style="font-size:15px;"> ‘What’s this about?’ she said, a brief stab of concern in her gut as she wondered if he was going to call the police. She hadn’t really broken any laws, had she? Seeing as she hadn’t actually managed to cop a photo. Groping for a way to smooth things over, she wondered if she might be able to charm him into letting her go. It was a long shot at best – he probably had glamorous women throwing themselves at him constantly; he was hardly about to be seduced by boring Anna Clark from the back of beyond. Then again, anything was worth a try.
‘Sit down.’ He nodded at a beige office chair next to the desk.
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
‘Suit yourself.’
Joe sat down behind the dark wood desk and leaned back in his own, larger chair, trying to keep his expression professionally neutral when his libido was zipping hotly into action at the view before him. The pink and grey hotel uniform was definitely not meant to look that sexy. Clearly too small, it hugged her every curve. The A-line skirt was a good couple of inches too short.
He needed to focus. The Betsy Warrender booking was clearly not the top secret that he’d demanded it be. In short, that meant there was a security leak at the hotel, and when he found out who it was, heads would roll.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked. He really couldn’t keep thinking of her as Miss 214.
‘Are you going to call the police?’ she countered.
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