Free The Long Way Home by Tara Brown Page A

“Oh God. France, I can’t stay here, looking like this.”
    He laughed, “We’ll get a personal shopper to grab you things.
These places always have secretarial services. I’ve used it before, on away
games.”
    I thought for a second, “Okay. I know what I like. That
works.” I was excited about getting some things that suited me. I didn’t care
if Phil saw where my credit cards were being used. I wasn’t ready to talk to
him.
    France parked. I pulled my sunglasses on and grabbed my bags
from the backseat. He grabbed my bags from the trunk and handed the keys to the
valet.
    We walked inside. I felt a small sigh of relief, seeing
something more my style again. The hotel was lovely.
    He rented the rooms while I booked a spa treatment and wrote
a list of things I would need from the girl running out for me. She gave me a once-over, but she stopped when she saw France. I looked
at the way she smiled at him and rolled my eyes. He did have a way about him
that was attractive.
    He came over to me and put his hand on the small of my back,
“Let’s go.” He led me away before I even got to thank her. A man’s hand at the
small of my back was a familiar thing. His hand was more than that. The
elevator opened and he led me inside, taking my bags from me.
    “Presidential suite, please.”
    I shot him a look, “You didn’t get two rooms?”
    He shook his head, “Nope.” He led me off the elevator when we
got to the nineteenth floor.
    I followed him to the door. He opened it and held it open for
me. I glared at him.
    “What?”
    “One room?”
    He laughed, “What? We nap in the same car and you always come
and sleep at my place. Besides, it’s a suite. It has two bathrooms. The other suites
were all booked and all that was left were those regular rooms.” He winked, “I
don’t know about you, but I haven’t stayed in a regular room in a long time.”
    I scowled, “You eat from gas stations but you’re picky about
your sleeping quarters?”
    He walked through the sitting room and into the bedroom,
“This is pretty nice.” He flopped onto the bed, “You want to sleep on the bed
or the pullout couch?”
    I looked at the couches, “Same bed—no sexy time, Mike.
I mean it.” I took the second key, “I have a spa appointment for ten minutes
from now. When the shopper drops my stuff off, can you tip her?”
    “Yup.”
    “Admit you’re taking advantage and going to try to have sex,
at least once.”
    He smiled at me, dazzling me with his dark eyes, “Yup.”
    I stomped off.

 
 

Wednesday Night

 
 
    The spa, at least, was amazing. Two hours later, I walked out
in a robe with a polished and massaged body, fresh-smelling skin, and a glowing
face. The facial had been the nicest part. I felt the years and stress melt
off.
    I had almost frowned when they refused my credit card,
stating it was paid for. But I didn’t let him get to me. I took deep breaths
and found my Zen.
    He was gone when I got back upstairs. I was good with that.
    My clothes were laid out on the bed and my makeup and
products were placed on the bathroom counter.
    I took a shower.
    The tears started to leak out again. I closed my eyes,
sliding down the marble wall.
    “Do you always cry in the shower now? You used to like the
shower. What happened to that girl?” he asked from outside the door.
    I jumped up, “No. Why are you in here?” The door was glass. I
kept my hands over my parts. “Get out!” I couldn’t see him.
    “I’m not looking. I just heard you crying and I wanted to
make sure you’re okay.” I slumped back down the wall. His hand slipped inside
the shower door. He dropped a pink bikini. “Put it on.”
    I scowled, “No. You know I don’t wear pink, anyway.”
    “I’m coming in, so you either put it on, or I come in and see
you naked. Not like it would be the first time.”
    I pulled the bathing suit on with an intense amount of work.
Being wet made it harder. He stepped into the shower with swimming shorts