“Um,” I stammered and looked away and then back to him. “Sure. I’ll—just go do that then.”
He laughed and pulled the towel from around his neck, throwing it back into the bathroom behind him. And that’s when I saw the tattoo.
Scrawled in elegant jade-green script just under his left collarbone, it was easy to read and very simply designed. Just one word. A woman’s name. Sabrina.
I couldn’t look away, my eyes zeroing in on that interesting detail. He glanced down to follow my gaze and then looked up again.
“If you’d just give me a moment…unless you want to stay and do this now?” he said with laughter in his eyes.
My mouth dropped. “I’ll go order lunch, then,” I repeated lamely before fumbling my way out, nearly tripping down the stairs.
I ordered his roast beef sandwich with the works—he hadn’t told me what he wanted on it, after all, and for myself, a grilled cheese with smoked brie and Gruyère.
By the time I was done with the order, he had entered the room, now fully dressed, thank God. Even in jeans and a button-down shirt, he was the epitome of handsome elegance. And even in my breezy sundress I felt awkward next to him. I wondered if that mega-suit he’d worn at the hotel during our first meeting was a fluke. Computer geeks typically didn’t suit up. Most of the coders I knew liked to brag about the casual dress their jobs allowed. But he didn’t seem like a typical computer geek.
Then again, how would I know? I knew so little about him.
That was the way I’d wanted it, right? Wham, bam, here’s your cash, ma’am? And suddenly it occurred to me—with no small amount of fear—something I’d never worried about until this moment. What if I didn’t please him? What if he found me wanting in the bedroom? I was completely inexperienced, after all. Would he feel cheated? Like he hadn’t gotten his money’s worth? I shook my head, ridding it of the odd thought. What was happening to me?
“Cold?” he said, misinterpreting my headshake.
“No. I’m fine. Thank you for the dress.” I said, smoothing my skirt.
“Thank Heath, actually. He had to talk me out of ordering a chainmail bikini.” When I shot him a weird look, he laughed. “Kidding. I asked him to pick out some pretty things for you on the Harrod’s website and have them delivered to the airport lounge. Seems everything went off well.”
I snorted. “Heath picked this out?”
He looked puzzled. “Yeah. Why’s that surprising?”
“He has the fashion sense of a barnacle.”
“He is gay, right?”
“He’s gay. But he’s not that kind of gay. He’d wear a burlap sack to work if they’d let him—or if burlap sacks were comfortable.”
Adam’s eye traveled down my form appreciatively, but not lasciviously. “He knows colors, that’s for sure. That color suits your dark hair and eyes perfectly. You look radiant. And more importantly, you don’t look like you’ve just spent fifteen hours in transit.”
I spread my arms out in front of me. “Good thing.”
“Are you tired?”
“I chugged a Dr. Pepper on the flight from London and bought another one when I landed here.”
“Good. Let’s eat and then we can see some sights. I was thinking maybe the Royal Palace and a trip down the canals?”
I brightened and he smiled at my obvious excitement. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to!”
Room service arrived then, and the waiter set it out on the table as if he was a maitre d’ at a Michelin star restaurant. And we weren’t just eating some sandwiches.
My croissant and melted cheese was to die for. Adam laughed at my obvious pleasure in the food, but I could tell he was having a similar reaction to his roast beef. “If I could get away with flying these in for lunch every day from Amsterdam to Irvine, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
“Oh, that’s probably pocket change for you.”
“Nope. I could never bring myself to do it. An ostentatious waste. I already feel enough guilt over my carbon footprint and I pay to offset it. But when I do get a chance to stay here, I make sure to have one. I also took one to space with me.”
“Shut up!” I said, my eyeballs almost falling out of my head. “You’ve been to space?”
He nodded, finishing up his next bite. “I spent ten days at the International Space Station last year. Biggest high of my life.”
Every minute I spent with this man, he managed to surprise me even more. “Are you an astronaut, too?”
“A space tourist, more like. The Russians sell slots on their launches to the highest bidder. I got lucky. It happens often,” he said, shooting me a meaningful look.