Over Exposed (13 page)

She directed him to the employee parking area then fell silent again as he parked and turned off the engine.

Her smile was totally fake as she held out a hand for the keys.

“I should get upstairs and tell them I'm here. I'm not scheduled to work today but I should check in, let the manager know I'll be available to work tomorrow.”

“Sabrina—”

“I'm sure you've still got lots of work to do so I'll just—”

“Sabrina, stop.”

Her mouth snapped shut, her lips pursed as she stared up at him. She didn't actually check to see if anyone was around to overhear them but he knew she was probably worried about that.

And he understood. He did. It just . . .

Fuck.

Leaning closer, he spoke directly into her ear. “This, us . . . we're not through. I want to see you again.”

When he pulled back, she looked directly into his eyes, a blush coloring her cheeks. He couldn't tell if she was turned on, furious, or embarrassed. He really hoped it was the first.

She didn't answer right away and, when he heard her take a deep breath, he wondered if maybe he didn't want to hear what she had to say.

“I thought you were leaving tonight.”

“I am. But I'll be back for Thanksgiving. I want to see you then.”

She paused. “I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“I think it's a great idea.”

“Greg—”

He kissed her—hard, hot, and no holds barred. He figured if this was the last chance he was going to get, he'd better make it a damn good one.

She froze, totally unresponsive. Which just made him all the more determined to get a response.

Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her deeper, sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips and taking advantage of her tiny gasp to lick his way into her mouth. He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to take her back to his room right now and spend these last few hours before he had to get on a plane in a bed with her.

When he pulled back, she clung just the tiniest bit. And he loved it.

“Come to my room.” He let her hear the demand in his voice. “Dump your stuff and come to my room. I'm staying on the fourth floor.”

She blinked up at him. “I don't have access.”

“Here.” He reached into his back pocket and held out his keycard. “You just need to swipe it when you're in the elevator and it'll take you straight to the fourth floor.”

She didn't reach for it. Instead, she looked at it like it was a poisonous snake.

“I can't. I need to check my schedule. I'm not sure when I work—”

“Text me and let me know your schedule. We'll work something out.”

“Greg . . .”

She paused and he knew she wanted to tell him she wasn't going to show up. That he was too much trouble, way too demanding, and she had to think of her job first.

“I'm sorry. I can't. It was fun”—her cheeks burned with a faint but noticeable blush—“but this . . . affair isn't going anywhere. I thought we both understood that.”

Goddamn it.
He understood exactly what she was saying and he knew he shouldn't push. He also knew what he wanted, he usually got.

And he wanted
her
.

He'd never had much patience. Not for anything. And people who knew him knew he didn't give up when he wanted something. He slipped the keycard into her coat pocket.

“What I understand is that I enjoy spending time with you and I want to spend more time with you. I totally understand that you might have to work. I also understand that this thing between us . . . it doesn't happen often. And I want to see where it goes. Give me your phone.”

“Why?” The dazed look he'd put on her face with his kiss hadn't lasted as long as he would've liked.

“Because I'm going to give you my phone number. Here.” He pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket and held it out to her. “Put yours in mine.”

She didn't take his phone, didn't move at all, just sat there staring at him. Contemplating. He swore he could see the gears moving in her brain and his chest started to tighten.

“Bree—”

With a sharply indrawn breath, she reached for her purse and took out her phone.

A minute later, he continued to hold back his grin as they exchanged phone numbers.

“I really need to get upstairs.”

“I know. Hold on. I've got something else for you.”

He held out the SD card from his camera. He really didn't want to give it up, but he'd promised her.

Confusion made her frown for a brief moment before she realized what he was offering her.

“I'd prefer to keep this,” he said when she didn't reach for it right away. “I want to take these with me so I have a piece of you until I come back. But if you want them, they're yours.”

It took her several seconds, but finally she lifted her gaze to his again. “I trust you.”

Then she turned, opened the car door, and slid out.

But not before giving him a glance that was so blatantly sexual it made him groan.

After they'd gotten their bags out of her car, he watched her ass as she walked toward the service elevator and thought about all the things he was going to do when he got his hands on her tonight.

When the elevator doors closed, cutting her off from view, he let his lips curve with the smile he'd been suppressing and headed for the guest elevator.

