Page 71 of Wrong For Me

Rose

This cannot be happening. I refuse to accept it. There’s no way in hell I can possibly be expected to share a room withhimfor six days.

When the hotel clerk informed us about the room mix-up, I nearly lost it. Like, stomping my feet, crying, full-out tantrumlostit. And from the clench in Leo’s jaw, I got the impression he was also struggling to hold onto his patience.

But there doesn’t seem to be another option. It would be unfair to ask Leo to leave the hotel. If he’s here to make contacts and network, he should probably stay at the place where the conference is being held. I might not be the most social person in the world, but even I know that a lot of that kind of stuff will take place in the hotel bar.

Besides, maybe spending a little time together outside of school will be good for us. We’re both competitive when it comes to our studies, both eager to please Dr. Hernandez and try to prove ourselves. Maybe that’s the cause of some of the tension between us. Spending time together in a different setting might be just what we need to finally be friends.

Or I could be completely in denial.

The feeling of foreboding only grows stronger when we get to our room. It’s pretty typical for a fairly upscale hotel like this—two comfortable looking beds, a dresser with a TV, a desk and chair. A small bathroom. And that’s…it. I wasn’t expecting a suite or anything, but standing in the entryway with Leo’s large frame behind me, I can’t help but think that the room looks minuscule. Sharing this room with my sister or one of my cousins would be no big deal. But with Leo? It seems impossible.

“We won’t even be in here much,” Leo points out, like he’s reading my mind, but I’m pretty sure those are nerves coloring his tone.

“True,” I say brightly—too brightly. “Do you, um, have a preference on beds?”

“You pick.”

I bring my bag over to the bed closest to the window. “I’ve always kind of had a thing about hotel room beds,” I say. “Ever since I was little I would have nightmares about bad guys getting me if I slept by the door.”

I’m in full on babble mode, obviously uncomfortable, but I can’t seem to shut my mouth. The tension in this room is unbearable. He takes up too much space, with his broad shoulders and his stupid, gorgeous face. Even with my back to him, I’m highly aware of his presence. It’s either babble like an idiot or do something really dumb—like throw myself at him.

I start to pull things out of my bag. Maybe if I keep my hands occupied I’ll be less likely to try and touch his stupid, warm skin. “So I guess that means I’m sacrificing you to the bad guys,” I say, my laugh shrill and unnatural. “Sorry about that. But—”

“Rose.” I freeze. Somewhere in my rambling, Leo has come up to stand directly behind me, so close I can hear him breathing. “Relax,” he murmurs, voice low and husky in my ear.

Relax. Sure. That would be a hell of a lot easier to do if he wasn’t towering over me, a mere foot away.

Friends. This could help us to be friends,I remind myself. Or, if not friends, at least more civil with each other.

“This is a weird situation, Leo,” I squeak out.

“Look at me.”

I steal myself, then turn. And oh, God, he’s standing so close. Close enough to pick out the little gold flecks in his green eyes. He has the tiniest freckle an inch below his bottom lip and I have a sudden memory of running my tongue across it that night in Lake Tahoe.

“This weekend might be a little awkward,” he begins. His words are calm and logical but his tone is edged with something else, something darker. His gaze darts down to my lips. “We won’t really be in the room much,” he continues, voice nearly a whisper now, clearly distracted as his eyes linger on my mouth. “We can handle it.”

“Right.” But I’m barely paying attention to what we’re saying. We could be speaking gibberish for all I know. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the urge I feel to close the distance between us, brush my lips against his and sink into the desire I see shining in his eyes.

His gaze drift down to my mouth again and I’m fascinated by the way his throat moves as he swallows. And then swallows again. God, I want to kiss him.

“Registration,” he mumbles, and I think he might be as lost in this moment as I am. “Registration should be open now.”

Registration. The conference.Shit.

It all hits me in a rush—realization, fear, guilt. What in the hell am Idoing?I’m practically throwing myself at this guy. This guy who I have to spend the next several months working with. I’m supposed to be here to learn more and help my career, not let myself get distracted by Leo Malone.

“We don’t need to go down together,” I blurt out, taking a step back.

He stills and I press on, once again babbling to cover my awkwardness. “To registration, I mean. Just because we’re from the same school doesn’t mean we’re stuck together, right? I think the itinerary said something about a mixer before the keynote speaker tonight.” I resist the urge to wipe away the sweat I know is forming on my brow. He’s staring at me, face expressionless, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. So I continue with my word vomit. “I know you want to network and since I really, um, don’t, maybe it would be better if we just…you know. Went our own way.”

I finally manage to snap my mouth closed. Leo is staring at me, eyes dark and unreadable. After a moment, he clears his throat and takes a step back, giving my lungs the chance to fill with air—something that felt way too difficult with him standing so close.

“That’s fine.” His voice is so gruff I can’t help but wince. Did I offend him? Why is he so damn hard to read? “I’ll just head down now. Give you a chance to get unpacked.”

“Um.” I swallow. “Thanks. That’s nice of you.”