up behind the counter.
“How long do you want it for?” Pulling up the calendar on the computer, I checked the availability for the next few weeks. “We have one open for a week and another for three.”
“Not good enough.” He rested his arms on the counter. It gave me the perfect view of his strong biceps being hugged by the material of his shirt and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be held in them.
Stupid. Don’t go there … ever. You’re not looking for any kind of romance.
He clasped his hands together, one finger tapping against his knuckles, and I remembered it was my turn to respond.
“Why? How long were you thinking of staying?”
“About three months.”
It took me a moment to recover, stunned he remembered my plan. I had been expecting him to be out of the way within a week or so. A month maximum. Regaining my composure, I glanced up from the computer screen. “If you don’t mind changing rooms after three weeks then I can extend everything. Does that work?”
“Sure, whatever. How much is it?” One hand dipped below the counter and came back into sight holding a wad of notes.
“What did you do, rob a bank?” I squealed as I noticed each note was worth fifty euros. For a split second, guilt filled his wide eyes. His lips parted in shock and he tried to speak a few times, though all he managed was a stutter.
“Tell me you didn’t. Please tell me that’s not your dark secret and now you’re on the run.”
While he chuckled, it sounded forced … almost nervous. Had he been a normal tourist I would have sworn the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead were from the heat. However, from the way he refused to make eye contact, and the uneasiness in his suddenly upright stance, I would have bet all of my money on the idea it was his secret causing the reaction.
“I didn’t rob a bank,” he said finally, the words sticking in his throat.
“What is it then? Embezzlement, fraud, old fashioned burglary? Did you kill someone?” I paused, my lips and hands beginning to tremble. “Shit, that’s it. You killed someone for the inheritance, didn’t you?”
His gaze remained fixed on an object over my shoulder, his mouth tightening into a firm line. His eyes darkened and he barked a humourless laugh. “I didn’t kill anyone for their money, Gingernut. Calm down.”
“What did you do then?”
“I told you, it’s my inheritance. You’re not going to make me lose the bet so easily.”
“It was worth a shot,” I grinned, mimicking his words from the train, hoping they would dispel the lingering awkwardness as I took his cash and returned to clicking around on the calendar for a minute.
“Okay, you’re all set. Here’s your key and you’re in room twenty-nine, which is—” Glancing up from the screen once more to hand everything over, I stopped abruptly when I realised he was no longer there. “Cole?”
“Yeah?” His head appeared back over the lip of the counter from where he’d been crouched. He swung his bag over his shoulder—the one I hadn’t noticed he had until now—and held out a hand for the key. I dropped the chain into his palm, making sure our skin didn’t collide by accident, and held my breath in the hope he’d leave.
“Room twenty-nine?”
“Oh, second floor and the furthest room on your right out of the lift.” The familiar prickle of heat turned my cheeks red. I didn’t need a mirror to know that.
What is this guy doing to me?
“You’re not going to show me up?”
“You managed to find me here, so I think you’re capable of going up two floors.”
I swear the corners of his mouth dipped and disappointment clouded his eyes, but he left without question.
CHAPTER NINE
Cole
“The burgers are good here. I’d eat one every day if I could,” Alaya stated while I scanned the menu. She didn’t even bother to pick hers up.
Having taken her break early, we were now both sat in the hotel restaurant
Clive Cussler, Paul Kemprecos