Free Room Service by Vanessa Stark

1
    Natasha Raven sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth.
    Here goes .
    As the hotel doors parted, Natasha’s reflection disappeared along with the polished glass. Though she hadn’t slept a wink in twenty-four hours, somehow her long, curly hair had remained lush and frizz-free, her smart grey suit unwrinkled. Still, Natasha’s stomach contorted into knots as her stilettos clicked and clacked against the glossy cream tiles of the hotel foyer.
    Cool, conditioned air tickled the sweat-dampened strands of Natasha’s hair, bringing forth a groan of relief in her throat. Okay. So there were some benefits to being inside. Peering over one shoulder, she watched as the glass doors came together, shutting out the heat-shimmering streets and the noisy city traffic.
    Locking me in…
    ‘May I take your luggage to your room, Miss Raven?’
    Natasha jumped. Standing before her was a male hotel staffer with an odd, half-suppressed grin upon his lips, as though he was in on some kind of private joke.
    Maybe he knows a fake artist when he sees one .
    She cleared her throat and forced her brows into a frown, hoping to wipe the grin from his shapely lips, but instead it earned her a fully blown smile and a soft shake of his head.
    Her heart stuttered. Perhaps he really did know her secret? But if so, how?
    No. Get a hold of yourself. He’s a stranger. A stranger who likes to grin a lot. That. Is. All .
    Beneath his dark fringe flashed the most vivid blue eyes Natasha had ever seen. Eyes that blatantly roved from her face right down to her nine-inch heels and back up again, causing her pulse to jump in a most erratic manner. Natasha had to fight the urge to run a hand through her hair and wipe the shine from her brow, because there was no way she was going to show an inch of weakness in front of some random, cocky guy. She hadn’t spentthe past month chanting confidence-building affirmations and practicing breathing exercises to crumble only a minute after arriving.
    ‘Your luggage, Miss Raven?’
    ‘Oh, yes. Thank you…’ her eyes skimmed over his name badge, pinned to the crisp white shirt that stretched to cover his broad, muscled chest, ‘…err…J-Jace.’
    ‘My pleasure,’ he said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving hers.
    Natasha’s heart, already racing from the endless cups of coffee she had downed on the red-eye flight, kicked up another gear. Was this guy actually flirting with her? He looked around twenty-five years old — at least ten years younger…
    Get a grip and focus. He probably does this to all the guests .
    Jace cleared his throat, his eyes now on Natasha’s luggage. ‘Are you going to let go of that?’
    With a rush of heat to her cheeks, Natasha loosened the tight grip from the handle of her heavy suitcase and let it drop to the floor with a thud.
    ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, immediately running her fingers through her hair and wiping the back of her hand across her brow.
    Damn .
    Jace tossed the luggage beneath one arm as though it were a mere matchbox.
    ‘I’ll see you later, Miss Raven,’ he called over his shoulder, grinning.
    What on earth just happened? What was that?
    In a sleep-deprived daze, Natasha watched Jace walk away.
    Hmmm… nice arse .
    Pleased with the observation, she gave herself a mental nod. That was more like it. Maybe if she pretended well enough she would eventually feel like the sexy hear-me-roar authoress she was supposed to be.
    A gorgeous, blonde, Amazon-princess at reception checked Natasha in and handed over the key-card to her room. Cold sweat trickled down Natasha’s back when she turned from the reception desk to find a small crowd of women approaching her with slow, measured steps as though she were an exotic creature in the wild. She half expected to hear the hushed tones of David Attenborough in the background.
    A strange and pitiful beast… watch as it cloaks itself in another’s skin to be accepted by the herd...
    The women beamed collective, wide,