I don’t hear him move, but the next moment Lachlan’s hand is gripping my shoulder. “You look tired, Katie. When did you last take some time off?”
It’s almost exactly what Dr. Green asked me, but there’s an extra layer of irony coming from him. Back in college, Lachlan Cook might have been a beta living in a frat with alphas, but he always came out on top. I know he worked hard and had to deal with some biased bullshit - both on and off the field - but nothing ever seemed to dim his winner’s glow.
He evensmellslike sunshine, I realize as I tilt my head and give him an arch look. “What did I tell you about calling me Katie,Cookie?”
He thinks about it for a moment, then gives an amused bark. “You used to complain that it made you sound like a preppy cheerleader.”
“Exactly. And I was never part of your fan club, remember?”
“I remember.” He sits on the edge of the desk, his eyes holding mine. “But I was always part of yours, even if I didn’t show it very well.”
“Mmm.” I look away from the intensity in his gaze, feeling my cheeks grow warm. Talking about college has dredged up too many memories – both the good and the bad - and I need to refocus this discussion back on my future. “So, what happens now? I’m not saying I’ll do it, but I’m prepared to think about it some more.”
“I can give you an information pack to look through. If you have any questions, we can meet up again and discuss.” He takes a manila envelope from the desk behind him and clips something to the front. “That’s my business card, but my personal number is on there, too.”
I take the package and after an awkward moment, I stick out my hand. It feels silly and formal, but Lachlan looks absurdly pleased as he engulfs it in his. “I’ll read through it and get back to you.”
I head to the door, and I can feel his gaze on my back the whole way. As I turn the knob, he says, “Just so you know, Katie, if you go ahead with this, I expect there will be a lot of interest in your heat.”
I look at him in confusion. When I got my test results, I thought of my final heat as a last straw, but Lachlan sounds almost wistful. “Really? Why?”
Color darkens his tanned cheeks, and he shakes his head, like he’s not quite sure how we ended up here either. “Like I said, you deserve the best, Katie. I just hope I can help you get it this time.”
CHAPTER TWO - KATE
It’s nearly eleven pm and I’m dead on my feet as I reach the penthouse floor of the Liberty Hotel. I usually only clean and prepare the rooms, but the kitchen is short-staffed tonight, so I’ve been roped into dinner service. Everything in my body aches, from my unsupported arches in the ugly shoes they make us wear, to the twin points of pain throbbing in my temples. Thankfully, the wealthier guests expect 24/7 silver service, so I’m not carrying a huge tray on my shoulder, but I still groan as I push the cart along the corridor. The friction from the plush carpet slows me down, and when I arrive at the suite, I’m tempted to just shove it through the door and leave. But I need this job, and the kind of people who can afford a penthouse suite demand a little knee-bending with their supper.
“Room service,” I call in my best customer-friendly voice. Since the rooms are soundproofed and most guests are too lazy to open their own doors, I don’t wait for a response. I give a cursory knock, then swipe my key card over the scanner and push my way inside.
This approach might be the most expeditious, but on the downside, I’ve walked into a few compromising situations thatI’ve lived to regret.
Like a half-naked guy walking out of the bathroom with blood dripping down his face….
“Oh, my God!Are you alright?”
A startled head swings in my direction, a curtain of chocolate brown hair brushing the omega’s square jaw. It perfectly matches his dark eyes and compliments the acres of taut, golden skin on display. I can’t help noticing that while he’s shirtless and the washcloth he’s holding to his face is soaked in blood, he’s still wearing immaculate black dress pants and expensive leather brogues. “Um… I think I fainted and landed on my face.”
“Ouch! Come on, you should sit down.” When he sways on his feet, I gently take his arm and steer him away from the bathroom door. This is a junior suite, which means the bed is just through an alcove, but he still stumbles as I lead him over and settle him on the edge. “Pinch your nose and tip your head forward while I grab some ice from the cart.”
“Ugh.” He looks down at the stained washcloth. “I hope blood doesn’t make you woozy.”
“I’m fine as long as I’m not the one doing the bleeding.”
He gives a muffled laugh, and I gently remove the sodden cloth, replacing it with an ice-packed one. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Um… I’m not sure. I came in, went to the bathroom, and then the next thing I heard was you knocking on the door.”
I try to think back to the first aid course I took in college. If we can get the bleeding to stop, he probably doesn’t need to go to the hospital unless he suffered some other trauma when he fell. “Are you dizzy? Did you hit any other part of your head?”
“No, just my nose, I think.” He grimaces as he swallows, and I grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge, waiting while he drains it in a few thirsty gulps. “I do feel kind of lightheaded,” he says when he’s done, “but that could just be hunger pains.”
He presses a hand to his taut stomach, and I glance down at the perfect grid of muscle. He doesn’t have an inch of fat on him, and I quickly look away, hoping he didn’t catch me staring. “Well,thatI can fix. You ordered both the steak frites and the crabcakes, so you can take your pick.”
He gives a heartfelt groan, along with a pair of wide, puppy dog eyes. “Don’t tease me! If I ordered anything – which I didn’t - it would have been the most boring salad on the menu. Dancer’s rules.”
He’s a dancer? It distracts me from the fact I’ve delivered dinner to the wrong room, and when I dart another glance at his chiseled physique, the pieces suddenly fall into place. “Oh, my God. You’re Dash Devereux!” His name catches in my throat – an alarming squeak he probably hasn’t heard since puberty. “I saw you in Nureyev’sRomeo and Julietlast year. That balcony scene? I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” He lowers the cloth to take another sip of water, his dark eyes smiling into mine. Now that most of the blood is cleaned away, I can smell his scent – like the morning dew tea I used to drink when I could still afford it – and I feel my pulse flutter under my own scent gland. “Admit it. You liked seeing me down on my knees, didn’t you?”
