He winked. "I told you what I want from you."
She gritted her teeth and tried not to imagine what his kiss would taste like. "Somehow, I think there is more to your interest in me, but I don't want to know what it is."
"We all have imaginations."
She sniffed the air as the scent of oak washed through her, and then she swallowed. "What are you plans for the day without me then?"
"I have to go to work, but then I'll get ready at home. I’ll be at your hotel at eight o’clock."
“I’ll meet you downstairs then.” This was the worst idea of her life. Her friends would see her sitting with one of the richest men in the world and think she had gone off the deep end. Her pulse grew fast, though she rolled her shoulders and neck. "I don't know anything about you. This might not be a good idea."
“You know enough, probably more than most people on their first date.” He patted her arm. "So live a little, Belle Jordan."
"I'll figure you out, Peter."
"Not much to analyze."
Her mouth grew moist like she'd ask for a kiss. She hugged her stomach and glanced at the limo door. "You could probably have anyone that crosses your path. We don't make sense."
He tried to meet her gaze, but she avoided him. "Have faith."
"Faith and I aren't exactly on the best terms."
"Let go of being so defensive then."
Tingles grew all over her as she stood near him. She'd beg for that kiss right now if she thought she'd never see him again. This was so out of her element, and she clenched her hands. One dolphin swim didn't change the facts about her or him.
She stiffened her body and nodded. "See you tonight, with or without my armor. I'll decide that later."
"Belle, you are fascinating. I can't wait to see you tonight."
“Find another word to describe me then. I can’t live up to ‘fascinating’ forever.” He saw that she was settled in a limo, and then he went to another one. He hadn't even made a call. His people took care of every detail of his life.
In a daze, she settled into the seat and closed her eyes. This was something she never could have imagined. The white buildings and the smell of the ocean was everywhere. Time must have sped past her. She licked her lips, and the next thing she realized she was at the door of a fancy hotel.
Parrots squawked and repeated words in the trees. This Christmas was so strange. She stepped outside into the bright summer day, though there were pine decorations splattered in corners. The tropical climate with the lined palm trees did not give her the holiday feel, even if they were wrapped with lights.
She crossed her arms to get her bearings as the limo driver said, "The front desk will have your key, miss."
She should give the driver a tip. She dropped her hands and opened her pocketbook to hand him a few dollars. Luckily she had some cash on hand.
She reached to give it to him. "Okay. Here take this."
He waved his arms in front of him. "I get paid more than enough. I'll be here in case you need to go anywhere."
Every cell in her body was awake and scratchy. She swallowed the urge to argue. "Why?"
"Mr. Morgan pays me to drive his guests."
"Of course he does."
She shook her head. Peter was one of the richest men in the world, even she knew that about him.
She coughed, but instead of saying this was a stupid idea, she nodded and said, "Thanks."
This was entirely too much. She walked inside, and the light piano music that wafted in the airy lobby with thick red carpets gave a sense that she had been transported to someplace meant for extraordinary people. She clutched her well-used, slightly shredding pocketbook.
The vaulted ceilings and bright sunlight were not made for ordinary people like her. She blinked and saw a mahogany front desk. Her shoulders slumped, though she marched over to it.
"I'm Belle Jordan."
The clerk in a red suit nodded. "May I see your identification?"
"Of course." At least procedures never changed. This made him almost normal. She handed him her license. The clerk studied it, typed and then handed her an electric card. "Staff will see you shortly, ma'am."
Staff? Peter had said handlers. She'd said yes because of some strange spell she was under that had started with that unexpected swim. Her simple shorts and tee shirt seemed too casual for this place, but her black dress in the plastic bag had obvious signs of water damage. Her hair was extra frizzy from the ocean. She grimaced.
"Thanks. What is the daily rate I'll be paying while I'm here?"
"Your bill is provided for."
Once again, Peter. “Thanks but I’ll pay for myself when I check out.”
"Ma'am?"
She could walk out on principle. He had said he took care of the guests, which must mean he paid for every out of town guest. It might be a Morgan thing. The last wedding she had been in, she had paid for her own bridesmaid dress. This might be how the one percenters lived, though. She hugged her waist.
Perhaps asking him to be her date tonight had been a huge mistake. This was too rich. She wiggled her nose.
"At what cost?"
"Would you like a copy of the bill at check out?"
"Yes. We'll go from there."
The price of how much she'd owe him for eternity. If her never-used credit card wasn't enough, perhaps she could set up a payment plan.
Besides, how would she explain this room to her friends?
"Very good. Anything else, ma'am?"
Perhaps directions on how to get her soul back. "No, thank you."
She squared her posture and marched with the electric key in hand. As she read her room number, she proceeded to the elevator. As she stared at the buttons, she realized she was on the top floor. The penthouse was always the most expensive.
This was far above the wedding guest offer. She pressed the button and rested her head on the wall. More piano music played as the elevator climbed. Her heart seemed to double in beats with every floor. She held her wrists as the ride finally ended and the doors opened.
The floor seemed ordinary, though there was only one door in the small hallway. She took one ginger step. A moment later, she exited the elevator and her phone rang. Emily's number flashed, and Belle answered it.
"You didn't even want to come to this wedding," Em said.
"I remember."
"You skipped out on the party."
"I did."
"And in twenty-four hours, you, my best friend, become an international woman of mystery in all the newspapers."
"What?"
"Why did you ruin your dress?"
Belle picked up the bottom of the dress in the bag. It was still slightly wet and smelled now. "How did you know?"
She opened the door and held her breath as her friend said, "It's in my news feed and what people have asked me. You were apparently seen wearing Peter Morgan's clothes as you left his yacht."
"He took me to dinner, and I fell in the ocean."
"An unlikely story."
"Yet the truth.”