Eyes Wide Open (8 page)

Just under an hour later they were ensconced in Wyatt’s favorite club, which, despite his protestations, everyone knew was his favorite because he had a thing for the manager. It didn’t matter, though. It was a fun place to be and the drinks weren’t too expensive. Fiona, starting to wind down, followed a bunch of her workmates onto the dance floor, and began enjoying herself—swaying, jigging and bopping away to the cheesy music. Soon, the fun, the atmosphere and the alcohol made her busy week and its period of weirdness fade away into insignificance.

* * * *

Usually, they rolled back into the hotel—through the staff entrance, of course, so as not to risk having their drunkenness on display to the patrons—any time between two and four a.m. But due to one of the girls from accounts, Sorcha, having an argument with her boyfriend by text message, then getting falling-down drunk as a result, Fiona was back at the Totally Five Star by just after midnight. She was buzzed from what she’d drunk so far, but was still well in control, so she’d opted to make sure Sorcha got back to the hotel in one piece and safely into bed.

She’d been aided by Olivia from housekeeping, who wasn’t much of a night owl anyway. So much so that she, too, had gone straight to her room after dropping Sorcha off, leaving Fiona to waver between going to bed or heading back to the bar for a couple more drinks and to chat with the bar staff for a while. Choosing the latter, five minutes saw Fiona perched on a stool in the bar, keeping Carlos and Rafael company in between them serving customers and clearing tables.

She’d spent quite a bit of time in the bar over the weeks she’d been working at the Totally Five Star and had found it a good way to get to know her colleagues. It was easier than going out in a huge group and trying to make conversation with everyone. In the bar area, she could just talk with the two or three staff members currently on shift, grabbing snippets of conversation between them serving customers. As a result, she was pretty friendly with all the bar staff.

A sudden influx of patrons meant that Carlos’ and Rafael’s attentions were on mixing and pouring drinks, leaving Fiona to amuse herself. She subtly watched the guests, wondering if she could guess what they’d order, and what had brought them to the hotel. Her curious nature and active imagination were soon conjuring up all kinds of situations, most of which she was sure were way off the mark. But making stuff up was keeping her entertained.

That was until a hand on her shoulder made her jolt and spin around on her stool, her heart pounding so hard she worried it’d turn her ribs to dust. Clutching at her chest, she said without thinking, “Fucking hell, you scared the shit out of me!”

A second later, which was a second too late, she realized it wasn’t any of the group she’d gone out with returned to the hotel, but Blue Eyes. He stepped back, holding his hands up. “Whoa, I’m sorry, Fiona, I didn’t mean to startle you. I did speak, but you were obviously in your own little world.” He gave a wry grin. “I just came over to see if you wanted to join us.”

Glancing to where he indicated Green Eyes sitting at a table, she nodded politely in response as Green Eyes raised his glass to her in acknowledgment. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her pulse still skipping. “Please pardon my language. You startled me, and I thought you were one of my friends. I apologize.”

Shrugging, Blue Eyes said, “Don’t worry about it. My language is bluer than the Atlantic Ocean. Think nothing of it. So…would you like to join us?”

Fiona was torn between the answer she wanted to give, and the one propriety dictated she give. Figuring the latter was a great deal more sensible, she replied, “Thank you, but I don’t want to gatecrash your evening. I was just chatting to my colleagues here, until they got busy.”

“I know. I saw. But you won’t be gatecrashing, because you’ve been invited. Come on. We’re quite interesting, really. I’m Logan, by the way. Logan Chisholm.”

Shaking the hand that was offered to her, Fiona tried not to let her brain linger on the fact that his hand was large and strong, and would probably feel amazing on her—

“Fiona Gillespie,” she forced out, with a smile. “Nice to meet you, officially.”

“You too. I take it you’re okay after your incident earlier in the week?”

Glad that the dim lights would hide much of her blush, she replied, “Yes, thank you. Absolutely fine. Thank you again for being so kind.”

“No problem at all. It was my pleasure. Now, at the risk of sounding like a broken record, will you be joining us or are you going to send me back to my buddy with my tail between my legs?”

Giving her puppy dog eyes and a pout, Logan clearly knew how to win people round, which probably went some way to explaining his apparent success.

