He held up his hands as if to ward off Alexa. "I won't be joining you, obviously."

"Obviously," she echoed. She stared at him incredulously. What the hell was he talking about?

"I'll give you one hundred dollars."

"I am not a sex worker, Mr...." She tried to remember the name the room was registered under. "Mr. Butler," she said. Butler? Darien mentioned the guest was a VIP. The Crofton was owned by the Butler family. Could this man possibly be one of Stephen Butler's sons? "You seem to be confused as to the ... nature of business we do here at the Crofton Regent."

He looked alarm, and moved back a step. "I don't want sex. God, no."

She felt her blood rise to her face. The way he denied having carnal intentions towards her was more than mildly insulting. "I'm not a stripper either."

"I'm not asking you to swing from a pole. Just get into the bed without your clothes. You can close the bedroom door while you undress. I won't look."

"And then?"

"I'll leave the door open, and you'll pretend to be asleep. Fifteen minutes, tops."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

He couldn't possibly be serious. She looked around. "Is anybody else here?" she said. They were alone, as far as she knew, but she wanted to be sure. Somehow the idea of stripping for this hot piece of white meat was not at all unappealing, but if someone else was going to get an eyeful of her ...

"My fiancée will be here in a minute. That's why I need you to hurry."

"Your fiancée." This was getting too weird. "I would think that the last thing anyone would want is for their fiancée to catch them with another woman in their bed..." She frowned. "Is it a woman? Your fiancée, I mean."

"Yes, she's a woman. I have my reasons, Ms..."

"Diaz. Alexa Diaz. And I'll do it—" She paused, and saw his shoulders sag in relief. "For a thousand dollars," she added.

He stared at her in stunned silence. "That's out of the question."

She shrugged. "Okay then. Good night, Mr. Butler." She grabbed the doorknob once again.

"Fine."

She stopped.

"One grand," he said. "If you can get into bed in the next sixty seconds."

She turned around. He called her bluff. One thousand dollars.

Holy shit.

"In cash," she added.

"Of course." He sounded annoyed like it was a mere detail. Inconsequential.

"And you'll need to take your clothes off first."

He looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Because if you're going to pay a woman to strip, you should take your clothes off too." She grinned. "It's only polite. I mean, it's not like you've never been naked—"

He tugged at the towel around his hips.

"... in front of a woman before," she continued, her voice trailing off into a whisper.

There was an utter lack of embarrassment in his expression, only impatience, as he stood in front of her as exposed as the day he was born. As though he was showing her nothing more than a piece of candy.

A really sweet, mouthwatering piece of candy. The kind that makes you wonder when the last time was that you've had candy. Even that candy was nowhere close to being as ... generous and tempting as the one you were looking at right now.

"Uh..." She forced herself to look up at his face, instead of staring at his manhood in all its raw glory. "Okay." She swallowed.

He put the towel back around his waist. "She should be in the elevator by now. Hurry up," he said.

She put the trash bag back into the bin. She ran into the bedroom, then shut the door before quickly stripping down to her panties. Where should she hide her room attendant uniform? If she was going to pretend she just slept with a guest of the hotel — and possibly the son of the man who owned it — it would not be in her best interest for his fiancée to know she worked at that same hotel. She shrugged, and stuffed her uniform and bra under the duvet before getting under it.

The man knocked before opening the bedroom door wide, looking at her to see if she was holding up her end of the deal. She kept the duvet over her chest, and positioned an arm above her in one languid motion.

She resisted the urge to wink at him. This was going to be fun, she thought as she closed her eyes. Or very, very weird.

The doorbell rang.

"Hello, sweetie."

Paige Mansfield's eyes swept up and down Kellan appreciatively. "It's been a long time," she added, in her impeccable English accent. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Despite having just gotten off a twelve-hour flight from London, she looked as fresh as a daisy. Her perfect skin glowed, and her off-white suit was unwrinkled and bright, a creamy contrast against her dark complexion.

"Hello, Paige," he said. . "You didn't say you were coming."

She stepped into the suite and hooked her fingers over the back of his neck. She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek. "Do I need permission to visit my fiancé?" she said.

