Let It Snow (76 page)

He kissed her hand again. “I’d like to see you there when I get back.”

“I can have an
answer
for you when you get back.” She sighed. “Whenever that is. I have a few months left on my lease.”

“I don’t think I’ll be gone that long.”

“But you can’t say for sure.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. I’d like to go thinking you’re leaning toward yes, though.”

“I’m leaning toward yes,” she admitted, somewhat grudgingly. She hated the idea of giving up something she’d struggled to keep for so long, but she was tired of being stubborn. Sometimes, complete independence wrought complete exhaustion.

He pressed his hands to her cheeks and leaned in for a long, thorough kiss. “You still have a key. Make yourself at home. Feel free to clear some space in my dresser and leave your panties in it.”

She smiled. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“G?”

“Hmm?”

His expression had gone serious. “Please answer your phone. Whatever number comes up on it, just answer it.”

She bit back an argument, but the little voice in her head that had grown louder since she’d stopped suppressing it so much, said, “
Don’t make this a battle
.”

“I may be able to check in from a payphone or someplace secure.”

“I’ll keep my phone near.”

“Do that.” He kissed her again, and brushed his lips across her cheek to her ear. He tugged on the lobe, and she gasped as he started whispering, “And I’m going to send you letters. They may not come with return addresses, but you’ll know they’re from me. And in them, I’m going to tell you things I want you to do.”

Her pussy clenched at the edge to his voice. Already, she knew his edicts would be simple home improvement chores. She swallowed. “What kinds of things?”

“Oh…” He twirled the end of her ponytail. “I’d like to surprise you, but suffice it to say that I’d like your ass to be primed for me when I get back. So, maybe I’d ask you to wear your plug while doing chores. Maybe I’d…” His hand slipped down to her lap and inched up her him. “Hmm…maybe I’d tell you to lay on my bed with that plug and play with your clit until you came. Or maybe I’d tell you what to do with all those clamps.”

Oh, God, the clamps
.

“H-how would you know if I did it?”

“Because you wouldn’t lie to me.” His fingertips fluttered against the valley of her thighs, and she parted them for him. “You want to please me, don’t you? And know I’ll give you what you need?”

“Yes.”

“Simple as that, honey.” He fixed her skirt and straightened up in the driver’s seat. “You’d better go clock in.”

Sighing, she picked up her purse, and grabbed the door handle. “Can you call me when you land?”

“I can probably do that. Oh—by the way. Henri wanted to see you this morning. He’ll probably be in his office.”

“See me for what?”

He shrugged.

“Is he firing me?”

“I doubt it, honey. Give me another kiss and go. I want to emblazon the image of your ass while walking away into my memory.”

She rolled her eyes, but kissed him. “Bye.”

He winked and waved.

* * *

Giselle clocked in, and made her way from the employee break room to the management offices. She straightened her blouse and skirt, and then poised her fist in front of Mr. Beaudelaire’s door.
If I’m lucky, he’s not here.

She knocked.

“Come in, Ms. Burke.”

Shit.

She cleared her throat, and opened the door, only to freeze at the threshold. “Sorry. Max said to come by. If I had known you had another meeting, I would have waited.”

Mr. Beaudelaire, looking fresh as a damn daisy at dark o’clock in the morning, waved her in. “No, no. You’re not interrupting. This is a joint meeting. Have a seat.”

“Uh…” She let her forehead furrow, and took the chair nearest the door.

Mr. Beaudelaire tipped his chair back and spun his pen between his fingers. “I’ve been doing some thinking lately, thanks to you.”

“Me? What did you do?”

“You remember telling me that you requested off and couldn’t get it approved because of our policy not to put inexperienced staff on the floor during Den events?”

“Vaguely.”

“Ms. Gibson and I looked over the staff lists and discovered we have a shockingly low number of tenured staff able to work those events. That is something we’ll strive to correct before the next event. Like I said, we’re due for a shake-up, starting now.”

She nodded. She didn’t know what to say, really, besides
thanks for telling me
, so she kept her lips zipped.

