of flapping limbs and pained cries. Then he wriggled out from under her and scrambled from the bed, spitting out fluffy white angel down and a considerable number of unsavory complaints to which she should probably close her ears, if she was going to take him up to heaven.

  She struggled onto her knees in the middle of the warm bed, where his body had rested only a few seconds earlier, and attempted to console the man. "Do not fear, poor soul. I am here to help you. All your troubles are over now."

  He grabbed a magazine from the bedside table and rolled it up in his hand.

  She wondered if he meant to swat her with it, like a fly. Tabitha giggled. Couldn't help it. Then she sneezed again. Couldn't help that either. Definitely coming down with a cold. Her skin felt clammy, her throat hurt and she was a little dizzy. But she had a job to do.

  Holding out her arms, she said softly, "Do not be alarmed."

  The man clambered to his feet, still flourishing the rolled up magazine, his eyes widened. "Who the Devil are you? Where did you come from? How long were you...up there?" He approached the bed cautiously. "And how did you get into my room?"

  She smiled. "I am Tabitha. Pleased to meet you." And she shook out her wings. Ouch. That pinched. Must have sprained something in the fall. "Can you not see what I am?"

  He stared, his eyes never leaving her while he walked around the bed. "You came from the party across the hall I suppose. Nice costume." His gaze wandered downward and she felt her nipples pricking through her gown in response to his searching perusal. His lips parted slightly. There was a barely perceptible lift of his eyebrows and an intake of breath that no one other than an angel attuned to such things would have heard. Tabitha's heart skipped a beat. It was two hundred years since a man looked at her like that. "Well, you can just go back there," he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. "Get out of my room before I call the—"

  "But I can't go back without you."

  He prodded at her with the magazine. "Go on. Off with you. Back to your lunatic friends. No doubt you're drunk, or high or something."

  Evidently this one wasn't going to make it easy for her. He was handsome—in a starchy, tightly-bound way. Reminded her a little of the village physician back home, when she was alive and kicking. He was always a stern fellow, didn't have much time for her mischief, which is why she'd teased him as often as she could. Even had a little naughty pang for him. Yes, this man was very similar in looks. Alas, she wasn't there to admire his rich dark hair with the peppering of grey at the temples, or
his deeply searching eyes, his strong hands, or wide shoulders. No, indeed, she was there to work.

  Tabitha licked her lips and assumed her most business-like expression. "I'm afraid you do not understand why I'm here. But you will." Slowly she climbed off the bed and stepped toward him, arms outstretched again. "Let me kiss you and all your sadness will be gone."

  "Kiss me?" He stepped back, almost tripping over his own feet. "No. Thank you. Keep back."

  "It will all be over with before you know it."

  "I'm sure." He pointed with his magazine weapon at the door. "That's the way out. Go."

  Her wings were definitely sore and aching now. She thought it was just part of her cold, working its way through her bones, making her weak, her head fuzzy. "Please. You don't understand why I'm here." She walked forward again.

  The man threw his magazine down, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

  "Stop," she cried, pushing on his shoulders. "You must kiss me or I can't take you up." She strained for his lips, but he kept lifting her back again and in her current state Tabitha didn't have the strength to fight very hard. She felt limp and his hands were very firm, very controlling. Warm. He smelled wonderful, like expensive spices from the ancient markets of what they once called the Orient. And beneath that, just the scent of humanity. Real, live man—not angel, or god, or spirit. The scent of blood and perspiration and hot skin. A shiver of desire rippled through her. It began where his fingertips pressed into her and it radiated upward. And downward. Oh dear, she wasn't supposed to have sensations like this. It was a strict rule. No rumpy pumpy with the humans they collected. Even the kiss she would use to capture him was supposed to be innocent, just another day at work.

  Something told Tabitha that this was anything but that. The wonderful, masterful hands he put on her had completely drained her of all angelic thoughts and intentions, distracted her from the mission. Left her breathless, mindless.

  He carried her to the door, set her down, opened it and pushed her out into the hall. "Goodbye. Have a pleasant evening." About to close the door on her, he suddenly paused, looking down. Surprise softened his expression for a split second. "Haven't you any shoes? It's not a good idea to walk around a hotel bare foot."

  She was amused that he expressed concern about her feet at such a moment. "I don't need shoes. I have wings." Tabitha tried to move the objects in question and felt a sharper pain rip through both sides and under her shoulder blades. It was so intense that it made her stumble into the wall and catch her breath.

  "Yes. Quite," the man muttered wryly. "Try to sober up before you get yourself in trouble." With that he closed his door and left her standing in the hall.

  * * * *

  His hands still trembled with shock, but it wasn't every day a very lovely, practically naked young woman fell on ones head, so Henry allowed himself to be slightly discombobulated by the event. Perhaps a brisk splash of cool water would be an acceptable measure. Not too dramatic. Then another call to the front desk regarding his partying neighbors. He seriously considered actually moving to another hotel, but that thought passed. Too much inconvenience to himself and his nerves this late at night.

  In the bright, clear bathroom light, he paused a moment, waiting for his heartbeat to settle. Perhaps an aspirin might be wise. He did have a headache from listening to all the noise across the hall.

  He turned on the faucet.

  If that young woman knew what was good for her, she'd go home and stop cavorting about—nearly naked— in hotel rooms. However, in Henry's experience women seldom knew what was best for them, nor did they like to listen to advice. And that included his own cantankerous mother who refused to give up gin and cigarettes, despite his repeated warnings.

