One Night With A Billionaire(17)
Cade pointed at a door down the hall and she led him in that direction, noticing that he seemed to be leaning on her more and more the further they walked. They got to the door and she looked at him expectantly. “Keycard?”
“In my front pocket.” He gave her an interested look. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to reach in and get it for me?”
Good lord, was Cade flirting with her? The man must have been truly plastered. “That’s very sweet,” she told him. “But get your own card.”
“Can’t blame a man for trying,” he murmured.
“You’re drunk,” she told him. “You wouldn’t hit on me sober.”
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I don’t have taste,” he told her. But he fished his keycard out of one pocket, winked at her, and then slid it across the scanner.
The door chimed open and Cade pulled his arm off her shoulders, leaving her feeling oddly bereft. “Want to come in for a moment?”
She hesitated. Going into a strange man’s hotel room at three in the morning? Probably a bad idea. “I really shouldn’t.”
“Just for a bit? I could use the company.”
Kylie waited on his doorstep a moment longer. She wasn’t thrilled about heading into the wilds of Chicago late at night by her lonesome, and she’d always wanted to see a penthouse. And Cade was harmless. He wouldn’t attack her . . . no matter how much she might wish it, heh. “Just for a minute,” she cautioned him. “And then I should get going.”
“You want a drink?” he asked, stepping into the suite. “I’m sure I have a minibar around here somewhere.”
She followed him in, closing the door behind her and trying not to stare at his hotel room.
It was . . . crazy. Crazy and ridiculous and utterly opulent. The beige carpet was thick underneath her shoes and the furniture shiny and new. Artreal art, not ugly hotel printshung on the walls, illuminated by their own personal spotlights. A pair of sliding doors led off to another “wing” of his suite, and as she stepped into the living room, she chuckled. “Is that a piano?”
“A baby grand for all of your hotel needs,” he agreed, approaching with two small bottles of alcohol in hand. “I personally have never gotten to a hotel room and thought, damn it, where is a piano when you need one, but apparently someone does.”
She laughed again and refused the drink he offered her. “No thanks.”
“You’re not driving back,” he cajoled. “I insist on a cab this late. And I’d be a sad sack if I was a lonely drunk. With you here, I’m not quite so lonely.”
His words warmed her a bit, and she took the tiny bottle of Patron from him, twisting the tiny cap off. He did the same, and held his bottle out to her in a toast. “Bottoms up,” she told him, and then sipped it. The alcohol had a delicious burn to it. She continued to sip it, wandering around the room. “How much does a place like this cost a night?”
“You don’t want to know,” he told her. “Actually, I’m not even sure I know. An assistant handled it for me.”
She headed through the living roomhis freaking hotel room was a mess of roomsand peered out to the balcony. “Oh, wow. This is huge.”
“Shall we go out?” He opened the door and gestured.
And even though Kylie was a bit tired and she knew Cade should head to bed, she went out on the balcony anyhow, because when was she going to ever do this again? The balcony had marble tile, and elegantly maintained potted plants dotted along the railing, interspersed with heavy wooden furniture. The city looked vast from here, and she stared at the view in awe. “This is gorgeous.”
“Isn’t it?” Cade smiled out at the buildings, his golden hair ruffling in the night breeze. He moved to stand beside her, his presence warm. “I have to admit I ask for this room simply because of the balcony.”
“I don’t blame you. This place looks big enough for a party.”
“Kind of sad that it’s just me.” His tone was melancholy, and her heart twinged again.
She lifted her tiny bottle of Patron back to her lips and drained the entire thing in one fell swoop, and her head began to buzz. “I’m sorry.”
“Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?” He gazed out at the Chicago night sky for a moment before turning back to look at her. “None of this was your fault.”
“I know,” she told him, and crossed her arms under her breasts, tucking them close to stay warm. Her thin shirt wasn’t exactly made for evenings outside. “I just wish things would have turned out differently for you. You’re such a good guy.”