Secrets of a Shoe Addict Read Free

your room.”
    “Of course.” He held a hand out and helped her off her stool. “Send the bottle up, please,” he said to the bartender.
    “You and Piper seem to know each other.”
    He looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. “There you go again. Yeah, Roger and I have worked here for a long time.”
    “Ah.” She hadn’t realized Rod worked there, but she’d already said so many dumb things that she didn’t want to add to it by asking what he did, just in case it was somehow obvious. “How long have you worked here?”
    “The hotel or the town?”
    “Um . . . I . . .”She didn’t really care either way. “The hotel.”
    “Oh, about a year and a half now.”
    Only a twenty-four-year-old could think that was a long time. “You like it?”
    “It allows me to meet beautiful women like
you
. How could I not love it?”
    She could have gotten stuck on that plural—beautiful
women
—but since this wasn’t a real relationship in any sense of the word, she let it slide and just took the compliment. “You’re quite the flatterer.”
    “No, I mean it.” He stopped her and looked her in the eye. “Sincerely.”
    She felt the heat climb into her cheeks. “Thanks.”
    He pushed the elevator button, and they glided upward to a suite on the top floor. One entire wall consisted of windows that overlooked the aurora borealis–like glow of the Las Vegas strip. It was enchanting.
    Loreen was standing in front of the window, looking for the big guitar they always showed in movies, when Rod came up behind her and put his arms around her. “Like it?”
    “I love it. I could look at this view every night for the rest of my life.” As soon as she said the words, Loreen had the horrible feeling that maybe this handsome stranger was a serial killer who was about to murder her, and, though he would be the only one to know, her final words would echo ironically through time.
    There was a knock at the door, and Rod went to get it, murmured some things, and came back into the room with an ice bucket, a bottle, and two champagne flutes.
    As he poured the champagne, Loreen noticed the label: PIPER-HEIDSIECK . Oh, shit. Rod hadn’t been calling the
bartender
Piper; he’d been asking for the champagne.
    But then, like an idiot, she’d proceeded to call the guy “Piper” and, worse, feel really clever doing so.
    Fortunately, Rod seemed to think she was joking, and even said she was adorable. So . . . she’d go with that.
    “That was nice of Piper to send up some more Piper,” she said,knowing it was pathetic, but at the same time at a complete loss about what else to say.
    Rod moved over to Loreen and smoothly took the glass from her hand and set it on the end table by the sofa. “I can’t wait any longer to do this,” he said, then lowered his mouth down onto hers.
    He didn’t give her time to work up some nervousness. He just went for it.
    Never—
never
—had she been kissed like this. Everything in her tingled, from her head right down her spine and into the center of her being. Rod undressed her slowly, so slowly that even the fabric running across her skin felt like a caress.
    He was an expert at touching a woman, pushing buttons she didn’t even know she had, bringing her to the crest of ecstasy over and over again, then backing away just long enough to make her nearly scream with need.
    By the time he finally got down to business, she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
    She couldn’t say how long it lasted. Maybe an hour, maybe five, but the time Loreen spent with Rod was so intense that his abrupt withdrawal at the end of it came as a shock.
    “Oh, shit.”
    It wasn’t exactly the romantic conclusion she was expecting. “What’s wrong?”
    “The fucking rubber broke.”
    “What?”
    “I said the
fucking
—
rubber
—
broke
.” Suddenly Rod sounded like a seven-year-old who’d struck out at bat.
    So much for ol’ Rico Suave.
    But Loreen’s first reaction