Michael came up behind her, standing close enough that she could feel his arousal against her backside. He bent to kiss her shoulder, working his way up the column of her neck to her jaw. He tried nudging her face toward him, but she stepped forward and turned around.
"So," she said. "This is a nice room."
"It's even nicer now that you're in it."
She held off a groan. Bear heard that played-out line and was most likely laughing right now.
Michael placed a hand at the base of her spine and pulled her toward him. "So how do you want to do this?"
Spotting a bottle of pinot on the cabinet across the room, she beelined for it. "Why don't we get to know each other a little more first?" She lifted the bottle with a grin.
His expression slipped, showing disappointment, before he recovered. "Sure." He took the bottle from her and opened a drawer by the windows, pulling out an opener and two goblets.
Keeping her distance, she walked the room. He came up behind her and kissed her bare shoulder again, making her jump slightly. A glass of red wine came into view, and she snatched it as if it was her savior.
Michael placed his hand in hers and pulled her with him to the bed. He tugged, and she collapsed next to him, nearly landing in his lap. Scooting a few inches away, she readjusted herself and cleared her throat.
"You seem anxious," Michael said, sliding a thick piece of her hair over her shoulder.
"Not at all." She worked to not recoil from his touch. Michael's fingers were soft and smooth across her skin. He had the hands of a man who crunched numbers all day. There wasn't anything wrong with that, but it wasn't her kind of man. She liked someone who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. A man whose fingers were rough and callused from manual labor. Someone who could handle anything at a moment's notice. No matter the situation. Michael seemed like the type who was really good at calling someone else to do the dirty work.
He deposited his drink on the nearby table, then tried to take her glass from her while leaning his face close to hers.
"Mmmm, this wine is sooo good," she said, gently pulling it back and taking another drink.
His face fell, and he settled next to her, brushing his knuckles down her arm.
"You smell so good," he said, nudging his nose in the crook of her neck. "What perfume are you wearing?"
"None," she said, trying not to notice the fact that he wore way too much. A very distinct scent of sweet vinegar and lemon. It was giving her a headache.
"Oh." He froze. "Well, it must just be the essence of you. I'm addicted to it."
She closed her eyes and held off another groan. Yep, Bear would've heard that generic line, too.
She couldn't stall all night, she knew that. So it was time to put her plan into action. Mission: Get Michael Out of the Room commence.
He continued to root in her neck, so she braced an arm behind her on the bed and leaned away from him. "You know what I could really go for right now?"
"What's that?" Michael smirked with hidden meaning behind the expression.
Definitely not that, buddy.
"A hot shower." She tried to make it sound more sexual than she'd meant. Not the most thought-out plan, but it was something. Hopefully she could keep him in the bathroom long enough to find something incriminating.
His eyes widened slowly, and his smirk turned into a full-watt grin. He was on his feet in seconds, bringing her with him, nearly making her spill her wine. She righted her glass just in time. Thank goodness. That would've been a waste of decent wine.
She lifted her chin as she downed another healthy mouthful of wine, then placed the glass on the table beside his. "Want to get the water ready? I'll be in shortly."
Michael hurried into the bathroom.
Kenna reached into her purse and pulled her phone out, holding it at her side.
"Almost ready?" Michael peered around the doorway.
She walked to the bathroom door and glided a finger down the bridge of his nose. "Go ahead and get in. I'm just getting myself ready for you." His eyes showed impatience before she closed the door. And she winced. Getting herself ready for him? God, this was embarrassing.
Sounds of Michael getting into the shower, then "Ready when you are!"
"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled to herself. "Coming!" she said loud enough for his benefit.
Propping her phone between her shoulder and ear, she whispered, "If you were a bad guy and you wanted to hide something in your hotel room, where would you put it?"
"In the safe," Bear's tense voice came back. "But if he's smart, it's gonna be locked."
Worth a try. She opened the closet and turned the small black handle on the door of the safe. "Yep, locked."
"Check all the drawers and under the bed."
Kenna pulled the drawers open, one by one, and upon finding them empty, she shut them and moved onto the next. She got down on her hands and knees, and using the phone's screen for light, she looked under the bed.
"Nothing," she said. "I don't see anything."
"Luggage," Bear said. "Where's his luggage?"
"Good idea."
She went back to the closet-
"Kenna?" Michael said, and then the shhh of the shower door opening.
Shit!
She pushed the bathroom door open and peeked around with just her shoulder, neck, and head. With her strapless dress, it made it look like she wasn't wearing anything.
"Yeah, stud?"
He had soap in his hair that dripped down the side of his head. Thankfully, the steam in the room saved her from getting a full frontal view of his goods. "There you are. I thought you'd left. Come on in. The water's fine." He waggled his eyebrows.
"Yep," she said. "Just taking off my very slinky, barely there undies." She spun, pulling the door closed behind her.
She rested her back against the door and put the phone back to her ear. Undies? God almighty, what was wrong with her?
"Barely there undies?" Bear said with a smirk in his tone.
"Shut up."
Stepping forward, she slid the closet door open and pulled his luggage out, quickly unzipping the two suitcases to search inside.
Empty.
Empty.
Empty.
Damn it.
"Nothing," she said in a hushed screech, heart racing. "I don't see anything! It's not here!"
"Your assignment's over," Bear said. "Get the hell out of there. Now."
"But-" Kenna hesitated to do another sweep of the room. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She must have missed something. The items had to be here. This might be her last chance. She had to-
"Kenna?" Michael said. "Kenna, come on. I'm getting all pruney."
Right. Time to go.
"I'm sorry, Michael," she shouted as she passed the bathroom. "You're nice, but I can't do this!"
She ripped the entry door open and dashed down the hallway toward the elevators.
Once the gold doors opened, she threw herself inside and wilted against the wall, waiting for the quick jolt of gravity. Despair hit her sharp and fast. That sham was for nothing. And despite the fact that Michael had sex on the mind, he still seemed like a genuinely okay guy. A bit ordinary in his advances, but she couldn't hold that against him. He was decent. Deep down she knew Michael wasn't the thief. So now she felt doubly bad for thinking he was and for leading him on when she'd had no intention of going through with it.
She was no closer to finding her mom's ring than she was before.
Despair gave way to helplessness, which quickly morphed into anger. If she couldn't control getting her ring back, she needed to blame someone for it. And the easiest target at the moment was the man who caused her to lose the ring in the first place. The man she was starting to have feelings for again. Starting to trust again.
Trust. Trust wasn't something she freely gave anymore. Bryan had shown her how detrimental it could be. When she relinquished control, when she gave him the reins and let him guide her future, she ended up with nothing but disappointment and a broken heart.
If Bryan had come home all those years ago like he'd promised, that ring would've been safely on her finger and unavailable to steal. Sure, it wouldn't have stopped Claire's watch or Estelle's brooch from being taken, but at least Kenna could help find those items with a clearer head.
Instead, Claire and Estelle would lose out anyway. And Kenna would have to leave this island without her most precious piece of jewelry-the final goodbye to not only her late mother, but also to Bear.
He'd done this to her.
…
Tyke paced the carpet in his suite, waiting for the sound of Kenna approaching. He'd opened the door twice already and looked down the hall. He continued pacing. Walked out onto the patio, gazed out at the ocean, listened to the sound of the waves crashing, then came back in and paced some more.
His room was on the ninth floor; Michael's room was on the sixth. The wait for her to travel three floors was excruciating. The image of her in another man's room-making sexual promises, no matter how fake-was more than he could process. Thinking about Michael touching her. His lips on her. Tyke had heard more lips smacking onto skin than he cared to.