“Well, now you know it’s justified.” I panted with fatigue.
Bert stepped out of the way so I could slide past him. “Crap!” I jogged into the bathroom and grabbed my toiletry bag.
“Makeup?” Bert asked.
“I got that. I have everything to look nice. I just forgot what I wear when I want to look dingy.”
“Normal, Livy. When you want to look normal. I wish I could wear my jeans.”
I smiled, leading Bert down to the street. “Hunter is leaving town. You’ll get a couple days off.”
“That’ll be nice.”
A traffic-clogged drive later, we met Hunter in front of his private jet. Large black letters spelling Carlisle were written on the side. He waited in fashionable jeans and a crisp white shirt that molded deliciously to his outstanding body. His hair was a messy sort of stylish, and a well-manicured five o’clock shadow adorned his handsome face.
I smirked when I walked up to him. “If you were trying to dress like a working man, you’ve failed miserably.”
He looked down at his clothes. “Why? I’m wearing jeans, just like you.”
“You are owning your extremely fashionable and ultra-clean jeans, not wearing them. You make those jeans actually look expensive, Hunter. That’s talent.”
A crease worked between his brows. He gestured toward the stairs leading up to the door of the jet. His stellar watch, which must have cost at least $15,000, sparkled in the light.
“The watch with the diamonds on the face was a nice touch, too.” I laughed. “Nothing says working man like a fancy watch.”
He didn’t reply as he followed me up.
The trip to Nevada was short and quiet. Hunter had his head bowed over his computer, as did I. I did not want to blow this trip for him, and he didn’t want to ruin this opportunity.
By the time we had finally reached our destination, a sprawling business complex about an hour outside of Las Vegas, we hadn’t said more than a few words to each other. If I hadn’t been so nervous about my role during this summit, that probably would’ve bothered me.
“Yes, Mr. Carlisle, thank you for joining us!” A man in his fifties smiled at Hunter from behind the check-in desk. Three large arrays of flowers shooting out of decorative vases dotted the countertop. Behind us in a greeting area, the size rivaling any Las Vegas hotel, sat a plethora of couches and chairs, and a couple of stations offering computer access. A TV spoke softly in the distant corner and a waft of soft music drifted from speakers in the ceiling.
“Okay…” The man laid out a piece of paper and immediately busied himself with plastic room keys. “Two rooms, is that correct?”
“Yes.” Hunter signed the forms and pushed them back across the counter before shifting his briefcase to his other hand. He stared at the man, his eyes hard.
That was his patient mask. No wonder people thought he was angry all the time.
“All righty, here we go.” The man laid two sets of keys on the counter in their little sleeves, open to the room number. “Second floor, rooms three-oh-five and three-fifteen.”
Hunter pushed the keys back toward the man. “No. The rooms need to be next to each other, adjoining if possible.”
“I am so sorry, sir—I see that in the notes here. Just a moment.” The man took to his computer with a knot in his brow. In just a moment, he nodded and clicked the mouse. “No problem. We’ll have to move you to rooms at the rear of the compound, but that can be arranged easily.”
“The rear of the compound?” Hunter asked.
The man looked up with a smile. “Yes, sir. Just to the back. You are a little further away from the heart of the hotel, but the rooms are bigger. Golf carts are at your disposal if you want to see the grounds.”
“Oooh, yay!” I blurted.
Hunter looked at me, confusion clouding his gaze. A moment later, his face cleared and the hint of a smile worked at his lips. He turned back to the desk. “Fine.”
I let my attention wander as someone came through the front door. I recognized the tall, handsome older man immediately, walking in like he owned the hotel and the world it was built on. Rodge Carlisle, Hunter’s father.
“Have a good stay!” The man at the counter beamed.
“Hunter,” I said quietly.
He looked at me before following my gaze. His body stiffened and his eyes took on a hard edge. He turned back to me. “Let’s go.”
Rodge saw me then, and gave that charming smile that opened doors and fooled the unbelievers. His eyes twinkled. He winked at me.
I gave him a scowl before turning away. I didn’t really have a reason to hate him—making a pass at me didn’t make most people a mortal enemy—but my allegiance was to Hunter, and if Hunter hated the man, then I was on board. Brenda didn’t like him either. Done and done. My you-suck face was in full effect!