“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”
Chapter 20
Tansy
“Hey, you ready to go?” Ash’s voice comes through the hotel room door, just as I fasten the last button on my cardigan. We’re doing dinner tonight, just the two of us, and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I love spending time with the others, love spending time with Logan, but getting Ash to myself for a whole meal is more than I would have let myself hope for.
“Coming,” I answer, grabbing my shoes on the way to the door. I don’t want to waste a second of our night together.
Except, when I throw open the door, Ash takes one look at me and bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I demand, glancing down to see if maybe I’ve misbuttoned something. But no, everything looks like it’s in place—the oxford shirt, the cardigan, the khaki skirt.
“Is that really what you’re wearing to dinner?” he demands, pushing his way into the room and pulling me into his arms.
“I was planning on it,” I answer, pushing at his chest as I struggle against him. He doesn’t get to laugh at me and then kiss me like nothing happened. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It just … doesn’t look like you.”
I stop struggling at that and look up into his eyes. “What do you mean?” How does he know what looks like me when I don’t even know?
“I don’t know. You’re not preppy.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you so totally are not.” He reaches down, unbuttons the pale blue cardigan. “And I don’t think you’re pastels, either. No offense.”
“None taken.” Still … “What are you doing?”
“Getting this thing off you.” He yanks the garment down my arms and tosses it onto the chair next to the door. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
It totally does, but I’m not going to tell him that. “No.”
“Probably because you still have this ridiculous white blouse on.” He reaches for the buttons on the blouse, but I slap his hands away. “I like this blouse.”
“No, you don’t. It’s too plain for you.”
Again, how can he know that when I don’t even know it? “Maybe I like plain.”
He laughs. He actually laughs. “Yeah. That’s why practically every time I see you, your hair is a different bright color. And why when we walk by the shops downstairs, you’re always oohing and aahing over the brightly colored sarongs. And why you always, always play with the colored flowers on the table at dinner. Because you like plain, white, boring stuff.”
I stare at him, thunderstruck. “I never noticed that I did any of those things. Well, I mean, except the hair. That was obviously deliberate.”
His fingers sneak back up to my buttons and he unfastens them quickly, one after the other. Within seconds, my shirt is gaping open and then he’s peeling it off, too, tossing it onto the chair, as well, and leaving me in nothing but a white lace bra and this admittedly ugly khaki skirt.
“That looks much better,” Ash tells me, his fingers toying with the scalloped edges of my bra.
“You just like it because I’m half naked.”
“Well, obviously.” He unzips my skirt, tugs it over my hips and lets it fall to the floor. “There, now you look amazing.”
Seeing as how I’m dressed in nothing but white lace lingerie and a pair of black high heels, I can see his point. However, “I can’t go to dinner like this.”
“Sure, you can.” He walks me back toward the bed. “Haven’t you ever heard of room service?”
“I thought we were going out?” I pout a little as he lowers me to the bed.
Ash stops kissing my shoulder, pulls back so he can look me in the eye. “We can go out, sweetheart. I didn’t realize it meant so much to you.”