His touch was light, but it burnt through her clothing like fire, each nerve vitally aware of his closeness. Idiot, idiot, she cautioned herself as they walked towards the main door, but it didn't help. He only had to touch her and she turned _to jelly. So she had to make sure he touched her as little as possible. It was up to her. But it was going to be hard. She glanced at his cold, handsome face from under her eyelashes. Very hard.
_the interior of the hotel was even more impressive than the outside, and as they entered the sumptuous lobby a bellboy moved forward instantly to relieve
Wolf of the suitcases at the same moment as the receptionist glanced up from her desk, the practised, cool smile warning considerably as her eyes fastened on Wolfs tall frame.
"Mr. Strade." The smile warmed to gas mark nine. "We've been expecting you, sir. Your usual suite is ready."
"Good." Wolfs smile was polite but not particularly enthusiastic, but it didn't seem to cool the girl's interest an iota, if the bright gleam in her eyes was anything to go by.
"Would you prefer dinner upstairs, sir, or in the restaurant?" The receptionist's hard blue eyes nicked over Lydia briefly.
"Your usual table has been reserved in case you chose to dine there." She smiled up at him warmly.
"The restaurant, I think." He turned to Lydia with dark eyebrows raised.
"Would you prefer to eat there?"
"I..." She pulled herself together with considerable effort as her mind raced. What was this about a suite? And where was her room? And she definitely would prefer to eat in the restaurant, surrounded by plenty of other people.
"The restaurant." She smiled with her mouth as her eyes narrowed. He didn't think she was sharing. Of course he didn't. He couldn't. Could he?
He could.
"Come along." As the bellboy took the key _and picked up the suitcases again. Wolf led her towards the lift.
"Where's my key?"
"What?"
She came to a halt just outside the lift and, as Wolf saw the expression on her face, he indicated for the bellboy to go ahead.
"We'll be up in a moment."
As the lift doors closed on the young man's studiously blank face, Lydia glared up at Wolf, her eyes darkening to coal-black ebony.
"My key. Where is it?" she asked tightly.
"You don't need a key." His voice was completely expressionless.
"I have the key to the suite of which your room is one of two bedrooms. "
"You've reserved a suite?" She was trying to keep her voice low, but anger was throbbing through every word and she was fighting a losing battle.
"A suite?" she repeated furiously.
"Yes, Lydia, a suite." His tone was infinitely patient now, his manner that of a responsible adult dealing with a difficult and troublesome child, which in the circumstances was calculatedly insulting. She glared at him angrily.
"Well, you can just unreserve it," she said tightly.
"I want my own room."
"You've got your own room." His eyes narrowed on her flushed face.
"In the suite."
"There is no way I'm staying here in a suite with you," she said tensely.
"I want my own room with my own key."