*  *

Minutes later in her room on the ninth floor, Sabrina dropped her bag by the door to the bathroom then dropped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

She should take a nap. Her body vibrated in that state between hyper-alert and exhausted. She'd gotten maybe three hours of sleep last night. Not that she minded, but if she didn't get some rest now, she'd be dead on her feet the rest of the day.

What she really wanted to do was curl up next to Greg.

The keycard he'd given her felt like a lead weight in her coat pocket. Digging it out, she held it in front of her and stared at it. This card was red instead of the standard Haven blue and had no identifying marks on it. No words, no numbers, nothing. So—

Someone knocked on the door, making her gasp and bolt upright.

She immediately wanted it to be him.

Scrambling off the bed, she stuffed the keycard in her back pocket and hurried to the door. If he was out there, she didn't want him standing in the hall where the security cameras could—

“I have been
dying
to talk to you!” Kate Song practically jumped into the room and grabbed her in a tight hug as soon as Sabrina opened the door. “Tell me everything.”

Sabrina closed the door behind Kate with a rueful grin. “Hi to you, too.”

Kate dropped into one of the two chairs in the small seating area in front of the window in the spacious room. Her dark hair fell over her shoulder in a sleek wave, her dark eyes sharp and inquisitive. “Oh, please. What's a few formalities between friends. How are you? Are you okay? How was the sex? I want to hear everything.”

Sighing, Sabrina sank into the chair opposite Kate and propped her head on her hand. “And by everything you mean . . .”

“Whatever you want to tell me. Which should be everything. I thought maybe you'd need to talk.”

Did she? “I'm not sure there's anything to talk about. It's just sex.”

“Really? Just sex?”

“Sure. What else could it be?”

Kate's gaze narrowed. “You do know the man has had the hots for you since he met you? Have you
seen
the photos he took for my portfolio? And you can bet he kept some of those photos for himself.”

Heat flushed Sabrina's cheeks as she thought about the other photos he'd taken more recently. “You don't know that.”

“Yeah, actually, I do. Tyler told me.”

“Oh, my God. That's . . .”

Amazing. Arousing. Encouraging.

“How about ‘not surprising,'” Kate finished for her. “The guy has a serious jones for you. The question is, how do you feel about him?”

Giddy. Breathless. Horny. Terrified.

“Sabrina?”

“Yeah?”

Kate's nose crinkled. “I'm pushing, aren't I?”

“Just a little.”

“Sorry. It's just . . . I love you and I want you to be happy. And Greg . . .” Kate paused and Sabrina saw unease cross Kate's expression. Like there was something she knew that she didn't want to tell her. “Greg expects people to want something from him. All the time. He doesn't tend to really
like
people, if you know what I mean. He respects some people, he enjoys working with others, but . . . he
likes
you.”

The blush was back, but this time it wasn't embarrassment. It was heat.

“I like him, too. It's just . . . there's no future in a relationship with him. I guess I just need time to come to terms with that and make sure I don't fall head over heels for a guy who's always going to leave.”
Like most of the men in my life.
“That this is just a fling.”

“And how do you know that?”

She pulled a face. “Oh, please. The man runs his own film studio. He lives in California and he's basically a workaholic. I swear his phone never stops vibrating and he barely gets four hours of sleep a night.”

Yes, she wanted him, but she'd always be a couple of steps below the top of his priority list. And she didn't know if she could take that.

“So you had sex and that's it?”

“We had sex, yes.” She paused, not sure she wanted to reveal anymore. But she couldn't help herself. “And yes, he wants to see me again but that was probably just so I wouldn't make a scene—”

“No. No way.” Kate shook her head, hair waving over her shoulder. “That's not Greg's style. If he didn't want to see you again, he would have said, ‘Thanks. Have a great day. See ya later.' Greg doesn't say what he doesn't mean.”

“Well, maybe I don't want to see him again.”

“Don't you?”

She hesitated too long and Kate began to grin.

“Alright, of course I do. Who wouldn't? He's—”

“Gorgeous? Hot? Amazing? All of above?”

Sabrina grimaced. “A force of nature. And he's used to getting his own way.”

“Yeah, I see where you're coming from but . . . try to keep an open mind, okay? Don't just write him off as a fling right away. Give him a chance to prove himself.”

And let him break her heart?

That might be too much to ask.

*  *

“Sabrina, glad to see you made it back okay. I hope you didn't have any trouble on the road.”