“And since we’re going to bring on and train new staff members for specific roles and career paths, I wondered if this would be a good time to ask existing staff if they’d like to change their positions here. I think most have been here long enough that they’d know if they had interest in other areas of hospitality. We’re a world-class hotel, but our quality is predicated on the happiness of the staff.”

“I see.” She had no idea what he was getting at. Just sounded like a lot of pretty words, really.

“I was just discussing with Chef what his staffing needs are, and he’s been shorthanded for a while. We’re shorthanded in a few departments, actually.”

Giselle twined her fingers atop her lap and just nodded again.
What’s he getting at?

“I will be asking all the staff in time what their plans are, but I wanted to ask you first since you inspired the idea.”

“Ask me what, precisely?” She was generally the kind of woman who inspired sins, not epiphanies.

“I’ll be plain. Would you like to transfer to a different department? Of course, nothing would change except your role. Your pay grade will stay the same until your next evaluation.”

“I earn tips.” She clamped her hand over her mouth.
Shit, that was tacky.

He waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll average them out and adjust your base pay if you do choose a new department. I want tenured staff at all levels, and the best way to get that is to ensure they’re fairly paid. So. What are your interests?”

“Huh.” She suspected Max had a little something to do with Henri’s new scheme, but for once, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She knew opportunity when she saw one. And that whole
complete independence
thing was sorely overrated, anyway. What was wrong with a bit of favor for a change?

She cast Chef a sidelong look. “I’ve…been wanting to transfer into the kitchen for some time. I think I’d be happier behind the scenes, and I’m comfortable with food.”

“Suits me fine,” Chef said, and stood. He crammed his hat onto his head and moved to the door. “I need to get back into the kitchen. We’ll work on getting you transferred over after this crop of Den guests evacuates.”

That’s it
?

Seemed way too easy in her opinion.

When he was gone, Giselle turned to Mr. Beaudelaire and daringly narrowed her eyes at him.

He raised a brow.

“Max put you up to this, didn’t he?”

He set down his pen and opened a file folder on his desk. It had her name on the tab. “Whatever do you mean, Ms. Burke?”

“Maybe it’s ballsy to ask, but you’d really turn this hotel on its ear to make one staff member happy?”

“No. I’d turn this hotel on its ear to make
all
of my staff happy. The hotel is important to me, Ms. Burke, but The Den more so for reasons I choose not to make public. I need people I trust supporting it. These events help people let go of their inhibitions. Maybe they don’t all make a love match while they’re here, but I’d like to think that most go home eager to connect to someone in a significant way. That’s important.” He canted his head to the side. “Don’t you agree?”

Her cheeks burned as she nodded. Even working for the hotel as long as she had, she’d thought the Den of Sin events were all about sex. Being a guest for a change, and with Max, had taught her otherwise. The sex was just an excuse to connect. To argue.

To make up.

She walked to the door, ready to start one of her last days in Room Service, and turned back with a thought. “You know, if you really want the staff to serve The Den well, it might help if they were invited to see what they’re missing. Just once.”

“Ms. Burke, I believe you’re right.”

“Come on, honey, pick up the phone.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and closed his eyes against the pressure in his sinuses. Living out of a cheap motel room had some distinct disadvantages, including exposure to certain allergens that didn’t exist in rooms that had been vacuumed in the past decade or so.

He sat at the end of the lumpy bed and grimaced at the legs-up cockroach beneath the dining table.

“For fuck’s sake.”

Fourth ring.
Goddammit, G,
pick up.

“Hello?” came her wary voice.

“Hey, honey. Merry Christmas.”

“Max?” Her voice went up a good octave at the end of his name, so the sobbing that came next came as no surprise.

Didn’t break his heart any less, though.
Damn, this job.

“Yeah, it’s me. This is a temporary phone number. Come on, honey, don’t cry. You know I don’t know what to do when you cry. I’m all the way out here and can’t do anything for you.”

