Get Lucky by Lorie O'Clare

rolled over in bed when the phone in the room rang a second time. He fumbled with the receiver, rubbed his eyes, and propped himself up on an elbow.
    “Hello,” he grumbled, wondering what time it was.
    “You sound good when you first wake up.” London’s soft, sultry tone in his ear brought his dick to full attention.
    “I was just dreaming about you,” he said, falling back on his pillows. “And trust me, if it had been anyone else on the other end of the line I probably would have chewed them out for interrupting us.”
    Her laughter sounded just as good. “Well, I’m sorry to break up the party. You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” she added, sounding cheerful and relaxed.
    He could see her in his head and knew her well enough after just under two weeks to know no one else was around. Her professional tone was flat, friendly sounding but lacking the sensuality and smooth, sexy sound he was enjoying right now.
    “I would love to do more than just tell you about it.” It was an invitation, if she would take the bait. The moment of silence that followed encouraged him. She was thinking about it. “So did you miss me so much you had to call? What time is it anyway?”
    “It’s ten o’clock.”
    “Oh crap!” Marc sat up and tossed the covers off him.
    “I didn’t know you slept this late.”
    “I don’t, usually. It was a late night last night.”
    “Oh really? What did you do?” she asked.
    He’d driven around in town a lot longer than he should have fighting the urge to show up over at her house. “I went out to eat and did a bit of shopping,” he told her, which was also all true. Instead of heading back to the lodge afterward, he’d gone by her house.
    “Sounds fun,” she told him, a bit of her cheerful tone fading.
    Had she wanted to see him? Did she need him again as much as he wanted her? Their first time fucking had been so damn intense it hardly qualified as friends with benefits and sure as hell outrated a one-night stand. Marc hated admitting he was in a predicament he hadn’t seen coming and wasn’t sure how to play it out properly. It would be too easy to get seriously involved with London, and although giving her space seemed the logical answer, doing it was proving harder than he thought.
    “I was alone,” he added, not sure why he told her that but sensing she wanted to hear it.
    “Do you like going out by yourself?” she asked.
    He’d guessed right. That cheerful, almost flirtatious tone returned in her voice.
    “I’d much rather go out with you.” He was at a disadvantage. His brain was still foggy from sleep. If he were more clearheaded he was sure he would give better responses, keep the conversation light, maybe even playful. Instead he was dropping hard-core honesty on her. “I want to see you again,” he added, doing it again. Maybe caffeine would help.
    “Sounds great.” Her professional tone—someone was at the counter. “Oh, and there is a delivery here for you. It’s at the front desk and you can pick it up when it’s convenient for you.”
    “You won’t bring it up to me?” he asked.
    There was a slight pause. They both knew upon request guests could have almost anything brought to their rooms. London had already told him she wouldn’t enter his room. Marc knew he’d just put her on the spot and decided to wait out her hesitation to see what she would say.
    “Of course,” she finally conceded. “I’ll bring it up shortly.”
    “Give me fifteen minutes. I want to be freshly showered when you get here. Unless of course you’d like to join me and scrub my back.”
    He could have sworn she groaned. Smiling as he pictured her facing another guest and trying her damnedest to retain her professional composure, Marc felt no remorse as he stood next to his bed naked and stretched.
    “As you wish. Thank you, Marc.” She hung up on him without allowing him time to respond.
    He wasn’t sure which sounded better, coming up in fifteen minutes