“I don’t mind.” There’s a short pause at her end. “I have to go now… meeting.”
“Talk later.”
“Yes… and make sure you have something to talk about.”
After the call, I check the time on the phone. It’s already past eight in the morning, far later than I usually wake up. I hurriedly take a shower in the oriental themed bathroom and dress in a pair of cream pants, a blue cotton shirt, and a jacket. I brush my hair and let it hang loose, applying nude lip-gloss and one coat of mascara before leaving my room.
From the living room, the doors to the balcony are open. I find Landon already dressed in one of his exquisitely tailored shirts, a dark gray one, with a black silk tie and dark trousers encasing his long legs. He’s sitting in the sun at a low, wrought iron table surrounded by four cushioned chairs. His hair is combed back and gleaming golden as he sips from a glass of orange juice, a newspaper spread out on his lap. For a long moment, all I can do is stare at him, my stomach twisting with yearning.
I tear my eyes away from his perfection, transferring my gaze to the view behind him, which is almost as breathtaking as he is.
He notices me standing at the doors. “Good morning,” he says pleasantly, his eyes following me as I join him at the table. “Did you have a good night?”
I’m not going to tell him that I spent the whole night wanting him. “Perfect,” I reply, giving him a bright smile.
He smiles back. “Juice?”
I nod and he pours me a glass of the cool fresh drink. As I savor it, a uniformed waiter wheels in a breakfast tray and starts to set the table. “I asked for toast and fried eggs, with some coffee,” Landon informs me. “If you would prefer something else, you can let the cook know.”
“This is fine.” I watch, entranced despite my annoyance with him, as he butters a piece of toast, his fingers moving deftly. How does someone make something as simple as buttering a toast look so sexy?
He hands me the buttered toast and starts on another one. “Tony is arriving this morning. He’s going to be staying a floor below for a few days before he returns to New York.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll leave for the Gold Dust after breakfast,” Landon continues. “You’ve discussed your itinerary with him?”
“Yes. I meet with the hotel manager today, tomorrow the designers, and the photographers after that.”
“Good. I’ll be busy all day. I’m meeting with the whole refurbishment team, then the project managers to iron out a few issues before the project closeout.”
Is that his way of telling me that he won’t have any time for me? I eat my breakfast, wondering if now that I’m available, no longer presenting a challenge, he’s lost interest in me. I sneak a glance at him and he’s watching me. He doesn’t look like someone who has lost interest. No, I’m not getting that vibe.
We finish breakfast, and as the waiter clears the plates, Landon glances at his phone. “Tony’s here,” he tells me. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” I get up, intending to go to my room to pick up my bag, but when he gets up too, he’s standing in my way. He lifts a finger to my mouth and wipes a speck of butter from the corner of my lip, where the napkin must have missed. Then he lifts the finger to his lips and licks it, making me go weak at the knees.
“I’ll wait in the living room,” he says softly, as if he’s oblivious to the effect that simple action has on me.
I hurry to pick up my bag, legs shaking, heat pooling between my thighs. I don’t understand what’s going on anymore, and if it continues, well, I’m going to have to confront him. I almost do that on the elevator ride to the ground floor, but it only takes a few seconds for us to get to the lobby, where Tony is waiting.
“Good morning, Mr. Court, Rachel,” he greets cheerfully, shaking my hand.
I return his smile. “How was your flight?”
“Smooth.”
We walk outside to the entrance, where under the awning, a gleaming black car is waiting. Landon is talking on the phone, but he opens the door and waits for me to get in before walking around to the other side.
The interior of the car is black leather and I sink into the seats, thinking how I could get used to the luxury that’s par for the course with Landon. In the car, I listen with half an ear as Landon and Tony talk about issues concerning materials and delivery delays.
Unlike the Rosemont Royal, The Gold Dust is set far back from the street. There’s a short drive to the entrance, edged with flowers and with artwork on the lawns. The front of the building looks newly painted, a testament to the refurbishment going on. The sign over the entrance is still covered with some sort of protective sheet. Inside the lobby, the floors are also covered but the walls are bright, with freshly painted moldings and panels. The high ceiling is a dome, decorated with gold leaf.
“It’s lovely,” I breathe softly.
“I’m glad you think so,” Landon says from beside me. I wasn’t even aware that he was so close. I look up to see those blue eyes on my face, and my breath catches. “I’ll see you later,” he says, patting my arm, before leaving me to start with his itinerary for the day.
An arm-pat. Seriously. I came all the way to San Francisco for a pat on the arm.