A swift, hard knock at the door made them both jump. Grannie opened it. Keenan took one step inside, controlling both the hallway and the room, his gaze scanning the window, the bed, Rose. He didn’t linger on Rose, which was probably for the best. Even the slightest eye contact sent sparks along tingling nerves in her mouth, her breasts, her sex. He looked at her laptop, then gave her a quick nod she took to mean they’d deal with her phone situation today, if possible. “Ten minutes, ladies,” he said. “Keep your purse or backpack with you, but leave your suitcase outside the door. The concierge will bring them down for you.”
When the door closed, Grannie whisked open the heavy curtains covering the window. The sun peeked over the edge of the Cappadocia hills. “Ten minutes, Rose!” she said, all but bouncing.
“I just need to send this email,” Rose said, relieved by Keenan’s businesslike manner. She wasn’t going to pay for telling him he was better than second best. She didn’t often shove her foot down her throat, into her stomach, but when she did, she did it with gusto and aplomb. Besides, what happened last night wasn’t going to happen again. It was a vacation fling for her, and a who-knew-what for him. Keenan kept things professional, just the way she liked them. After all, weren’t the SEALs called the silent professionals? Perfect. “We’ve got problems with a terminal in California, and the chair of the hiring committee just sent another round of jobs to look over before we post them.”
“Rose,” her grandmother said, shooing her toward the bathroom, “go, go, go!”
Rose went, and emerged nine minutes later, teeth brushed, hair back in a ponytail, a fleece watch cap on her head. She’d made it in nine minutes only because one look at her face told her that, other than some concealer for the bags under her eyes, makeup was unnecessary. The color in her cheeks and her still-swollen mouth gave her all the glow she needed. It wasn’t five hours of sleep so deep she might as well have been unconscious.
No, she owed the color in her face to the frankly incredible sex. She jammed her makeup bag into her suitcase, zipped it shut, and wrestled it out the door, where a waiting bellboy hefted it and headed for the stairs. Her phone, laptop, adapters, and charging cords all went into her shoulder tote. Ushering Grannie ahead of her, she rounded up Marian and Florence and led them down the stairs to the foyer, where Keenan was waiting.
“Our shuttle is that one,” he said, pointing at the small bus parked outside the hotel’s sliding doors. “They’ll take us for breakfast, then out to the balloon launch sites.”
“Our shuttle?” Rose said, surprised. “You’re coming with us?”
He nodded, then lowered his voice. “Jack told me to look after you. I’m looking after you.”
Heat thrummed through her, far too early in a very long day to be anything but a tease. She should lock it down. Instead, she leaned in. “Is that what you call it?”
“My definitions are pretty flexible,” he admitted, a wry smile on his mouth.
“Of course he’s coming. You have to come,” Grannie said. “Seeing Cappadocia from the air is on everyone’s bucket list.”
To his credit, Keenan shut his mouth and said the only thing he could say. “Yes, ma’am.”
They all clambered into the small shuttle bus, which took them along narrow roads. Houses seemed to rise straight out of the soft stone, giving the small villages a tumbled, jumbled look. Yards held goats and chickens, and satellite dishes jutted from roofs. At their destination, a modern building framed incongruously like a Swiss chalet, they jostled among other guests to help themselves to a steaming hot buffet table laden with Turkish breakfast foods. Rose got herself fruit, pastries, and a cup of coffee, then found Grannie and her friends had joined a table of other people their age. Keenan sat at a table for two, his backpack pointedly claiming the other chair.
“Have a seat,” he said, and stood.
He came back a minute later with a plate laden with toast, eggs, a soup that smelled fantastic, fruit, and a cup of hot chocolate.
“I wish,” she said, looking at the cocoa.
“I ran this morning,” he said.
“I’d love to get in a run, but I slept through the alarm,” she said, and sipped her coffee. “Grannie woke me up when she was getting dressed. Good thing I showered before I fell asleep last night.”
It wasn’t easy to look him in the eye, something she found simple enough when dealing with the men she worked with. It wasn’t because she was ashamed, or even cowed by him. It was because he’d seen her vulnerable and out of control, now he saw into her, maybe even saw through her.
“Let me know if you’re going to run,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m not fast,” she said. “If I can run a ten-minute mile, I’m doing well, and that’s on the treadmill.”
He finished chewing an entire flaky pastry with apricot filling, and swallowed. “It’s not a question of speed. It’s a question of safety. Based on your insane schedule, the only time you’ll have to run is before sunrise or after dark. You’re not going alone.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Would Jack let you run alone in a strange country and no cell phone?”
Dammit. “On principle, he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. More pragmatically, no, he wouldn’t,” she admitted as she started to peel her orange.