The Opium Room (2 page)

She took another glimpse into the restaurant just as another huge hunger pang struck.
God, I hope he didn’t hear that.
“Thank you, but I can’t.”

Fox shook his head in dismay. “I hate for a future customer to walk out of my hotel on a stomach as empty as yours. A shame. Especially since I was going to treat you to a cupcake from our on–site bakery afterward.” Tapping his chin, looking up, he said, “What was the cupcake of the day today? Oh, I remember.” He looked back at Lea. “It’s called Bourbon Bliss. Bourbon vanilla cake with chopped nuts topped with a butterscotch icing, rolled in pralines…”

It took every ounce of her willpower to keep her tongue from licking her lips. That sounded so tantalizingly good, she wanted to skip dinner and go straight to the cupcake shoppe. He must have insatiable–sweet–tooth radar. “All right,” Lea conceded. “You win. You have knack for persuasion, I’ll give you that.”

Fox smiled, flashing a row of flawless porcelain teeth. “Running this place, yeah, I guess I’ve learned a thing or two.” He gestured in the direction of Remedy. “After you.”

—Fox

Fox put his hand on Lea’s lower back and ushered her inside Remedy.

“Beautiful place,” she said.

“Thanks, lead the way,” Fox said, and walked a step behind her as she picked out a table. Later, he’d hold his hand over a stack of bibles and swear that he wasn’t leering at her legs; however, he’d be sure to leave a layer of space between flesh and vinyl.

There was something simple and unassuming about the way she presented herself that had attracted him from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. She was different from anyone who’d ever stepped up to Hypnotic check–in desk. No gaudy jewelry and overdone makeup for this lady. And she didn’t need it either. She had a wholesome, natural beauty about her that was rare in this ritzy area of Atlanta.

She chose a circular table with a curved bench seat in the back section of the restaurant, which worked fine for him; she was so soft–spoken that he found himself sometimes straining to hear her. Perhaps he should move closer so he could hear every detail about this one–of–a–kind, lovely lady.

Fox slid in after Lea, and they sat side–by–side where the bench curved in the middle.

“Good evening, Mr. Kemp,” Claude, a veteran waiter said as he passed their table with a tray full of food. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve, Claude,” Fox answered. “Is that all right with you?” he asked Lea after the fact. He shouldn’t have been so rude not to ask beforehand, but Claude looked like he was in a hurry.

“That sounds great,” Lea said.

Claude nodded. “Yes, sir. Let me get this order served, and I’ll be right back.”

“Mind if I ask the nature of the convention you’re in town for?” Fox asked.

“It’s for freelance website designers and developers,” Lea said.

“Which you are?”

“I am.”

“Sounds like you and I have something in common. I dabbled in a little web development myself.”

“How so?”

“The hotel’s server was hacked a few months ago, and I was able to track down the perpetrator the very same day. It headed off what could have been a huge disaster. Thankfully, none of our guests’ personal information was compromised. In the process, I learned that the same international perp also hacked a state agency’s website.”

Lea’s face lit up. “Oh, yeah. I heard about that. Wasn’t it Georgia’s Department of Revenue that was attacked?”

Fox nodded. “Luckily no state funds were touched during the data breach.”

“Wow. Job well done. You sure you don’t want to come to the convention and give a speech or two?”

Fox chuckled. “I’d love to, but that’s not really my thing. I’m usually on the receiving end of speeches.”

“From who? Surely, you don’t get any grief from the guests here. This place is magnificent.”

“No, the speeches come from my micro–managing father. He causes me more of stress than everyone else in the world combined.” That statement couldn’t be closer to the truth. A lifetime of belittlement at the hands of his father had left him feeling like a half a man. “But that’s another story.”

“I’m so glad I stumbled upon this place,” Lea said. “The aura when you walk into this hotel is unlike any other.”

“I’m glad you like it. We’re the only concept hotel in the state of Georgia.”

“Concept hotel?” A blank look set on Lea’s face.

Claude came to the table with two chilled wine glasses and poured the wine into each. “Shall I come back to take your order?”

Fox nodded, and Claude said, “Very well.”

“I came up with the idea to turn every room into a themed room when we renovated two years ago,” Fox said. “Each room is designed around a central Freudian theme. For instance, we have a room—”

Lea held up a hand, clipping Fox’s explanation. “You’re talking—Sigmund Freud?”