Dredging up a smile for her immediate supervisor, Sabrina turned from the computer monitor where she'd been checking her schedule in the reception office.

“No, the main roads are pretty clear. We didn't have any trouble.”

Shit.
She wanted to bite her tongue and take back that one little word.

“Yes, I heard you had company on the way back.” Marissa Vale's dry tone made Sabrina cringe. “Greg Hicks is definitely one handsome man. Too bad he's such a . . . difficult person. He didn't give you any trouble, did he?”

Choosing her words carefully this time, Sabrina turned to face the other woman. The front office manager had a reputation among the staff for being demanding and exacting and the absolute best at what she did, which was take care of the guests. Didn't matter if they were heads of state or a couple celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary with their first trip away from the family farm in Wisconsin, Marissa made sure they all enjoyed the same high level of service at Haven.

At fifty-eight, she was the highest-ranking hotel employee and had been with Haven since Tyler had hired her before the hotel opened. She had a management degree from Cornell University, wore four-inch heels every day, and nothing and no one escaped her sharp blue gaze.

“No trouble. He talked about his new movie a lot.” Totally true and she decided she should stop there.

Apparently Marissa figured Greg couldn't have much interest in Sabrina because she didn't continue her questioning. “Well, I'm glad you're back. I know you're supposed to be off tonight but Laney was in an accident last night on her way to work and is going to be out of work for a few days.”

“Oh, no.” Sabrina liked the always-smiling Laney. “Is she okay?”

Marissa nodded, her gaze softening the tiniest bit. “She'll be fine. Just banged up and sore. Luckily she didn't have her son in the car with her. But she won't be in for a few days. I need you for the overnight tonight and possibly to cover another of her shifts later this week. Unless, you have other plans.”

Sabrina forced a smile. “No, no other plans. Of course I can fill in.”

There really was no other response.

Apparently, her affair with Greg was destined to die a fast death.

Six

Three weeks later

Pasting on a smile for the lone photographer hanging out in front of Haven, Greg stepped out of the limo and acknowledged the man with a wave.

Greg had no problem helping a decent guy make an honest living.

Tony DiGrigorio snapped a few photos to sell to whatever tabloid paid the highest, waved back, then hopped on his motorcycle and headed off, probably back home to his wife and two kids.

Considering it was nearly seven on the night before Thanksgiving, Tony probably had better things to do than wait in the cold for a few photographs.

With a nod for the grandfatherly doorman, who always had a smile, Greg entered the lobby and immediately looked toward the desk.

Sabrina wasn't there.

He hadn't figured it was going to be that easy. And frankly, he wasn't sure she was going to want to see him. It'd been three days since he'd texted her.

Yes, he had a legitimate excuse. He'd been busy as hell, barely a minute to spare with last-minute details and crises to handle before filming started in just a few days. And that didn't take into account the shitstorm brewing at his production company.

Still, for two weeks after he'd left her, he'd managed to communicate with her at least once a day. And then last week . . . Shit.

Heading for the elevator through the mostly deserted lobby, he nodded at the brunette behind the reception desk, who returned his acknowledgment with a brilliant smile.

Was she even in the hotel? If I text her when I get to my room, how long will I have to wait before I can get her naked and in my bed?

And how much would he have to grovel to get her there?

Greg hadn't even gotten his keycard in the slot in his door when the door to Tyler's apartment opened.

“Hey, how was your trip?”

“Long.” Greg pushed open the door to his suite, walked through and dumped his bags on the couch before heading for the tiny kitchen. “Fucking exhausting, actually.”

Tyler followed, stopping to lean his back against the door when it had closed.

“Bitch, bitch, bitch. Just like an old woman,” Tyler ribbed before his expression turned serious. “Anyway, I'm sorry but it's about to get longer. Daisy's here. Arrived this morning, went to her room, hasn't been out since.”

Grabbing a can of Coke, Greg turned to scowl at Tyler. “What the fuck? Trudeau said she hadn't talked to Daisy or— Wait. Just Daisy?”

Tyler nodded, his expression grave. “Yep.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that's what I figured you'd say.”

Greg slumped into a club chair next to the sofa. “Press figure out she's here yet?”

“Not that I know of. The desk hasn't fielded any calls for her yet.”

“Shit.” He let his head drop back, his eyes closed. “I need to go talk to her.”