Laughing, she slid carefully from the stool, picked up her drink and her bag and said, “All right, all right. You win. But you’d better be as interesting as you say.”

Logan didn’t respond, but his arrogant smirk and the glint in his eyes kindled a heat low in Fiona’s abdomen. Damn, that was all she needed—her hormones to start getting involved again. Look what had happened last time. Falling into step behind Logan, she took a couple of deep breaths and resisted the temptation to scurry to the elevator while his back was turned and bolt for the safety of her room.

Unbidden, her gaze dropped to his backside. Today, he was dressed more casually, but was still smart in his jeans and deep blue shirt. And, just like his suit, his jeans looked tailored too, so perfectly did they mold to his high, firm-looking arse cheeks. Cheeks she’d quite like to grab great big handfuls of, preferably as they were naked and thrusting—

This time, her smutty thought process was cut off by their arrival at the table. Green Eyes stood as they approached and pulled out a chair for Fiona, pushed it in as she sat down, then retook his own seat. “Hi,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m James Kenrick. I’m glad you decided to join us. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

“You mean when I’m not having a coughing fit.” Heat overtook her cheeks again as she released his hand and wished like hell her mouth wouldn’t run off so often without consulting her brain, especially not in front of two of the most gorgeous guys she’d ever seen. Guys who, for some unknown reason, wanted to speak to her, spend time with her.

“Well,” James said, shrugging, “yeah. I mean, if that’s what floats your boat, so be it. But I’d rather have you talking to me than coughing at me.”

Smiling tightly, she lifted her glass to her lips before mentally reminding herself to slow down, to take it easy. Chugging down the drink to hide her embarrassment could set off a repeat of the other day, giving all three of them a serious case of déjà vu. Not sexy. Sipping carefully, she enjoyed the mild burn of the gin as it slid down her throat, savoring the pleasant buzz, then put the glass on the table.

“Fair enough. So what would you like to talk about? Logan assures me you’re both very interesting, so I look forward to hearing about you.”

“I didn’t say
very
interesting,” Logan interrupted, that smirk on his face again. “I said we were
quite
interesting.”

“Huh. Silly me. I should have held out for conversation only with
very
interesting men, shouldn’t I?” She wasn’t entirely sure where her sudden sassiness was coming from, but a splutter of sudden laughter from James spurred her on. “You pair had better not be dullards, or I’m leaving as soon as I’ve finished my drink.”

“Bloody hell”—Logan held his hands up again—“you drive a hard bargain, Fiona. Well, as long as you don’t cheat and down your drink in two seconds flat, James and I will do our best to up our game from quite to very interesting. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Fucking hell, what am I doing?

Chapter Ten

“Great.” Logan slapped his hands down on the table, which was sturdy enough that none of the drinks were in danger of toppling over, then picked up his pint. “Well, to make sure we’re more interesting, we’ll have to loosen our tongues a little. Let me go and get some more drinks in, all right? Can I get you one, Fiona?”

Eyeing her own glass, which was still half full, she said, “No, I’m all right, thanks. Maybe on the next round. If you’re still interesting, that is.”

Grinning, Logan downed the rest of his drink, then glanced at his friend. “James? I’m going on to Jack and Coke. You?”

“Yeah, the same. Thanks.”

They both watched Logan for a couple of seconds as he strode toward the bar, then turned back to each other. “So,” James said, his sinful lips curving up into a smile that should have been illegal, “what interests you, Fiona? Got to make sure I’m barking up the right tree, here.”

She shook her head, ignoring the increasing heat low in her abdomen. “You’d better not start making stuff up. I don’t want any fibs. Why don’t you start by telling me about the two of you—where you’re from, how old you are and what brings you to the Totally Five Star?”

Shrugging, he said, “Okay, that’s simple enough. I’m James Kenrick. I’m twenty-nine and from Cambridge. He’s Logan Chisholm, also twenty-nine, also from Cambridge. We work in property development, have our own company. We’re actually pretty regular visitors to the Totally Five Star. Although we’re based in Cambridge, we have to travel a fair bit, for site visits, business meetings and so on. London, of course, is the center of the frigging universe, so we’re here a lot—meeting clients, wining and dining them, pitching for their business. Sometimes we stay here en route to heading out for international flights. Did that answer your questions?”