“Precisely.” Fox’s fascination with dreams and escapism was ingrained in him at an early age. His young life was filled with drama. Sure, he had every material thing a kid could ask for, but he had a violent father. And after what happened to his mother, well, all he could hope for was escape. This business was a vision he’d brought to life with the trust fund money he’d collected at twenty–one.

“That’s… interesting,” Lea said. “I’m from a small town, so I’ve certainly never heard of anything like that before. Tell me more.”

“Weary travelers request The Dream Room, which offers a sleep inducing environment with features like in–wall speakers that send out a choice of white noise or beach sounds, while simultaneous waterfall or beach imagery is projected on the dimly–lit walls.”

Lea smiled and Fox nearly lost his train of thought looking at the deep, angelic dimples on her cheeks. “Sounds like a room I’d like to spend some time in,” she said.

“If you ever do, make sure you relax in the marble soaking tub first. Then pull back the blackout curtains, turn on the imagery and sound systems, and fall asleep in total serenity.”

Fox’s descriptions appeared to induce a fantasy–like state in Lea. She’d propped her chin in her hand. Her lids became heavy, her blinking exaggerated. He couldn’t help but notice her long eyelashes. “Sounds divine,” she said. “Have you stayed in that room yourself?”

“Sure have, and I know from first–hand experience that it works.”

Claude came back and took their orders. Fox liked the way Lea glanced over the menu and picked the first thing that appealed to her, instead of asking a thousand questions about every item on the menu and then picking a salad, like most of his dates. Her choice represented her simplicity: spaghetti. No duck a la orange or any of the other fancy options. He himself wouldn’t eat it if it didn’t easily roll off the tongue when ordered. Fox went with the spaghetti, too.

He was glad his younger brother, Erickson, Karrigan’s twin, ran the two restaurants here at Hypnotic. Anything cooked by him was a fiesta for the taste buds. Fox himself couldn’t boil water, and he certainly was not cuisine–worldly. One simply named it, and Erickson could cook up just about anything from any country. At only twenty–two, he was a world–renowned chef.

Lea shrugged out of her cardigan and set it down on the bench beside her. The glowing candlelight on the table set off a shimmer on her soft shoulders. Her skin was milky white. Fox tried but couldn’t keep his eyes from going from shoulder to collarbone to perfectly natural cleavage. This woman was seducing him without even trying.

She put her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together right in front of her chest, blocking his view, but it was okay; he enjoyed staring into her big baby blues just as much. “I don’t get out much, and I find this hotel truly fascinating. Can you tell me more about the rooms?”

Fox didn’t want to intimidate her in any way, but The Dream Room was the most vanilla of all 162 rooms at Hypnotic. The rest were… well… sexier. Did he really want to get into The Fantasy Room with its plush king–sized bed with mirrors overhead and metallic shades of purples on the walls; The Seduction Room with its leopard–print rugs, gold sprayed ceiling, and self–burning candles on a permanent platform attached to the frame of the king bed in front of the stone–encased, wood–burning fireplace? The list went on.

“Well, like I said, they all have a particular Freudian aspect in one way or another. Think carved doors, high ceilings, low–slung couches with plush pillows and etched skylights. That’s Hypnotic.” But please don’t ask if he’d stayed in any of
those
rooms. He’d stayed in one—okay, a few—but the women had been forgettable. They’d used him as much he used them, thinking landing in his bed would somehow land them in his wallet. He could always see right through those kind of women. The one in front of him was authentic and he wanted a chance to spend some real, quality time with her. Not scare her out of there so fast her sandals caught fire.

“Too bad the convention’s not being held here,” Lea said, and Fox was glad she’d moved away from the room descriptions.

“Oh?”

“At least I know someone here.”

“Who?”

“Well, not know, but…” Lea stammered, fidgeting with her napkin.

Fox clasped a hand over hers on top the table. “I’m messing with you.”

“Oh, good,” she sighed in relief.

Fox didn’t want to come right out and ask her if she had a boyfriend, so he came up with something a bit cleverer. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you stay here and simply show up at The Sedgewick for the duration of the meetings? Nobody said you
have
to stay in the same hotel, did they?”