Son of a fucking bitch.

He'd been planning to spend the night in bed with Sabrina beneath him. Or on top of him or in front of him. He wasn't picky. He just wanted her here with him.

The thought of seeing her tonight had kept him going for the past three days of hell.

The last time he'd texted her, she'd told him she hadn't been scheduled to work tonight but that she was having Thanksgiving dinner with her family around noon tomorrow and then she had to work the three-to-eleven shift.

Now he had to deal with this.

“She looked pretty wiped. Maybe she's asleep and you can let it go until tomorrow morning.”

Cracking open the soda, Greg took a sip before he opened his eyes and stared back at Tyler. “Yeah, you know it's never that easy with Daisy.”

“True.” Tyler's bland expression grated on Greg's last remaining nerve.

“What? Spit out whatever it is you want to say. It's been a hell of a long day. Actually, life's been a bitch pretty much for the past three weeks. And why are you dressed like you're going to a funeral?”

Tyler didn't bat an eye at Greg's bad-tempered diss at his dark suit and muted tie. “We're hosting the staff for dinner tonight. We close the dining room and hire outside waitstaff. We'd hire a chef, but you know Marco would never allow it. He and the kitchen staff fix dinner and then we all eat.”

So Sabrina would be at dinner. And she'd be missed if she didn't go.

Greg laughed but it was more in frustration than amusement.

“Do you want to join us?”

Hell, yes.
He wanted to see Sabrina any way he could. It'd be hell not being able to talk to her, touch her, hold her. Shit, he wasn't even sure she'd allow him to after all this time.

Maybe she'd decided he wasn't worth the trouble. He wouldn't blame her.

“Kate told me you've kept in contact with her.”

“Oh, yeah? What else did Kate tell you?”

“That you better not fuck with that girl's head.”

Greg had to set the soda can down before he crushed it, wanting to punch the wall.

“I don't want to fuck with her head.”

“Did you sleep with her up at the retreat?”

“What? You don't know already? And how is that any of your business?”

“Because she's one of my girlfriend's best friends, you ass. And she's my employee.”

“Which is exactly why this should be none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you decided to pursue her.”

His temples started to throb and he let his head fall back on the cushion again. “Jesus, Tyler. Why is that such a bad thing? You practically delivered her to me on a silver platter. What's changed?”

Greg opened his eyes again to see Tyler's smirk. “Not a damn thing. You know it's okay to actually like her, right? Or is there something else going on here that I'm not seeing?”

Greg gave Tyler the finger. “You're worse than my grandmother, you know that? I tell her not to read the tabloids or watch those shows but she still does. And then she calls me and wants to know why I don't bring any of those nice actresses I date home to meet her.”

Tyler gave him a raised eyebrow. “What the fuck does that have to do with this situation?”

“Because you're acting like an old woman, butting into a situation that's already filled with enough landmines. Christ almighty, yes, we slept together. It was fucking amazing. She's sweet and smart and I like her. I want to see her again. Enough already.”

Tyler's only response was a shrug. “Okay. So where do you think Neal is?”

Greg ran a hand through his hair, trying not to anticipate disaster or get whiplash at Tyler's change of subject. “Who the fuck knows. I guess I'd better go find out.”

“Do I need to brace the hotel for an onslaught of paparazzi?”

“I'll let you know after I talk to Daisy.”

“She seems pretty upset.”

“I'm sure she is.”

“Of course, you can never tell with Daisy,” Tyler continued. “She's a damn good actress, after all.”

Greg eyed Tyler without speaking. Daisy and Tyler had met several times when she and Greg had stayed at Haven as a couple. Tyler had never treated Daisy poorly but he'd never warmed up to her, either. And it was hard not to like Daisy.

Yes, she could be demanding but she was never a diva. She treated everyone as a potential best friend—which usually backfired on her. People thought because she was so sweet, she was also a pushover.

Not so much. In fact, you really didn't want to piss off Daisy. She could cut your heart out with a few words and leave you bleeding to death, but when she loved you . . . well, you were the center of her world.

It's what had allowed her to put up with him for all those years. She'd loved him. And then she hadn't because she'd met Neal. And anyone who'd seen Neal and Daisy together could see how much they loved each other.

Yet Greg had only seen how potentially devastating that relationship could be to both of them. Like what was happening now. Except Greg hadn't expected them to take him along for the ride.

