Room Service. Jill Shalvis

of the lobby, with its chest-high black marble counters. The wall behind matched, broken only by the neon-pink HUSH blazing in the center.

      The check-in process was handled by a pretty woman wearing a black tux with a pink tie and a friendly smile. “Twelfth floor, same as your friends. Room 1212 for you. It’s got a great view of the city and should have everything you need. Feel free to call us for anything.”

      If only it were that easy. Just call the front desk for Chef Jacob Hill…She took the room key with a wry smile and caught up with Liza and Eric at the elevators.

      Eric held out a beer, lifting it in a toast. “This place is really something. You can actually smell the excitement in the air.”

      Liza inhaled and shrugged.

      Eric laughed. “This place is for people who want a rush, who want to feel cosmopolitan, exotic. I feel it.”

      “Since when did you ever want cosmopolitan, Mr. Beer-on-the-couch-with-the-remote?” Liza asked.

      “Since two women in Erotique practically lapped me up just now.”

      Liza’s eyes fired with temper but she merely inquired, “Erotique?”

      “The bar. You should have seen me in there. Hot stuff, baby.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You should have kept me while you had the chance.”

      “Ha.”

      Appearing happy to have irritated the thorn in his side, Eric smiled at Em. “Here’s to phase two,” he said and lifted his beer in another toast. “To getting our TV chef.”

      Liza nodded. “To Em’s success.”

      “Absolutely.” Eric’s eyes locked on hers and went warm, his smile genuine.

      Liza’s slowly faded.

      “What?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

      Liza shook her head. “Did we just…agree on something?”

      He laughed. “Doubt it.”

      “No, we did.”

      “Mark the calendar,” he said softly. “Hell must have frozen over.”

      “You’re a funny guy.”

      “No, it’s true.” He stepped closer to her. “When we were married, you’d disagree with me no matter what I said. I’d say, ‘honey, the sky is blue,’ and you’d say, ‘nope, it’s light blue. Maybe dark blue. But not just blue, because I wouldn’t want to agree with you on anything, even a frigging color thing.’”

      Liza took a step toward him this time, her body leaning forward. “That’s not what I did.”

      Their noses nearly touched. “Truth hurts, doesn’t it, babe?”

      The two of them were breathing heavily, tension dripping off them in waves, and not all of it anger.

      “Guys,” Em said.

      “You know what’s the matter with you?” Liza asked Eric.

      “No, but I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”

      “Guys?” Em said again.

      “You think you’re God’s gift to women,” Liza said to Eric. “It’s obnoxious.”

      “I’ll try to keep it to myself then,” Eric said lightly. “Thanks.”

      “This was stupid,” Liza said. “Being here, the two of us.”

      “Right. Em, you want to give up on this whole chef search and just use me? Seeing as I’m God’s gift and all? Then we can all go home.”

      “We’re doing this,” Em said. “You guys can do this. Please.”

      Eric looked at Liza. Liza looked back. Both sighed and nodded.

      Em let out a breath. She’d done her research. She was as prepared as it got. They needed Jacob Hill, and she intended to get him.

      Her way.

      As they waited for the elevator doors to open, Liza scoped out a gorgeous man walking through the lobby.

      Eric watched her, eyes shuttered.

      Em sighed, then bent to pet a sleek black cat who’d showed up out of nowhere, wearing a bright pink collar with a tag that read Eartha Kitty. With a purr, Eartha Kitty wound around Em’s ankles until the elevator doors finally opened.

      Em stepped on. The inside was as plush as the rest of the place, lined with mirrors and decorative black steel. As she contemplated the row of glowing pink buttons, the doors began to close—without Liza and Eric, who were facing each other and once again bickering over something or another.

      Fed up, determined to do this with or without them, Em pushed the twelfth-floor button. The doors slid all the way closed, and blessed silence reigned. With a sigh, she leaned back against the mirror, closing her eyes. If Liza and Eric didn’t kill each other by sunset, she’d happily do the deed herself.

      No, better yet, she’d lock them up in one of the rooms here and let them work out their frustrations.

      Unfortunately, Em had no outlet for her frustrations. Most of the men in her life had turned out to be toads. Okay, all of them had turned out to be toads, and though she’d kissed quite a few while looking for her prince, he hadn’t yet showed up.

      Opening her eyes, she caught a glance of herself. Yikes. Hair wild, eyes tired…if a prince showed up today, he’d go running at the sight of her. She closed her eyes again, opening them only when the doors slid back, revealing…the second level?

      How had that happened?

      A man stepped into the elevator. He wore black Levi’s and battered boots, and a black long-sleeved shirt with the pink HUSH logo on his pec. His eyes were covered with mirrored aviator sunglasses, and when he shoved them to the top of his head and looked at Em, her heart stopped. Not because he was drop-dead gorgeous. No, that description felt too neat, too pat, too…GQ. In fact, he was the furthest thing from GQ she’d ever seen.

      He was tall, probably six-four, all tough and rangy and hard-muscled. His hair was cropped extremely short, and was as dark as his fathomless eyes, which were set in a face that could encourage the iciest of women to ache. And that face told the tale that he’d lived every single one of his years as fast and hard as he could.

      Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t appealing. In truth, she couldn’t tear her eyes off him. But she could tell he was the kind of man who would worry his mother, the kind of man who would worry a father with a daughter. He seemed…streetwise, tough as nails, edgy, possibly even dangerous.

      And then he smiled.

      Yeah, big and rough, and most definitely badass. This was a man who’d seen and done things, the sort of man who could walk through a brawl, give as good as he got, and come out unscathed.

      A warrior.

      Em would have sworn her heart gave one last little flutter before it stopped altogether.

      But the most surprising thing was what he said.

      “Good, you’re here.”

      Um…what? Her? Em looked behind her, but they were alone. Me? she mouthed, pointing to herself, nearly swallowing her tongue when he nodded.

      “You.” His voice wasn’t hard and cold, as she might have expected, but quiet and deep, and tinged with a hint of the South, which only added to the ache in her belly.

      What was it about a man with a hint of a slow, Southern drawl?

      Before she could process that thought, or any thought at all actually, he slipped an arm around her and turned to smile at the two women who followed him onto the elevator. “See?” he said to them. “Here she is.”

      Both women were very New York, sleek and