Tall, Dark_.Westmoreland! - Brenda Jackson [8]
She wondered what Jack Sprat thought of her taste, since she was the one who’d guided him here. Of course, she would pay tonight’s bill, since coming here was her idea. Connections or no connections, this place was her choice and not his, so it would only be fair. The last thing she wanted to do was come off as a thoughtless, high-maintenance woman.
Moments later she stood in front of room 1632. She didn’t have a key and could only assume the door was unlocked. There was only one way to find out. She turned the handle and smiled when it gave way without a problem. She slowly opened the door and stepped into the room. Quickly closing the door, she glanced around, her eyes widening. This had to be a penthouse suite. She hadn’t expected this, wasn’t even sure she would be able to pay for it. She had figured on a regular room, which, though costly, would have been within her budget.
She was paid well, and loved Paris, but eventually she intended to return to the United States. She planned to open an art gallery in a few years, and that took money. Every penny she earned went into her special savings. Her father and brothers had promised to invest in the venture, but she felt that it was her responsibility to come up with the majority of the capital for her gallery. This little tryst was going to cost her. She would have to dip into her savings to pay for this suite. She wondered if just one night with a stranger could possibly be worth the sacrifice.
She crossed the room, drawn to the stately furnishings. She had stayed in nice hotels before, but there was something about a Saxon that took your breath away. Besides the elegant luxury that surrounded you, there was also the personalized service, culinary excellence and other amenities, which she had often heard about, but had yet to experience.
She walked through the sitting area to the bedroom. Her gaze moved from the plush love seat in the room to the bed. The bed was humongous and stately; the covering was soft to the touch. It felt as if you could actually lose yourself under it. The bedcoverings and curtains were done in an elegant red and a single red rose had been placed in the middle of the bed. Very romantic.
The connecting bath was just as stunning, with a huge Jacuzzi tub that sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a wall-to-wall vanity the likes of which she’d never seen in a hotel. Everything was his and hers, and the bathroom was roomy, spacious.
Nervously, she walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.
When she was growing up, people had often said she was spoiled and pampered, and in a way, she had been. Being the only girl in the house had had its advantages. She had been only three years old when her mother left her father, ran off with a married man and destroyed not one, but two families. She would always admire her father for doing what had to be done to hold their family together. He’d worked long and hard hours as a corporate attorney and still had been there for her piano recitals and art shows and her brothers’ Little League games. And one year he had even gotten elected president of the PTA. It hadn’t been easy, and everyone had had to pitch in and help. And she could now admit that her brothers had made it easier for her.
Leaving home for college had been good for her. Against her father’s and brothers’ wishes, she had worked her way through college, refusing the money they would send her. She’d needed to encounter the real world and sink or swim on her own while doing so.
She’d learned how to swim.
She glanced at her watch. Chances were that Jack Sprat was on his way up, so now was not the time to get nervous. She had come on to him at the party, and he had come on to her. They were here because a night