Finally, Greg responded. “Yeah, she is. Give me a few hours. I'll figure out if she was able to get here unseen.”

Christ, if anyone figured out Daisy and Neal hadn't arrived together the tabloids would go crazy. Considering filming was supposed to start next week, Greg didn't need an onslaught at the set. He'd managed to keep the exact filming site under wraps by having Trudeau lay out several decoys. He'd hoped to get at least a couple days of shooting in without the press hounding them.

He'd planned to schedule interviews at the end of shooting but now he might have to rework that timetable. He needed to call Trudeau—

Tyler stood and headed toward the door. “Just let me know what's up.”

“What? That's it? No more third degree?”

“Nope. I figure you've got enough on your plate right now. And you know how I feel. Hurt Sabrina and I maim you. And after that, I'll let Kate go to work on you. That will be even less pleasant. Let me know what's up with Neal.” Tyler opened the door but turned before he closed it behind him. “Hope this doesn't fuck your shooting schedule. I know it's tight.”

“Yeah, me too. Hey, Ty.”

“Yeah?”

“You see me screwing with her head, you have my permission to kick the shit out of me.”

Tyler gave him a look that said he thought Greg was being fucking hilarious. “Don't need permission. I'd do it anyway. See you at dinner?”

“Thanks, but I doubt it.”

“She's working the overnight shift. Just FYI.”

Tyler closed the door, leaving Greg to consider adding something a little harder to his Coke before he headed up to see Daisy.

Nah, might make things worse.

Taking a detour through the bathroom to splash water on his face, he checked his email and messages, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Trudeau hadn't contacted him at all. Neither had Daisy.

No, she'd simply shown up here. Four days early. By herself. Without the man who'd been glued to her side since she'd left Greg for him.

Fuck.

On the elevator, he texted Trudeau, who got back to him in seconds.

No, haven't heard from either of them. Let me know what you need.

He needed this fucking shoot to go well. He needed this film to be exactly what he wanted it to be.

He wanted to see Sabrina.

First things first.

The top floor of the hotel consisted of six suites, three each on either side of the elevator. He stopped at the door to Daisy's, took a deep breath, and knocked.

He almost hoped she didn't answer.

No such luck. The door opened just as he was getting ready to knock a second time.

The second Daisy saw who it was, she flung herself into his arms and started to cry.

And Greg watched all his careful planning go up in flames.

*  *

“. . . heard she checked in without her husband. Could mean nothing. Could mean there's trouble in paradise.”

“And when isn't there trouble in a Hollywood marriage? Seriously? How can anyone have a normal relationship in that business?”

Sitting at a table with other members of the registration staff, Sabrina had been trying to have a good time. Really, she had. But Greg was returning sometime tonight.

Would he call her? Would she see him?

Beside her, Darryl Heister gave her shoulder a nudge and smiled at her. “You've been awfully quiet. Not interested in Hollywood gossip, huh?”

Sabrina returned the smile of the tall, slim man with skin the color of cocoa and eyes as gray as storm clouds.

“Just a little tired. Feel like I've been fighting a cold.”

“You've been working way too many hours,” piped up Teresa Dumbroski, her riot of brown curls contained in a ponytail that fell most of the way down her back. “Heard you drew the short stick for tonight. That sucks. But I'm going home to two toddlers hopped up on sugar because my mom is babysitting and doesn't know how to say no to her demon grandchildren.”

Darryl laughed. “Your children are
not
that bad. Did I tell you what Shawn did to Derek last night?”

The two thirty-somethings continued to trade tales of their children as conversation at the table swirled around her. Sabrina made sure she smiled and added to the conversation, but mostly, she tried not to think about Greg.

And didn't correct Teresa's assumption that she'd been given the overnight shift.

In reality, she'd asked for it.

Coward.

Absolutely. She'd known Greg was coming back tonight and she'd wanted to be busy when he did.

“Did you hear about Daisy Devlin? She showed up early this morning.” Teresa leaned closer to Sabrina so she could talk to Danica. “She seemed nice enough when she checked in but she looked like she was crying. And her husband's not with her.”

“Ooh.” Danica's eyes went round. “And Greg Hicks just rolled into the hotel an hour or so ago. I wonder if they're starting up again. They'd been engaged for years before she and Neal hooked up.”