It most certainly had answered her questions, but it had also raised plenty more—and not ones she could voice without being rude.
How in the hell do two twenty-nine-year-olds end up with their own business, one that is so successful that they are regular visitors to a luxury hotel?
Maybe she should hang around with them for a little longer. Perhaps their business acumen and success would rub off on her.

“Yep.” She took a sip of her drink before continuing, “And I’m still interested so far. Not fascinated, but not bored, either. Tell me more about the business, then. How did that come about?”

James was rattling off the story when Logan reappeared, placed the drinks down and settled into his seat. Smiling at Fiona, he stayed quiet as his friend talked, speaking only when James appeared to have finished.

“So,” Logan said, turning his gaze onto her once more and making her feel as though she’d had her bottom glued to the chair, “that’s us in a nutshell. Now are we allowed to ask about you?”

Gulping to try to relieve her suddenly dry mouth, she nodded. “Y—yes. What would you like to know?”

“The same as what James just told you.”

“All right.” It didn’t take long. She, after all, didn’t have an incredibly successful business to speak of, and her career was in its infancy.

“Ah,” Logan said when she was done. “That explains why we haven’t seen you around here before. We suspected you were a newbie. How are you finding it here, so far?”

“Great. I was incredibly lucky to have landed the role, and even luckier to discover I like it and am good at it—or at least I think I am. My boss, Sophia, seems pleased with me.”

“Fantastic. It certainly helps when you’ve got a genuine passion for your job. So, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you all dressed up, yet were sitting in here chatting with your colleagues behind the bar? Not that this place isn’t amazing, but London’s full of nightlife. Shouldn’t you be exploring a little farther afield?”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “I was enjoying that nightlife not so long ago. A bunch of us—staff, I mean—were in Soho. But one of the girls had an argument with her boyfriend, then proceeded to get incredibly drunk. I and one of the others decided to bring her back here before she passed out, threw up or got arrested. We put her to bed, and I decided to have a couple of drinks down here before calling it a night myself. Then you appeared and scared the crap out of me. What about you guys?” She didn’t confess to having seen them earlier. They’d have no doubt wanted to know why she didn’t speak or at least acknowledge them.

“The same, actually.” It was James who spoke this time. “Well, not
exactly
the same. We were in Soho too, and some drunken arsehole kicked off in one of the pubs. It turned ugly and a bunch of people started fighting. We weren’t involved, of course, but we witnessed the whole thing. As soon as we could leave, we did. Didn’t feel like going anywhere else after that, so we thought we’d have a couple more quiet ones in here before heading to our suite.”

Fiona wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, yeah, I can understand why you wanted to get out of there. Not good. You certainly wouldn’t see that kind of behavior in here. No wonder you guys like staying here so much, especially if you have a suite.” As she said the words, their implication sank in. If they had a suite, then they weren’t just successful, just well off. They were
filthy rich.
Again, she asked herself why the hell they were talking to her. And—if she hadn’t gotten it totally wrong—flirting with her a little, too.

“Oh yeah,” Logan said. “We always have a suite. We take up quite a lot of room.” It was then she noticed that he’d almost finished the Jack Daniel’s and Coke he’d bought. “And it certainly helps that the suites are soundproofed.” He let out a bark of laughter and grinned over the table at James, who returned the smile, but his looked forced—more like a grimace.

Clearing his throat, James returned his attention to a confused Fiona. “So, where are we currently on the interesting scale? Do I need to start dancing on the table?”

Tutting, she replied, “That sort of behavior wouldn’t be allowed in here, either. I dunno… You’re somewhere between ‘quite’ and ‘very’, I guess.” Then her curiosity got the better of her.
Dead cats be damned
. The hotel was enough off the beaten track that traffic noise wasn’t an issue. “How about this? If you tell me why having a soundproofed suite is such a good thing, I’ll let you buy me another drink.”

The men glanced at each other, and James glared at Logan momentarily, before altering his expression to a charming smile. “Oh.” He waved a dismissive hand. “That’s nothing interesting, I’m afraid.
He
snores.”