One Final Step. Stephanie Doyle

the urge to peek around the corner, Madeleine held still, careful not to move the bucket and rattle the melting ice.

      “You really don’t want me. I mean, wow. I figured you were playing hard to get, but you’re not…hard… anything.”

      Madeleine had a strong suspicion where Charlene’s touch had landed. Awfully bold considering they were in a hallway where anyone could come by with a bucket of ice in her hands.

      “Charlene, it’s been a long day. I have a longer day tomorrow. I don’t mean to be rude, but no, I’m simply not interested in what you’re offering.”

      “That’s a first.”

      “No man has ever told you no?”

      A harsh laugh echoed around the corridor. “I’ve never had to ask to be told no. I think it’s what made you so intriguing. You were the first man I ever dated who didn’t immediately try to get me into bed. Now I get it. You’re not into me. The question remains, why ask me out?”

      “I told you. I’m tired…”

      “Don’t give me tired. I can make a tired man sit back on his haunches and beg like a puppy if I want. You’re not gay, are you?”

      Madeleine had to choke back the abrupt “no” that wanted to shoot out of her mouth. Michael Langdon, for whatever reason, was not interested in Charlene Merritt but he was decidedly not gay. There was a way he watched her when they worked together. A way his eyes followed her movements, from picking up a pen she’d dropped to crossing her legs.

      No gay man would be as fascinated by the female body. Madeleine sensed it in her gut.

      “I’m not gay, Charlene. I am through with this conversation, though. I’ve enjoyed our time together and I appreciate you coming out here on such short notice. Some other time.”

      “Okay. Sorry. I had to ask. Some other time.”

      “I’ll call you.”

      “Right.”

      Charlene’s skepticism wasn’t misplaced. Madeleine didn’t think he had any intention of calling her, either. She heard a key card slide into the door and a second later she heard the door close.

      It would take him maybe two or three more seconds to turn and head back to the elevators around the corner and out of sight. She gave him an extra second beyond that, and then Madeleine turned the corner only to find him still standing outside Charlene’s door.

      Her faint gasp gave her away. He looked up and instantly frowned.

      “How long have you been standing there?”

      “I, uh, I went to get some ice. What are you doing here?”

      Michael walked to her and she didn’t have the sense to run. He glanced down into her bucket and saw the glimmering sheen of ice beginning to melt.

      “You heard everything.”

      “I…” Madeleine’s shoulders dropped. There really was no point in lying. “I was coming back and heard you two. I didn’t realize she was in the suite next to mine. I didn’t want to…interrupt.”

      “I didn’t realize she was in the suite next to yours, either. Is that your room…1022?”

      “Yes.”

      “Does it have a minibar?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good thing you brought ice. Where is your key?”

      Madeleine handed it over without thinking. Michael took the key and efficiently swiped it through the holder. The green light appeared and he opened the door. Madeleine had no choice but to follow.

      He didn’t speak or offer any excuses for barging into her hotel room. Instead he tossed the tuxedo jacket he’d been holding over his shoulder onto the couch and crouched down in front of the minibar.

      He pulled out two bottles of Jack Daniel’s.

      “Want anything?”

      “No.”

      “Don’t drink?”

      “Don’t drink with clients.” Another of the many rules she’d constructed after her fall. Always be professional. Always maintain a certain level of distance. No drinking or socializing. No casual dress.

      Madeleine looked down at her fuzzy socks. So much for rules tonight.

      “I’ll have mineral water.”

      “Come on, Madeleine, don’t make me drink alone. I promise I’ll never tell.” He pulled out a mini Chardonnay and handed it to her.

      For a moment she hesitated. And part of her knew what the problem was. She wanted to take the damn wine. She wanted to sit with him and recap how the event went. She wanted to know what happened with Charlene and why he didn’t seem interested.

      She wanted to be with him for a time.

      For that reason alone she should refuse the wine and politely ask him to leave. But doing so might make her seem a little ridiculous in this situation. He was in her hotel room, she was wearing socks. One glass of wine wasn’t going to kill her. Surely a woman in full control of herself could break her own rules occasionally without there being consequences.

      She hoped so.

      “Okay.” She turned over two clean glasses and handed him one. He added ice to his drink and then sat on the couch. She chose the chair across from him.

      “Want to tell me what you’re doing here?” Madeleine asked.

      “Having a drink.”

      “I thought you were tired and worried about your early flight.”

      “Since our flight doesn’t leave until noon you know that’s a bald-faced lie.”

      Madeleine fidgeted a little as she sipped her wine. Unthinkingly she brought up her legs and tucked them under her butt. When she looked back to Michael she could see even that simple movement fascinated him.

      His eyes were also trying very hard not to look at her chest. She had a tank top on but she was most definitely braless.

      “Look, I’m sorry if I pushed you toward her. I thought you liked her.”

      “I did like her. I just didn’t want to have sex with her.”

      “Why?” The question popped out before she could stop it. It was far too personal. His eyebrows arched up as if to suggest he agreed. But for some reason she wanted an answer. “You heard her. She can make a tired man beg like a puppy.”

      “Maybe I have more discerning tastes.” He drank his whiskey in one gulp then opened the second bottle and splashed it over the ice.

      “A playboy with discerning tastes. Those two things usually don’t go together.” Like a lot of things about him, the pieces didn’t fit. Madeleine knew all about constructing an image and it was becoming evident that Michael’s playboy image was as real as his environmental-philanthropist cover.

      “What do you want? What answer are you looking for here? She didn’t do it for me. She didn’t make my dick hard. I can’t make it any plainer than that.”

      Madeleine winced. Not so much at his harsh language but at the anger she heard in his tone. She didn’t know who he was directing his anger toward and she really didn’t care. The last thing she wanted to be talking about was sex. Especially with him.

      “I didn’t mean anything. Truly. We shouldn’t be having this conversation, anyway. It’s way too personal.”

      “Eff that. What is it with you and the whole no crossing lines? We’re people. We’re talking. It’s personal. With you everything has a rule.”

      She snorted. “You really have to ask