“I can’t help it. I’ve been worrying since you got there.”

“Been worrying about you, too.” He looked down at his scuffed boots and the worn carpet, and suddenly hated this part of his job. It was easier for him to be cool and rational about it when his lady was within arm’s reach, but now he just felt sick and it wasn’t just the nasty goddamned carpet. “I’ve only got a few minutes to talk. What’d the doctor say? Did you go?”

She sniffled. “Yeah, this memory thing is called dissociative amnesia. There’s really a name for it.”

“How ’bout that, huh? I figured there might be.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy. Looks like it’s genetic, too. Usually triggered by trauma. Stress. I guess that’s why Mama’s out of the loop so much. I’m trying to get her to go with me to therapy. No luck so far.”

“I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. I gotta say I think about quitting this gig so I can make sure I’m always nearby. So you don’t walk into traffic like you said.”

She laughed, and sniffled again. “You don’t mean that.”

Today, he did.

“Besides, I’ve got a new buddy in the kitchen at work. Chef has tasked her with keeping me out of trouble. She’s one of those mother hen types who’s always brooding, anyway.”

“Are you happier now? In the kitchen, I mean.”

“Yeah. I’m happier now.”

“Good. Hey, there’s a gift for you at my place. You know the big cookie jar I store ammo in?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s in there. Look the next time you go over.”

“I’ll go tomorrow after work.”

“Okay.” He wished he could be there to give it to her in person, but he didn’t want to wait for her to have what was inside.

He blew out a ragged exhale and walked to the bathroom. He flicked on the light and rooted in his toiletry bag for the last of the Benadryl. Living in pseudo-squalor may have upped his credibility with the gang he was infiltrating, but it was hell on his head.

“Listen, G, I gotta go. I just wanted you to know I was okay.”

“Keep being okay.”

He pulled his hair free of his motorcycle jacket’s collar and barely resisted scratching the new ink beneath the large bandage at the crook his neck.

Fucking outlaw gangs and their goddamned tattoos.

He scratched it and grimaced.

Yet another one that he’d have to get blasted off after he got back to New Orleans.

“You keep being okay, too, honey.”

“I’ll try. So…any instructions for me? I’m at home alone.”

His cock swelled in his jeans. God, his girl really knew how to work him up, but the last damn thing he wanted was to be rubbing one out in Hell’s own bathroom. He was probably going to catch something incurable just from breathing the air in there. Or maybe he’d get MRSA on his dick.

Anyway, they had plenty of time for their bodies to reacquaint when he got home. Right now, minutes on the phone were precious.

“All right, how about this?” He grabbed the pills and hit the lights on his way out. “Put your hand over your heart.”

“Okay?”

“Feel it beating?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to take a moment and do that every day while I’m gone. Write a note to remember if you have to. But I want you to do it and know that with every heartbeat that passes, I’m that much closer to coming home.”

“And when you do?”

“And when I do…” He tossed the pills into his mouth, swallowed them dry, and thought about that little velvet box in his cookie jar. “Well, I hope you won’t be mortified at wanting to tell me
yes
. I love you. It’s okay to say yes when you want to, honey.”

She didn’t respond. That worried him, because Giselle always had to have the last word.

“G?”

He pulled the phone back from his ear and looked at the screen.

Out of prepaid minutes.

“Fuck.”

He flopped onto the bed.

He’d never been so motivated to close out a case in his life. He’d been up for thirty hours, but now he did begin to nod off, thinking of who he got to go home to. He would be vigilant and go home to her.

And hopefully this time, it’d be with no new bullet wounds.

CONTEMPORARY & EROTIC CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

Den of Sin

Two Strikes

Ménage à Troys

As Sweet

O for Two

Winterball

Hearts and Minds

Saint and Scholar

Calculated Exposure

Seeing Red

Storafalt Stories

Back to Storafalt

Teaching the Cowboy

Gift from Carolina

Solo Books

Colleen’s Choice

My Nora

Sold As Is

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

Afótama Legacy

The Viking Queen’s Men