  Bent over the sink, he cupped cool water in both hands and splashed his face.

  He waited for his head to clear, knots of confusion trying to unravel. But Henry's usually dependable reasoning could not straighten itself out into the usual orderly lines. There were too many questions.

  How on earth did that woman get into his room and suspend herself from the ceiling? Was she an acrobat of some sort? An escaped artiste from Cirque de Soleil?

  Anyone hearing this story might think he was the one taking hallucinogens, when it was clearly the girl in the angel costume who was amped up on something. A strange energy came off her like the low buzz from a dimmed light-bulb.

  She was small, but well-rounded. That flimsy bit of dress she wore was made of gossamer-light gauze. Through the material he could feel the warmth of her soft, silky skin and it made him calmer for some reason, loosened the tension.

  Why break into his room? Had she tried to steal anything? Only a kiss.

  Wacko.

  Who would want to steal a kiss from him? A woman like that was the uninhibited sort. They were not the type that usually went for him. If there was a type. Perhaps it was a dare—a party game of some sort. Wouldn't put it past the untended zoo animals across the hall to send her in on a mission, because he'd complained about the noise. They were probably having a good laugh at his expense.

  Eyes still closed he reached up to the mirrored cabinet above his head and opened it to find the little bottle of aspirin he'd placed there earlier, along with his razor, shaving cream, toothbrush and toothpaste. All in a neat line. His fingers found the pill bottle, knowing exactly where he'd placed it. With his free hand he grabbed a disposable paper cup and filled it with water. He straightened up, took a swig and knocked back an aspirin. Finally he opened his eyes, just as he closed the cabinet.

  There she was again, standing behind him, reflected in the mirror.

  He spat out the aspirin and it spiraled down the sink. "What the fuck...?"

  "Now, now. Don't panic. You see, I'm an angel. Locked doors don't keep me out. I would have explained but you didn't give me the chance." And she smiled again in that wide, artless way.

  "Explained what?"

  "That I came to take you up to heaven with me."

  His stomach did a sideways waltz step. Water dripped from his face onto the collar of his bathrobe. "Young woman, clearly you need help." It was the only thing he could think of to say.

  She came into the bathroom and slid her arms over his shoulders. "Kiss me."

  "Certainly not."

  But he was suddenly powerless to resist. Either she was standing on his feet for a little boost, or those wings really were capable of flight. Her lips were incredibly soft, sweet and hot. They pressed to his startled mouth before he could make any further protest and he soon forgot that he should. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck, under the collar of his bathrobe and her curves fit against him as if they were made for that purpose. He'd raised his hands to stop her, but when they settled around her waist they were too comfortable to do anything but stay there and hold her tight.

  Finally her lips slipped away, her lashes fanned upward and he was caught again in the rays of supernatural blue. It reminded him of idle, cloudless summer days when he was a boy, staying in the country with grandparents, enjoying the days before he had to go back to school. Precious days, carefree and long gone.

  "Oh," she said. "Nothing happened."

  He frowned down at her. Nothing happened? Well, that was not entirely true. At least not from his point of view. His cock had thickened, grown another inch taller. Since it was thrusting at the front of his bathrobe he was surprised she hadn't felt it.

  Yet she seemed disappointed. So did she expect the earth to move after one kiss?

  "Let me try again," she muttered, her gaze on his lips.

  Henry knew he should have pushed her back, resisted, thrown her out of his room a second time. He did none of that. Perhaps he wanted her not to be disappointed after all. Pride was a terrible thing.

  This kiss lingered. Her tongue found his, teased it almost shyly. Her full breasts were pressed to his chest, her body stretched against him and he actually felt her heart beat quicken—even through his towelin
g robe— until it could have outpaced the wings of a humming bird. She made a soft, frustrated sound. She was full of need, trembling. Henry's cock ached, his balls hardened and grew heavy. He'd never been this sexually aroused, this fast. Not for anyone.

  Suddenly he thought of his associates at St. Mary's hospital. It wouldn't be the first time they'd tried playing a practical joke on him. Once, when he was in Vegas for a convention, they'd sent two prostitutes to his room as their idea of a prank. No doubt they were behind this too.

  Why else would she wear an outfit like that and keep trying to kiss him?

  Once more she stepped back and considered Henry as if he was an art project she needed inspiration to complete. "I don't understand. Nothing's happening." Then she shrugged. "Perhaps it's not quite time. I did fall prematurely."

  He was at a loss to know how to proceed. He could throw her out again, but she might find her way back—however she was doing it. If he escorted her all the way downstairs and had her thrown out of the hotel where would she go? She had no shoes on her feet and in that dress...no, he couldn't have her tossed out of a hotel, in Autumn in New York City dressed like that. And under the influence of some illegal substance in all probability. What would the cops do? Put her in a holding cell with unsavory characters?

  Again she sneezed violently. "I am the only angel who ever gets colds, you know."

  Whoever she was, she needed assistance—medical or otherwise.

  "I'd better get you some help." He scratched his head, trying to think sensibly, which was incredibly difficult at that moment. This strange woman standing before him in a transparent gown was not alleviating the problem of an awkward, untimely erection under his bathrobe.

  "I'm not the one who needs help," she said pleasantly. "You are."

  "I see." Best not to upset her in her current mentally fragile state, he thought. "Why don't you go through and..." he needed to get her out of the bathroom, since it was the only way he might bring reprieve to a very hard, uncomfortable erection "...and...sit down. I'll be right out and we'll discuss this."