She flipped the sign around at the threshold of Flame so that it read CLOSED as her cell phone chimed. A text at one a.m.? Had to be Lorelei. Maybe back from a horrific date and ready to share all the gory details. Lore knew Merina didn’t go to sleep until three, sometimes four. But a glance at the screen showed that it wasn’t her best friend, but an unknown number.
Call me if you’re awake.
“Sorry, creeper,” she said as she pocketed her phone. “I’m not playing this game.” Before she stepped into the lobby, though, her phone chimed again. She dug it out of her pocket.
Reese Crane.
Her heart lifted to her throat. Reese Crane was texting her? He’d ignored her for the last week while she tried not to fret over whether he’d roll a wrecking ball down Rush Street for a surprise hotel smashing, and now he was texting her? She stared at the seven words on her screen as if she might consider responding.
Which of course she wouldn’t.
What if he’d changed his mind about the Van Heusen? About keeping Merina on as manager?
Don’t be ridiculous.
That’s not what he wanted. The man was an arrogant, pompous jerk who didn’t have any reason to contact her unless he wanted to twist the knife. He could call her during normal business hours.
But even as the thought occurred, she didn’t put her phone away. Only bit her lip and continued staring. If something was about to go down with the hotel, or with her job, or if there was a way to prevent things from going south, then she needed to know as soon as possible.
“Everything all right, Ms. Van Heusen?” Arnold asked from the front desk. He’d worked here since she was a little girl. And because she loved the nighttime, and so did he, she had often sneaked down to sit with him while her parents worked instead of stay in bed.
In the end, that memory was what changed her mind. If there was a chance to save their jobs, she owed Arnold and her parents the discomfort of returning Satan Crane’s call.
“Everything’s fine, Arnold. Thanks for asking. I’m making some tea. Can I get you something?”
“I’m good, but thank you.” He grinned, and the wide smile comforted her right to her soul.
“You’re welcome.” Her returning smile faded as she turned back into the bar area and tapped her phone screen.
“Just as I suspected,” Reese answered, his voice a smooth, low timbre.
“Hello to you too,” she grumbled. Arrogant prick. “What is just as you suspected?”
“That you don’t sleep.”
“I sleep, but it’s early.”
“It is.”
There was a gap of silence that stretched, and she let it. He was the one who wanted to talk to her. Let him talk.
“I have a proposal for you, but I’d like to deliver it in person.”
Behind the bar, she rested a clean mug on the surface. “Okay. Well, I’m free Thursday, or—”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“You’re at the hotel, I presume.”
“Yes, but—”
“See you in ten minutes.”
Silence.
She looked at the screen of her phone. Call ended. She frowned, not liking that he didn’t explain. Not liking how she felt as if she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Not liking any of it. Not liking him.
She was a big girl. She could take her medicine. Even if her medicine was a prescription written on a pink slip that she’d be out on her “fantastic ass” by the end of this week.
But she really hoped not.
She pulled the lever on a vat of hot water on the industrial coffeemaker, then dunked a tea bag into her mug and decided to run to the bathroom while it steeped.
A quick check confirmed she was as put together as one could expect at this time of night. Sure her hair had gone a little limp and her skirt and shirt were wrinkled from wear, but her makeup was reasonably intact and she’d brushed her teeth after a late dinner.
Not that she was trying to impress Reese Crane.
By the time five minutes was up, she was tossing the tea bag in the trash, and the revolving hotel door was spinning. Reese stepped in, wearing a dark suit and pale butter-yellow tie. In his pocket was a matching kerchief, and shiny black shoes poked out of sharp pants accentuating thick thighs and, yeah, she’d admit it, a nice ass. He’d made good time.
“Welcome to a real hotel, Crane,” Merina called from the doorway of the bar. “We can talk about your proposal in here.”
He turned to face her, his expression registering surprise that faded quickly into his usual take-charge façade. “Very well.”
His steps were sure and strong, his body moving like it’d been crafted to walk toward a woman. Merina expected Reese to look at home only in his whitewashed hotel with no personality. But he also looked like he belonged in the warmth of the Van Heusen, with its deep, rich woods and tapestry-style chairs. The soft lighting warmed his skin and made the flecks of gold stand out in his facial hair.
He was alarmingly attractive tonight, and she decided to blame that observation on her always-present sleep deprivation.
“How does it feel stepping into a place with soul?” she asked as he followed her in.
“You mean where I’m served milk and cookies rather than aged scotch?”
“We have both.”
“I’ll have a scotch.” With a nod, he moved to the bar.
“Sorry. Bar’s closed.” She wouldn’t allow him to come in here and boss her around. He was on her turf.
For now, anyway.
Glancing at her mug, he looked as if he was weighing his options of whether to argue about the bar being closed or not. He must have decided against it. He said nothing more.
Nothing. Even though he’d called this after-hours meeting.
“Would you like to sit?” May as well start the ball rolling.
His expression turned slightly amused before he nodded. “Sure.”
She led him away from the bar—no way was she propping up on one of those hard wooden seats after the day she’d had—and slid into a booth. He sat across from her, and with half the lights off in the lounge, the seating arrangement felt intimate.
He regarded the bar, his mouth twisting in indecision. Like he was debating on what part of it to tear out first.
“Okay,” Merina interrupted to take his mind off destroying her second favorite room in the hotel. She wrapped her hands around her mug of steaming tea. “What did you need to see me about?”
“A proposal.” His eyes snapped to hers. “I’m willing to let you and your parents keep your jobs and leave the Van Heusen as bohemian as you like.”
It was everything she wanted to hear. Like a miracle had occurred. Had he grown a conscience? Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
He smiled, then said two words that made her go temporarily blind in one eye. “Marry me.”
In all the imaginings she’d ever had about a marriage proposal, absolutely zero of them included billionaires she barely knew. A small, slightly hysterical laugh left her lips.
Reese didn’t flinch.
“Did you just say…” She closed her eyes and pushed the rest from her constricted chest. “Marry you?” Surely not. Surely she’d hallucinated that.