A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [5]
“You’re ready to fix me up with her, aren’t you?”
“Hell, no, I’m not!” Mario veered sharply around a parked van. “She needs some help looking for a job, that’s all.”
“Yeah, sure. Listen, Mario, thanks, but no thanks. I know this is your mission in life, but I have no interest in getting taped to your dash. Forget it.”
“But I only thought—”
“Nope. Nix. Nyet. Non. Negative. Not going there, Mario. You’d better dig deep in your Bag o’ Bachelors and come up with another candidate, because I’m so not meeting the woman you picked up at the airport.”
“How can you make a statement like that? Sheesh. And I didn’t even tell you about the tuna!”
CHAPTER TWO
THE PEARSON HOTEL LOBBY wasn’t much bigger than Hannah’s living room back in Phoenix, and there were exactly two armchairs available. She probably should have guessed that her room wouldn’t be ready at eight-thirty in the morning, but she hadn’t spent much of her life in hotels and wasn’t totally familiar with the routine.
Both lobby chairs were occupied, one by an elderly man reading a newspaper and the other by a young woman filling out a job application. So Hannah stood, being careful not to jostle her duct-taped suitcase. The desk clerk had offered to keep the suitcase in a storage room, but Hannah was afraid it wouldn’t survive being manhandled by a bellhop. She hadn’t seen a bellhop, but this was a New York City hotel, so there had to be a bellhop somewhere on the premises.
Well, this was awkward. The desk clerk had predicted it might be another hour or two before a room became available. She could feel the hum of the city just beyond that lobby door, and she was desperate to get out there and take her first New York City walk.
On the drive in she’d spotted some homeless people who probably could use her tuna. At this point she could use some of that tuna, herself. The peanuts and Coke she’d had on the airplane had worn off quite a while ago. But she had no can opener and she’d also promised herself a hot pretzel from a street vendor once she hit the pavement.
The lobby door opened and she turned to see if it might be the bellhop returning from a coffee break. Whoops, not a bellhop. Not even close to being a bellhop. Instead she was eyeball to eyeball with a gorgeous specimen of New York manhood tricked out in a crisp gray suit, power tie in red-and-gray stripes, and a shirt that looked white at first but upon closer inspection displayed fine vertical lines of gray running through the fabric.
She wondered if he’d dressed to match his eyes, which were the color of campfire smoke. Add to that a movie-idol smile and wavy brown hair. If this guy was staying at the Pearson, she had definitely picked the right hotel.
His gaze moved from her face to the duct-taped suitcase at her feet. “You’re Hannah.”
Her mind clicked rapidly through the possibilities. She only knew one person in New York, and that was the man who had duct-taped her suitcase. He’d promised to mention her to his friend. She wished he’d left out the part about the duct tape.
She swallowed. “And you’re Zach.”
“Right.” He held out his hand. “Zach Evans.”
“Hannah Robertson.” She shook hands with what she hoped was the right amount of firm, businesslike pressure. He was so delectable that she wanted to hang on a while longer, but she didn’t dare. She was supposed to network with this Adonis, not jump his bones.
“I called the hotel and they said you weren’t registered. That got me worried, so I decided to come over and make sure you were okay.”
Hannah’s faith in the desk clerk slipped a notch. They darned well knew she was standing in the lobby. “I tried to register. The room wasn’t ready.” Surely the desk clerk could have said she was here, couldn’t he? Maybe not. She didn’t know New York City hotel procedure.
Zach glanced around the small lobby. “So you’re kind of stuck.”
“Oh, not at all! I was just about to ask them to store my suitcase so I could leave the hotel and explore the city.” To hell with the suitcase and the potential for tuna cans all over the storage room. She was not