Jessica’s legs felt suddenly wobbly, and when Jamie offered his arm, she had no choice but to take it. Again, she could feel strength and confidence radiating off him.
The hotel lobby was refreshingly cool and relatively quiet after the warmth and activity outside, and it was jaw-droppingly posh. Soaring ceilings were plastered with a motif, and lit by gorgeous chandeliers, dangling crystals dancing with light. Deep rugs lay over highly polished dark hardwoods, and there was inviting furniture groupings in subtle, elegant neutrals. Under different circumstances she might appreciate it more.
Now, she wanted to say goodbye to Jamie. It would be too easy to get used to leaning on him. Jessica was not a leaner! She needed to collect herself. She wanted to go to her room and shut the door. She’d call her parents and not let on that a single thing was amiss. She’d act breezy and happy and as if she was having the adventure of her life. She’d take advantage of being in the big city and order room service. She’d have a bubble bath.
When she was feeling solid again, she would email Aubrey and Daisy. Or maybe, depending on the time differences, call one of them on WhatsApp.
They’d make her laugh about it. They’d let her know it was not the end of the world. They’d encourage her to see a fun side of it.
Then it hit her.
Email.
WhatsApp.
Part of the life of someone who owned a little something more than the rumpled clothes they wore and a damp, borrowed pocket square.
She and Jamie approached the main desk. Ever sensitive, she felt the look on the desk clerk’s face seemed to change ever so slightly when he saw them. Did his nose tilt toward the air, just a tiny bit?
No luggage, she realized. And a splotch on her jacket. Her hair spilling out of the clip in an untidy mess. Her walking was just a little wobbly, despite the solid strength of the man beside her. Good grief, the desk clerk thought—
She stopped dead, and Jamie stopped beside her and looked askance at her.
“I think he thinks we’re, um,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, and stood on her tiptoes, “having an evening...er...tryst.”
“A what?” Jamie lowered his ear to her lips.
She had a horrible temptation to nibble it. Which would confirm the clerk’s worst suspicions. She wasn’t drunk. She wasn’t. But had the two shots been enough to lower her inhibitions? Was she looking at Jamie with the same naked avarice as Debbie had?
She could feel herself blushing thinking about it. “We don’t have any luggage. And I might look a little come-hither.”
“Come-hither?”
“You know what I mean.”
Clearly he did not.
“He thinks we’re having a dalliance,” she whispered.
Jamie reared back from her and stared at her. “Who thinks that?” he asked, a warrior look on his face like he wouldn’t mind knocking some sense into someone.
She nodded toward the clerk. Jamie scowled in that direction, but didn’t, apparently, reach the same conclusion as her. He looked back at her.
“Look,” he said, his tone very quiet and obviously aiming for a patience and failing somewhat, “this is not the opening chapter of a Brontë novel, filled with dalliances and come-hithers and trysts.”
She frowned at him, and said stiffly, “You obviously are not familiar with the opening chapters of any novel by either Charlotte or Emily.”
“And thank God for that,” he returned. “I’m just trying to make the point this is the big city. I’m sure in Lumber Falls people might be making note of who is checking into the local hotel with whom, but people here don’t really take that kind of interest in each other.”
“It’s Timber Falls,” she said, correcting him on the only point she could, as the other was very accurate.
He lifted a shoulder with insulting indifference to the nuances between Lumber and Timber.
And the snooty clerk was still watching them.
“He takes that kind of interest,” Jessica said stubbornly.
Jamie apparently didn’t care what the desk clerk thought. With a formidable expression on his face, he took her elbow, guided her up to the desk and presented a business card. She saw the attitude shift again as the clerk skimmed the card. He glanced at her again.
Like she was the main character in Pretty Woman. Pretransformation. Not that she looked anything like Julia Roberts.
“He’s an evil little person,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper that information into Jamie’s ear. Too late, she realized to the clerk, it may have looked like a love nibble.
I am drunk, she decided. No, not drunk. Tipsy.
“Mr. Gilbert-Cooper, how may I assist you?”
“This is Miss Jessica Winton. You have a reservation made for her by my company?”
“I’ve lost my luggage,” she said, as way of explanation, to erase the possible perception of a nibble of Jamie’s ear and any remaining tryst thoughts from the clerk’s mind. It occurred to her, as the clerk tapped furiously on his computer, that her breath might be boozy, and the word lost might have been a trifle slurred. Those facts probably overrode her explanation for her lack of luggage.
Still, how she envied him that computer! On the other hand, the hotel would have one, wouldn’t they? A business center, with computers in it? Or was that old-school? Did everyone travel with their own computer now?
“Here you are,” the clerk crowed, as if he was surprised to find her. “Miss Winton, if I could just have your credit card and a matching photo identification, I’ll complete the booking.”
“There’s been an incident,” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t have that.”
Did the clerk smirk? His every suspicion confirmed?
Jamie’s tone brooked no nonsense. “The room is confirmed already on the JHA credit card. As for ID, I’ll have to show you mine. Miss Winton experienced an unfortunate event at the airport. Her luggage and purse were stolen.”
“I just said lost for the sake of expediency,”
