Whooping, Devon happy-danced through the bedroom and into the sitting room. She had no idea how long it would take for the heat to kick in, but relief had to come soon. And hot water! She could shower. She could wash and blow-dry her hair. She could—
The jangle of the house phone interrupted her joyous list making. Thinking it was Cal calling from the lobby, she snatched up the receiver.
“Hello?”
A surprised huff was her only response. Maybe it was a repairman, testing the lines without expecting an answer. Someone who didn’t speak English. Swiftly, Devon switched to German.
“Hallo? Ist jemand da?”
“I’m sorry. They must have put me through to the wrong suite.” The voice was female, the accent decidedly American. “I’m trying to reach Cal Logan.”
“This is Mr. Logan’s suite.”
That produced a sharp silence, followed by an even sharper query. “Who is this?”
Uh-oh. Obviously the caller hadn’t expected another woman to answer Cal’s phone. Then again, Devon hadn’t expected to be here at this early hour of the morning answering it. Scrambling to recover, she infused her reply with crisp professionalism.
“This is Devon McShay. I’m Mr. Logan’s travel consultant.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
The sneering comment had Devon gritting her teeth. “May I ask whom I’m speaking to?”
“Alexis St. Germaine.” The reply was as glacial as the ice coating the trees outside. “Mr. Logan’s fiancée.”
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