Maybe that’s why he’d come here tonight. He knew sooner or later he’d have to figure out where to spend the night, but calling up the few acquaintances he knew in the city or attempting to check into another hotel appealed to him as much as having his back waxed.
Why should he risk it anyway? His so-called friends would sell him out in a nanosecond, and if the other hotel clerks in Manhattan were anything like the guy from the Lester, Ben would only find himself on the news again.
He’d thought about renting a car and driving upstate, maybe checking into a little B & B, but something had stopped him from leaving the city.
No, not something. Someone.
More specifically, the curvaceous redhead whose green eyes kept darting in his direction.
Damn, but she looked even sexier now that he was fully awake. All that silky red hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be wavy or straight. Those emerald eyes. The tight little body. Looking at her now, he kinda wished he’d asked her to stay in his hotel room last night. Would’ve been a lot more fun than the self-gratification session he’d had to indulge in after she’d left him with a raging hard-on.
Though he couldn’t really explain it, this woman had been on his mind from the second he’d opened his eyes this morning to the moment she’d walked up to his booth, and now he was glad he’d listened to the strange urge that told him to see her. He’d been on edge all day, but sitting here in this booth with nothing to do but read a book and wait for Maggie to go on break, he didn’t feel as stiff. The tension in his back had eased, his muscles were relaxed, and for the first time in a long time he was relishing in the feeling of being anonymous.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Maggie exchange a few words with that brown-haired waitress who’d been eyeing him all evening. The sight of the two women whispering caused a sliver of unease to pierce through him. Damn. Were they talking about him?
Was Maggie, at the moment, confirming his identity or denying it?
The latter became likelier, as Maggie’s fellow waitress frowned, then pouted, then glanced over at Ben with supreme disappointment.
He stuck his nose in his book to hide a smile. Why had she covered for him? She really had no reason to do that, but the fact that she’d respected his request for privacy pleased him to no end.
When she sidled past his booth again, he couldn’t help but shoot her a grateful smile. She didn’t smile back, just spared a brief look in his direction and sauntered by.
Was that annoyance he just saw flickering in her emerald gaze?
Ben turned around and watched as Maggie maneuvered her way around the large, dimly-lit room, which was slowly beginning to fill up. Most of the scattered tables and wall-to-wall booths were occupied, and a popular hip-hop song now blared from the bar’s speaker system. Since it was Saturday night, Ben knew the place would soon be filled to capacity, but he couldn’t bring himself to duck out just yet.
He was far too fascinated with the redhead across the room.
Her ass looked tempting in that short denim skirt, making Ben’s hand tingle with the urge to squeeze that sexy feminine curve. His gaze drifted north, to her slim back and all that wavy red hair cascading down it, and he was startled to find his dick hardening at the sight.
Jeez. When was the last time he’d gotten an erection from ogling a woman’s back?
Lowering his eyes to the novel, he tried to shake off the desire raging through his blood, but though he managed to get a fair amount of reading done, Maggie’s presence constantly distracted him.
His senses kicked into overdrive, trying to remember every detail from last night. How sweet her hair had smelled when it brushed against his cheek. The heat of her body pressed against his. The taste of her lips. The urgency of her tongue. The way her pussy had tightened over his finger when he’d slid it inside her.
The mouth-watering memories only made it more difficult to keep his cock in check. Finally, unable to concentrate on the thriller in front of him, he closed the book and glanced at his watch again. Quarter to nine. Man, time sure flew by when you were fantasizing about a hot redhead while pretending to read.
“Do you think it’s him?” came a high-pitched female voice.
Shit. Even in his fairly isolated booth, Ben knew the two women sitting on the tall stools by the counter had a clear view of him. He yanked on his baseball cap at the same time he heard the two words that made him cringe—“Ben Barrett.”
All the muscles that had relaxed stiffened again, and his brain ordered him to get out before either of the females at the bar decided to approach him.
Maggie’s throaty voice stopped him from rising.
“Sorry, honey, it’s not who you think it is.” She gave a loud, exaggerated sigh that made Ben’s lips twitch. “I thought it was him too, but it’s not. I already asked.”
“That sucks,” said one of the women. “I heard he’s in the city.”