He reined in a smirk as he tucked his hands behind his head and stared at the stars. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Promise,” she said, sounding eager to learn his secrets.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Originally, we were going to call it The Sock on the Doorknob Hotel.”

Her mouth fell open and she laughed, the kind that must have spread through her whole body as her shoulders shook. “Was The Sex Panther already taken?”

He nodded. “It was. Another option was Bed Barista.”

“Oh, that’s good,” she said, admiringly. “But if that hadn’t worked out, you could have tried the Spork of Love.”

He snapped his fingers as if to say aww shucks. “Or the Tunnel of Chubb.”

She pointed in the direction of the villa. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I did put your sock on the doorknob. I figured it was the best way to let housekeeping know not to disturb.”

“Perfect,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, and everything was in that moment as they returned to who they were before, laughing and loving every minute together.

29

New York, same day . . .

Ethan cursed.

His boss had just put him on notice. Revenues were down at the Victoria Hotels and it was his job to turn this ship around or else. He kicked the side of the desk in frustration. How hard did a man have to work these days? The answer—too hard. He’d been working his ass off for the last two years, and his boss railroaded him on nearly all his ideas to improve their image. And then, the guy took it out on him. Blamed him for lackluster quarters and poor performance. He let out a long stream of air, the frustration thick in his blood.

Things were supposed to be different. He was supposed to be CEO of The Luxe. He’d worked in this business long enough, he had known that hotel inside and out, and he was sure the top job would’ve gone to him.

Instead, Nate Harper had won the gig. Nate was younger by a few years, and it ticked him off that the time he’d put in wasn’t enough to beat out the young hotshot. Ethan hadn’t stayed on at The Luxe after losing that two-man race. That would have been too hard, so he’d sought out a new job, and grabbed the chance here, thinking he could make a difference. But most days he was banging his head against a brick wall.

He sank down in his chair, swiveled around, and stared out the window of his office building in midtown. He wanted something to change the image of Victoria Hotels. Make it more like Victoria’s Secret. Something sexy. Something alluring. Hell, that’s why he’d reached out to Casey Sullivan in the first place, trying to strike a deal with Joy Delivered. Victoria wouldn’t be the first hotel to include pleasure packs in its rooms. Plenty of high-end hotels around the world included anything from shag bags to condoms to feather ticklers to blindfolds, and such perks had been proven to spread positive word of mouth—but he wanted something no one else had. With the way Joy Delivered’s star had risen in recent years, he’d wanted to pair up with that company.