"A little heads-up would have been nice." He tried to keep his voice steady but he couldn't hide the fact that her kiss flustered him.

"I suppose I must be disturbing you. Busy, are we?" Without waiting for a reply, she sauntered in and glanced around.

"You could say that."

She crossed the room and sat down on a sofa. "Relax, Kellan. I'm not going to make a scene." She threw a casual glance towards the bedroom. "Your friend seems to be having a nice nap, so let's not disturb her."

"That's very considerate of you."

"I'm nothing if not considerate."

"Do you mind if I put on a shirt?"

A playful smile crossed her lips. "I do, actually." Her eyes flickered up and down his naked torso. "But get dressed, if you must."

"Thank you."

After a few moments of indecision, Kellan left the door to leave it open while he put his clothes on.

The girl's eyes remained closed as she lay on his bed. He wondered what she was making of the conversation he was having with Paige. Fortunately, she was a complete stranger, and he was not likely to see her again.

"I take it you just flew in from London?" he said, as he zipped up his jeans. He knew she was in London yesterday — he'd seen a few paparazzi photos on the news — but it was important that she think he was oblivious of her activities.

"I did. I thought it would be a good idea to stay here at the Crofton for a day or so," said Paige. "It's been a while since I was here last, and thought, why not? After all, your hotel and ours are merging soon."

"If I'd known, I'd have gotten a bigger suite." Fully dressed, he came back to find Paige typing something on her phone.

As she looked up, she didn't bother to hide her disappointment that he was now fully clothed. "Oh, no, I wasn't planning on staying with you. I know how you like your ... privacy."

He nodded. It wasn't as though they were ever physical with each other. "Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"Thank you, no." She put her phone back in her purse.

He sat down on a chair across her. "How long will you be in town?"

"A week or so. Which brings me to the reason I came to see you. I'm holding a benefit on Sunday."

"A benefit."

"Yes, one of those long, boring parties you hate. Your father thinks you should be there. You know, as my date. You can invite your rich investors and colleagues. Sip champagne, nibble caviar, and help cure cancer."

"I'll have to check my calendar."

"I understand. No pressure. You can bring your friend if you like."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't mind?"

"No. Your Dad would, however. Do you care?"

"Not particularly. Are you ... bringing a date?"

"I'll be too busy for a date, Kell."

"I take it Everton will be there?"

Paige smiled, eyes lighting up.. "He's very eager to see you, actually. There are rumors about you and your new start-up."

"And he wants to invest?"

"Well, he knows next to nothing about mobile apps and such, but he's bored and wants to try something new. I was hoping you could take him under your wing. Investing in technology for dummy English aristocrats, so to speak."

"I'll do my best."

"So I'll see you Sunday, then?" She got up, and he did the same.

"I'll have my assistant call yours for the details," he said as he walked her to the door.

When he opened it, she stopped and turned to face him. He caught his breath when she rested her hand on his shoulder. She was a mere few inches over five feet, so even though she stood on tiptoes, Kellan had to bend down so she could brush her lips over his.

She smelled like vanilla and jasmine, the way she always did ever since the first time they met that one spring day in London. In his stomach, that same familiar flutter appeared, the one he felt every time she touched him.

"Good night, Paige," he whispered.

"Good night, Kell."

After he closed the door, Kellan made his way to the bedroom. "We're done, Ms. Diaz," he said.

Looking at the woman lying in his bed, it occurred to him that he would have to make sure she would keep confidential everything that had happened tonight — especially her role in it. He was paying her a thousand dollars; surely that would be enough to ensure her confidentiality.

"Alexa?" he said, frowning.

The room attendant who had been pretending to be asleep for the purposes of showing his fiancée he had been on a date that night was still lying still under the duvet, her eyes closed.

"She's gone, Alexa," he said.

She didn't move.

It was with dismay that he realised that the total stranger he had hired to pretend to be his lover had fallen asleep in his bed.

He sighed, and glanced outside the bedroom door. The sofa didn't look very comfortable, or even long enough to fit his frame.

He wondered if he should shake her awake. But the idea of touching this naked stranger made him uncomfortable.

God damn it.