“Well, no, but accommodations at The Sedgewick have been paid for in advance. I doubt I could get a refund for a late cancellation. And not to be rude, but I’m guessing it would cost a small fortune to stay here.”

“That’s why it’s good to
know
”—he nudged her with his

elbow— “someone.”

Lea chuckled and gave Fox an extended look. He couldn’t figure out what he found so sexy about her pushing a lock of long, ash–colored hair behind one ear after it’d fallen across her eye. Maybe it was because her hair was untouched by a salon color. It was a simple shade of light brown that didn’t scream,
Look at me!
He couldn’t even say that; his own tips had been lightened in the hotel salon, Zen. But it had been at the urging of his sister, Karrigan. One of her friends had recently started at the salon and Karrigan, wanting Bianca’s first customer to be a friendly one with low expectations, volunteered her chum older brother.

“I appreciate the offer,” Lea finally said, “but I can’t. Even if you gave me a reduced rate, I’m sure I still couldn’t afford it.”

“Let me make it clearer; there’s no money involved. I’m offering my private room to you—no strings attached.” Lea’s eyes widened, and she straightened in her seat taking on her earlier, guarded posture, and he knew he better set her at ease fast. “It’s not like it sounds.” He was wishing it were. “You can have the room all to yourself. I wasn’t implying
I’d
be there at the same time.”

“Why?” Lea asked. “Why would extend me, a complete stranger, such a generous offer?”

“I’m incredibly attracted to you. I shouldn’t blurt it out like that, but it’s the truth. I hope you’re not taken, because I would love to get to know you better.”

“Well… your honesty is appreciated. I’d rather you shoot me straight. However, I’m recently divorced, and I’m not really looking to date at the moment.”

“Good thing the moment is such a fleeting thing,” Fox said with a grin. He had a feeling about this woman, a feeling down deep in the pit of his soul, that she was the one.

“Foooxx,” Lea said, wiggling a finger back and forth.

“Kidding. Seriously though, I don’t expect anything for it. But I would like to see you as a returning guest in the future. Let me earn your business, and maybe if I’m lucky… your friendship.”

“Hmm,” Lea said. A pause. “How do I know that you haven’t been offering up your room all week long, and I’m the first one dumb enough to take it?”

“Look me in my eye.” Fox angled his body, pointed to his face.

“Not last week, last month—not ever—have I invited a woman to The Opium Room.” Other rooms in the hotel, yes, he was guilty. But no one had ever slept in
his
room but him.

Hopefully, until now.

Out of nowhere, Karrigan came trotting up to their table out of breath. “Finally,” she huffed, placing a hand over her seemingly racing heart. “I didn’t know where you went, and I’ve turned this place upside down looking for you.”

“Karrigan,” Fox said out of one side of his mouth. “It’s kind of a bad time.”

“Sorry.” She gave Lea a regretful look. “Sorry about interrupting.”

“Oh, no, go on,” Lea said.

“Dad called my cell. He’s looking for you. Said he needs to talk about Jill’s report.”

“That’s our business consultant,” Fox informed Lea.

“Come on, Fox,” Karrigan urged, pulling on his upper arm. “Don’t make me tell you
exactly
what Daddy said.”

Fox pulled his arm away, crossed them. “Go right ahead. Tell us what he said.” As soon as it rolled off his lips, Fox knew that bold, impulsive remark would come back to bite him.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. To quote him directly, ‘Tell that damn brother of yours to get to my office
stat
, or I’ll cut his balls off and he’ll never sleep with one of the guests again.’”

“Shit, Karrigan.” Fox came to his feet, fast, stood in front of Karrigan as if to block with his body anything else that might be on the way out of her uncensored mouth. At the same time, Claude arrived at the table with their dinner. Fox stepped out of the way to give him room. Under his breath, he said to Karrigan, “Did you really have to go and say that? Now I look like a huge ass.”

“Sorry.” Karrigan held out her hands to her side. “I warned you.”

No wonder at twenty–two, Karrigan still sometimes acted like two. The only girl out of three kids, Roman spoiled her senseless… financially anyway.

After Claude had set the plates down on the table, Fox leaned into the booth and said to Lea, “I know how that sounded, but please do not take it literally. Trust me, if you knew Roman Kemp, you’d understand.”