She didn’t bat an eye at the sudden tension in his tone. “Yes.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No.”
It shouldn’t bother him. They’d had one night together. One night was usually all he made time for. If her fleeing his hotel suite was any indication, Calandra wasn’t interested in anything more, either.
So why was he jealous?
She opened the door and walked out. Alejandro caught the door before she could close it and stepped out into the hall.
“Shouldn’t you put on a shirt?” Calandra kept her gaze averted as she stalked down the hall to the elevator, the plush carpet masking the sound of her heels. An elderly couple walked past him, the woman’s mouth dropping open as she took in his bare chest. The husband made a sound of disapproval and tugged his wife’s hand, urging her along.
“I’m comfortable. Besides,” he added with a grin as the elevator dinged and the doors whooshed open, “nothing you haven’t seen before. Or kissed. Or nibbled—”
“I get it.”
Before she could close the elevator doors in his face, he stepped in beside her and pressed the button for the first floor. The doors closed.
And suddenly they were alone once more in a very tight, very intimate space. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, felt the snap of electricity between them. He went hard in an instant, memories of their lovemaking rushing through his mind as his blood roared in his ears.
Mine, mine, mine.
He risked a glance down. Calandra stared straight ahead. She thrust her shoulders back, pressing her breasts against her neckline. That dark hair tumbled down her back, and he barely stopped himself from reaching out and tangling his fingers in the silky tresses.
The thought of her leaving the hotel room had filled him with a sense of urgency, almost a desperation to keep her in his sights. But now, as he took a step away from her and the temptation to press her up against the wall of the elevator and kiss those luscious lips, warning bells clanged.
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to be rid of her and the urges she inspired.
The elevator stopped and the doors opened, revealing the lobby. Grecian columns marched down the room, flanked by urns spilling over with deep pink blooms. A row of chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Soft instrumental music shut out most of the noise from Fifty-Third Street as taxis, buses and cars rushed by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Calandra marched out of the elevator, heels clicking on the rosewood floor. Alejandro followed at a casual pace. As much as he wanted to return to his room, order breakfast in bed and catch a few more hours of sleep before his flight, he forced himself to do the right thing and at least see Calandra safely into a taxi.
The front desk attendant glanced up and did a double take as he passed, her eyes widening behind her enormous glasses.
“Um...sir—”
He winked at her. “I know, forgot my shirt. I’ll make it right in a minute, I promise.”
He quickened his pace as Calandra burst out the front doors and raised her arm. By the time he walked outside, she’d already hailed a cab and was reaching for the car door.
“Allow me.”
Alejandro opened the door with a flourish and bowed. She tossed him a narrow-eyed glare as she climbed into the car.
“Thank you,” she murmured stiffly.
“You’re welcome.”
She turned her head, probably to deliver a cutting remark, but whatever she was about to say was lost as their eyes met. The coldness disappeared once more, steel softening into misty gray that flared bright with desire, longing and...
He blinked. Something so sad it tugged at his heart.
“Calandra, I—”
She shook her head and reached for the door.
“Goodbye, Señor Cabrera.”