I open the door for the room service attendant who’s dressed in a black tux. He wheels in a cart, gets everything set up on the dining room table near the windows, and even sets a vase of yellow roses in the middle, then takes his leave.

“This is fancy,” Maggie says, eyeing the table. “I feel underdressed.”

“Personally, I think you’re overdressed. I’d rather have you naked.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m not eating naked. I don’t want to spill something hot on my boobs.”

“I tried.” I sigh as if incredibly disappointed and make her laugh.

I uncover the plates and hold the chair out for Maggie.

“Steak?” she asks as she sits and leans over to sniff her plate. “With all of my favorite things.”

“Coincidentally, they’re my favorite things, too, so it works out.”

I sit across from her, ready to dig into the delicious-smelling meal. I’m starving.

“I didn’t even realize I was so hungry,” she admits, echoing my thoughts as she cuts into her steak. “Mm, good.”

She’s right. The steak is tender and practically melts in my mouth. We had a long travel day full of junk food. We need real food and rest so we’re ready to deal with whatever happens tomorrow.

And from what I know about Joey Lemon—and that’s literally everything there is to know about the son of a bitch—anything could happen.

“Oh, God,” Maggie moans as she tries her potatoes. “I don’t know what they put in here, but I need the recipe.”

“Moan like that again, and I’ll have you on this table.” I drink my wine and watch her blink in surprise. “I don’t think you realize how much you turn me on.”

“Because the food is delicious?”

“Because you’re sexy as fuck.”

She swallows, licks her lips, and I see those green eyes have gone smoky with desire. I want her. I always want her.

It never stops.

I eat my dinner, and Maggie follows suit, her eyes still on mine, the sexual tension between us so thick we could cut through it with these steak knives.

When we’ve both finished our meals, I take her hand and lead her to the bedroom.

“I thought we were going for a walk on the beach.” But she doesn’t pull away when I tug her to me and kiss the hell out of her.

“We will.” I kiss her cheek. “After.”

The grin that spreads over her sweet face is more intoxicating than the wine we had with our dinner, and when I nip at her lips, she lightly gasps.

“Everything you do, even when you frustrate the hell out of me, turns me on.”

Maggie snort-laughs. “Yes, I’m sure I’m sexy as all get out when I’m throwing one of my tantrums.”