Chapter 12

Twelve

Harlowe

Istared at the gaudy decor of the honeymoon suite. This day had gone from bad to worse to hellacious. And now I was stuck sleeping in a room where red satin came to die.

Roc stepped into the room behind me dragging my rollaboard and closed the door. “Now do you wish to tell me why you told that man we were married?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I rubbed a hand across my forehead and hoped this wouldn’t give me premature wrinkles. I was too young to start Botox. “We’re in the country. This isn’t LA. This isn’t even the 21st century if the decor is any indication. It’s not the time to get hung up on honesty, especially if we want to sleep somewhere tonight.”

Roc grumbled something about being able to convince the man. I glanced at his hulking form. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you could have scared the guy into giving us the room. But maybe we would have ended up with one person sleeping outside.”

“I could sleep outside.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just because you’re my bodyguard doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice yourself. I’m sure you’re as wiped as I am.”

He hefted my small suitcase onto the tufted stool fronting a glossy, white vanity. “I will let them know we won’t make it to the airfield on time.”

Roc tapped on his phone before pressing it to his ear and talking low. My phone was off, and I’d made a point not to check my messages. I knew my agent had probably left a zillion, each one reminding me how crucial the shoot was and nudging me to sign the new contract. He could stay on ‘unread’ until I was ready.

I barely registered Roc’s words as he explained our delay, answered questions, and offered apologies. I should care that I was late to my shoot, but I was having a hard time summoning the energy to worry about something as frivolous as a movie after surviving an emergency landing.

When we’d been going down, lots of thoughts and images had flashed through my mind, but none had been about the show I starred in or the costar I’d dated. Even though our relationship had been dramatic and intense, he hadn’t even merited a single thought as my brain had focused on memories with my family and even time spent with Roc.

I didn’t want to think about what that meant, although I knew one thing for sure. Breaking up with Zander hadn’t been a mistake. It had been the best decision I’d made since I’d started acting.

I flopped onto the bed, laying on my back and peering up as Roc wrapped up his call. The mirror on the ceiling was warped, but even so, my hair was a frizzy mess and my mascara had created dark smudges under my eyes. “Do I really look like a drunk raccoon?”

Roc set his phone on the vanity and shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched me. “I’ve never seen a drunk raccoon, but I’m pretty sure you don’t look like one.”

I pointed to the mirror. “You aren’t seeing what I’m seeing.”

He craned his head and tipped it to the ceiling, but I patted the bed beside me. “No way am I going to be the only one to suffer this mirror’s insults. You have to lie down and look up to get the full effect.” Roc hesitated, and I laughed at his severe expression. “I promise I won’t bite. Besides, we’re married, remember?”

He let out a guttural sound, but he lowered himself to the bed and rolled onto his back, even though he stayed as far away from me as possible while not falling off the bed. I looked up at his reflection, which only made him look bigger.

“Well, that’s not fair.” I swatted him. “How is it that you still look great, and I look like I’ve been through a tumble-dry cycle?”

“You do not look like that.” He met my eyes in the mirror. “I cannot imagine that you ever look less than beautiful.”

I turned my head to narrow my eyes at him. “I thought orcs had excellent vision.”

He twisted his head to meet my gaze. “We do.”

Heat pulsed through me as he held my gaze, and I was suddenly all too aware that we were lying on a bed of red satin beneath a heart-shaped mirror in a honeymoon suite—alone. My fingertips buzzed with the irrational urge to reach for his hand, but I forced myself to make a fist and jerk my head back to center. Even in the distorted mirror, my cheeks looked mottled and flushed.

“Despite your clear vision issues or pathological lying problem, I look like hell, and I’m starving.” As soon as I mentioned hunger, my stomach rumbled as if to hammer home my point. “Should we order food and then take turns in the shower?”

Roc stood up quickly, causing the bed to jolt. “You should shower. I can go retrieve the food from the diner.”

I propped myself on my elbows. “The guy at the front said they would deliver.”

Roc slid his gaze to the suite’s bathroom, which was connected by an arched doorway but no door. Inside I spotted a round tub as red as the satin sheets and a shower with frosted glass doors within full view of the room. Not a tremendous amount of privacy, I realized, as I swallowed hard. It wouldn’t be an issue if we were a pair of newlyweds. But we weren’t.

“I don’t mind the walk.” Roc didn’t meet my eyes as he strode to the door. “You should enjoy the shower while I’m gone.”

I appreciated him respecting my modesty, but the way he averted his eyes made me wonder if maybe he didn’t find human women attractive. He was going way out of his way to avoid seeing me in any state of undress. I was all for chivalry, but was his reaction more than that? I was surprised to realize how disappointed I was at that idea.

Get a grip, Harlowe. He’s your bodyguard, and he’s a total professional, which is why he’s being so discreet.

I was the one who was having all kinds of inappropriate thoughts about Roc. Thoughts I needed to rein in if we were going to be spending the night together in this not-at-all-sexy, sexed-up suite.

He opened the door and stepped out into the night, but before he pulled the door behind him, I called out his name. He hesitated, his body tensing before he glanced back at me. “It has to be this way, Harlowe.”

What? I slid to the edge of the bed so my legs could hang off. What was he talking about? Did he know what I’d been thinking?

Impossible. There was no way in hell he had any idea that he’d been the subject of my fantasies for years. No way he could know that I was telling myself to keep things professional. No way he meant anything by his odd statement.

“Oookaaay,” I said, “but don’t you need to know what I want to eat?”