The Play Mate (Roommates, #2)

At our table, we were looking at our menus when Cullen cleared his throat. “I would like to make a special announcement concerning the company.”

Smith raised his glass. “No business talk tonight, brother. We’re in Paris for what could be a once-in-a-lifetime trip. Let’s just enjoy this good food, good wine, and good company.”

I smiled at him and took the last swallow of my martini. I assumed that Cullen’s big announcement was that Smith was going to become a financial backer in the company. It was something Cullen had mentioned before, taking on an investor. And since I knew Smith was a numbers guy, it was no small mystery that he’d be a silent partner-funding our next round of purchase orders, if it came to that.

Cullen nodded approvingly. “Fine. There will be plenty of time for work talk later.”

“Then cheers,” Smith said, his glass still raised. “To old friends.”

We clinked glasses, which were now mostly empty.

“Shall we order another bottle?” Smith drained the last drop of his wine and met my gaze.

“I’m game if you are.”

Though unspoken, I couldn’t help the deep wave of satisfaction I felt at the desire building between us.

Cullen signaled the waitress and ordered a bottle of merlot while Smith continued studying me from across the table. The wine was delivered with three fresh glasses and a loaf of warm bread, and since my stomach was tied up with nerves, I would have been fine with just this for dinner. Merlot and a good crusty bread? That was my idea of heaven. No way I could survive on one of those no-carb diets.

When the waitress returned, Smith asked about the specials and listened attentively, then ordered the steak. I smiled. My night was back on track.

Throughout the meal, I couldn’t help but notice the weight of Smith’s stare on me, the flash of heat I felt when his gaze roamed along my skin. Even little things about him-like the way his lips closed around his fork-enthralled me, and it was maddening.

Finally, dinner was done, the last of the plates cleared away, and I was ready to pull a page from my playbook and enact Plan: Fuck Smith’s Brain Out.

As my brother and Smith fought over the check, I excused myself to the restroom, needing to quickly relieve myself and check my appearance. After all, there’d be nothing worse than trying to get your freak on only to realize you had a piece of spinach between your teeth. Considering I hadn’t even eaten spinach, it would be especially troubling.

Rinsing my hands at the sink, I gazed up at my reflection in the mirror.

Am I sure about this?

I remembered that Maggie had told me most men preferred a woman shaved bare. But that was just too bad. I wasn’t going to change who I was for a man. I was neatly trimmed, and that would have to be good enough.

I ran through all the details in my mind. I had already tucked a condom inside the zippered pocket in my purse. Applying one last swipe of nude lip gloss, I gave myself a satisfied nod.

Not about to let my self-confidence waver now, I held my head high and strutted from the restroom. Back inside the restaurant, I spotted Cullen alone at our table as I approached.

“Where’s Smith?” I asked, stopping beside my brother.

Cullen stifled a yawn. “He said he was tired. I think the time difference is messing with him.”

He up and left? Just went to bed? He clearly didn’t read the fuck-me signals I was shooting him with my eyes all night.

Men.

I rolled my shoulders, needing to relieve the pressure I felt building.

Panicking internally, I plastered on a neutral expression and let my brother escort me to the elevator and up to my room, all the while my mind worked overtime. What am I going to do now?Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

Once in my room, I punched out a text to Maggie, pacing the floor as I waited for her reply.

Several minutes passed until I realized that it was four in the morning back home and a response wasn’t coming. Not anytime soon, at least.

This was it, now or never. And I wasn’t about to squander this opportunity.

I knew what I needed to do.

It was time to be bold.

Drawing a deep breath into my lungs, I headed toward the elevator again. But this time, my destination was the hotel lobby, where I prayed I could convince the hotel staff that I was the wife of Smith Hamilton and had lost my room key.