Brazilian's Nine Months' Notice Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Susan Stephens
sir?’
There were dozens of things rampaging behind her eyes that he guessed she would like to say, but not now. He decided to push a little harder to find out what was on her mind. ‘You do know I’m staying on for another few days?’
‘Yes, I heard.’
She had turned back to face him, and again that unsaid something flashed across her face. ‘If there’s something you need to say to me, Emma, just spit it out.’
She looked genuinely shocked for a moment, and then reverted to her role of efficient hotel employee. ‘Just call downstairs when you’re ready to leave, and they’ll have someone come up to collect your luggage.’
‘I think I can manage the cases myself,’ he gritted out. Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, he said, ‘Here...for you.’
‘What’s this?’ She frowned as he held out a twenty.
His patience was exhausted. ‘It’s money, Emma. What does it look like? It’s common practice in the hotel industry to offer money for good service. I’ve had you running up and down for the past couple of days. A tip is customary in Scotland as well as in London, I presume?’
She flinched as he pressed the note into her hand. And then, very slowly and deliberately, she folded it and placed it on the table just inside his door. ‘There are some excellent charities you can give this money to. But I’m not one of them. Have a good day, Senhor Marcelos,’ she added with a cool stare. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.’
She’d changed—too much for him not to be suspicious. He watched with mixed emotions as Emma walked off down the corridor. From wild party girl to considered and efficient chambermaid, who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, was quite a leap. And he didn’t believe it for a minute. Pheromones were still dancing in the air. Round one to Emma, but the battle wasn’t over yet. In London she’d been all fire and passion, but now she was thoughtful and distant. She must know she couldn’t have prevented her parents’ death, so what was eating her?
He didn’t have time to waste thinking about it. He had business meetings stacked up end on end.
Emma remained in his head for the rest of the day—to the point where he cut things short, something he’d never done before, and all because he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to see Emma.
When he arrived and saw her waiting for the elevator as he walked into the lobby, his hunting instincts sharpened. She sensed, rather than saw him, and turned around as he walked towards her. ‘Good evening, Senhor Marcelos. I hope you’ve had a nice day?’
‘A highly successful day, thank you.’
She gave him a look as if to say,
Is there any other kind of day for you?
She was dressed in her chambermaid’s outfit with a kettle in her hand and more towels for another guest. The sight irritated him. They worked her to death here, and he hated the idea of Emma Fane waiting on anyone but him. She’d had such good prospects in London, which she had rejected, thrown away.
Why?
Once they were inside the elevator she didn’t look at him but stared fixedly at the illuminated floor numbers above the door panel as they flashed on and off. Her wildflower scent filled his senses. She was soft and warm. He was big and hard. He radiated cold from the frigid temperature outside, while to his tortured imagination Emma appeared to be surrounded by a cosy if impenetrable glow. She was so tiny compared to him, yet they had fitted together so well, he remembered. His body remembered everything about her—everything that had happened that night. It made her coolness now all the more insulting.
The lift emptied and they were on their own for the last few floors.
‘Come back to London with me, Emma,’ he said as the lift slowed.
She turned to look at him with surprise and raised a brow.
‘Don’t allow the tragedy to destroy your life.’
‘Thank you, but I’m quite capable of handling my own affairs, and I
There were dozens of things rampaging behind her eyes that he guessed she would like to say, but not now. He decided to push a little harder to find out what was on her mind. ‘You do know I’m staying on for another few days?’
‘Yes, I heard.’
She had turned back to face him, and again that unsaid something flashed across her face. ‘If there’s something you need to say to me, Emma, just spit it out.’
She looked genuinely shocked for a moment, and then reverted to her role of efficient hotel employee. ‘Just call downstairs when you’re ready to leave, and they’ll have someone come up to collect your luggage.’
‘I think I can manage the cases myself,’ he gritted out. Digging into the back pocket of his jeans, he said, ‘Here...for you.’
‘What’s this?’ She frowned as he held out a twenty.
His patience was exhausted. ‘It’s money, Emma. What does it look like? It’s common practice in the hotel industry to offer money for good service. I’ve had you running up and down for the past couple of days. A tip is customary in Scotland as well as in London, I presume?’
She flinched as he pressed the note into her hand. And then, very slowly and deliberately, she folded it and placed it on the table just inside his door. ‘There are some excellent charities you can give this money to. But I’m not one of them. Have a good day, Senhor Marcelos,’ she added with a cool stare. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.’
She’d changed—too much for him not to be suspicious. He watched with mixed emotions as Emma walked off down the corridor. From wild party girl to considered and efficient chambermaid, who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, was quite a leap. And he didn’t believe it for a minute. Pheromones were still dancing in the air. Round one to Emma, but the battle wasn’t over yet. In London she’d been all fire and passion, but now she was thoughtful and distant. She must know she couldn’t have prevented her parents’ death, so what was eating her?
He didn’t have time to waste thinking about it. He had business meetings stacked up end on end.
Emma remained in his head for the rest of the day—to the point where he cut things short, something he’d never done before, and all because he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to see Emma.
When he arrived and saw her waiting for the elevator as he walked into the lobby, his hunting instincts sharpened. She sensed, rather than saw him, and turned around as he walked towards her. ‘Good evening, Senhor Marcelos. I hope you’ve had a nice day?’
‘A highly successful day, thank you.’
She gave him a look as if to say,
Is there any other kind of day for you?
She was dressed in her chambermaid’s outfit with a kettle in her hand and more towels for another guest. The sight irritated him. They worked her to death here, and he hated the idea of Emma Fane waiting on anyone but him. She’d had such good prospects in London, which she had rejected, thrown away.
Why?
Once they were inside the elevator she didn’t look at him but stared fixedly at the illuminated floor numbers above the door panel as they flashed on and off. Her wildflower scent filled his senses. She was soft and warm. He was big and hard. He radiated cold from the frigid temperature outside, while to his tortured imagination Emma appeared to be surrounded by a cosy if impenetrable glow. She was so tiny compared to him, yet they had fitted together so well, he remembered. His body remembered everything about her—everything that had happened that night. It made her coolness now all the more insulting.
The lift emptied and they were on their own for the last few floors.
‘Come back to London with me, Emma,’ he said as the lift slowed.
She turned to look at him with surprise and raised a brow.
‘Don’t allow the tragedy to destroy your life.’
‘Thank you, but I’m quite capable of handling my own affairs, and I