Chapter 59

From my hotel room doorway, I stared at the unexpected visitor. Until today, I'd seen Bob on only two occasions. The first time had been at Zane's party. The second time had been when I'd spotted him standing out on his front lawn, watching as the movers loaded up his stuff.

Both times, he'd looked immaculate, with tailored clothes and a perfect haircut sporting just the right amount of gray at the temples.

Back then, he'd looked like everybody's favorite rich uncle.

Now, he looked like a hobo who'd been turned away at the soup kitchen.

His face was unshaven, and his hair was a mess. He wore dark slacks and a gray dress shirt, but the slacks were rumpled, and the shirt had a dark, damp stain running down the front, like he'd been trying to take a drink and accidentally missed his mouth.

I gave the stain a closer look. Coffee?

Or something stronger?

He said, "Got a minute?"

Startled out of my stupor, I managed to say, "Uh, sure. Bob, right?"

He blinked. "You know me?"

I nodded. "We met at the party. You remember? At Zane's place?"

"Oh. Sorry." He squinted at me for a long moment. "Yeah. You were wearing a red dress, right?"

No. I'd been wearing work clothes and a frilly apron. Obviously, he had me mixed up with someone else, but I didn't have the heart to correct him, so I gave him a reassuring smile and said, "Something like that."

He murmured, "Right, right... Looked great on you, by the way."

"Uh, thanks."

He glanced toward the inside of my hotel room. "Can we talk inside?"

The question caught me off guard. I barely knew the guy. Plus, I had no idea why he was here.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, in spite of the fact that he'd cost me my catering job. No wonder he didn't pay the bill. The way it looked, he could barely afford food for himself.

I gave him an apologetic smile. "I’m really sorry, but I can't have guests in the room. Maybe we can talk out here? Or maybe get a coffee downstairs?"

After all, he looked like he could use it.

He frowned. "Out here's no good. He might see us."

Who on Earth was he talking about? Zane? Teddy? Someone else? I had no idea.

I said, "Sorry, who might see us?"

From somewhere beyond my line of sight, I heard a different voice, lower and harder, say, "Me."

Bob whirled to look and went suddenly pale. A split-second later, he managed a shaky smile. "Heeeey, Zane. How's it going?"

Zane appeared outside my doorway, like he'd just come from somewhere down the corridor. He looked to Bob and replied, "Shitty. Now, get the fuck away from her."

I couldn’t help but flinch. "Actually," I said, "it's fine."

Without so much as a glance in my direction, Zane said, "No. It's not. And stay out of this."

What the hell? "I can't stay out of it," I said. "This is my room."

Zane's mouth tightened. "Not for long."

I wasn't even sure what that meant. Before I could even think to ask, Zane returned his attention to Bob. "You heard me," Zane told him. "Now, find somewhere else to go."

"Like where?" Bob's shoulders slumped. "I was kicked out of my suite."

"Not your suite," Zane corrected. "My suite."

I'd heard this sort of logic before. The last time, I'd found it funny and charming. Now, I was only appalled.

In front of me, Bob was saying, "It was supposed to be mine."

"But it's not," Zane said. "So fuck off."

And there it was – Zane's favorite phrase.

Bob lowered his voice to a pathetic whisper. "Then how about a loan? Or maybe an advance? You know, to tide me over?"

Zane gave Bob a long, cold look. "No. But I can give you some advice."

With obvious reluctance, Bob asked, "What?"

"Get out before I drag you out."

I gave Zane a worried glance. Normally, I would've assumed this was merely a figure of speech. But Zane did have that history.

First the senator, now Bob?

I spoke up. "You know what? I might have a little something."

Both guys turned to look. Bob's expression grew hopeful. "Oh yeah?"

As for Zane, he looked more irritated than ever. "I said to stay out of this."

I glared up at him. "And I said it's fine. Remember?" I looked to Bob and said, "Hang on, okay?"

With the door still open, I turned and dashed into my hotel room. I yanked my purse off the nightstand, dug out my wallet, and pulled out all of my cash.

It wasn't a ton of money, but it would surely be enough for a decent hotel room and maybe even dinner.

I hustled back to Bob and thrust out the bills in his direction. He gave the money a worried look, but made no move to take it.

It was easy to see why. Next to him, Zane loomed large and hostile.

Ignoring Zane, I thrust the bills closer to Bob. "Go on," I urged. "We'll just consider it a loan or something."

Anything to preserve the guy's dignity.

Finally, with a mumbled thanks, Bob took the money, turned, and trudged silently away. Watching him go, I felt a wave of sympathy wash over me. Everything about this felt so incredibly wrong.

I turned angry eyes to Zane. And of course, the look in his eyes was all too familiar. It was the same look I usually saw right before he told someone to fuck off.

Already, he'd said this to Bob. And the way it looked, he was getting ready to say it again.

To me.