“Okay. Got it.” The desk clerk’s fingers tapped nervously on the padded desktop, and his gaze darted back to his computer screen. “By the way,” he said almost apologetically. “I’m a huge fan of your work. I studied filmmaking.” He laughed nervously. “And look how that turned out. Anyway, I’m happy for you, dude.” He punched something else into the keyboard, looking anything but happy. He shook his head, eyes squinting as he scanned the screen and scrolled down. Sarah was pretty sure whatever the desk clerk was looking at wasn’t promising, as his lower lip was caught between his teeth and the sheen of sweat on his forehead was now beading. “Okay . . . All our single rooms are booked for the night. Let me just . . .” He pushed back from his desk. “I need to have a word with our manager. One second, please.” The desk clerk held up a finger, eyebrows launched upward as he disappeared through an almost invisible door at a trot. He returned a few moments later beaming from ear to ear. “Have I got a treat for you!” he declared, rubbing his hands together. “Our manager is going to upgrade you to one of our exclusive two-bedroom villas. He was holding it open for a high-roller, but I explained how huge you were, told him what happened. You are going to freak out when you see this place. Three thousand, two hundred square feet of unadulterated luxury, two bedrooms, a living room, three bathrooms, a massage room, your own private pool—”

“No thanks.” Mick plucked his credit card off the desk and snagged the crook of Sarah’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“Mick.” He gave her arm a little tug, but Sarah set in her heels, refusing to budge. “Why in the world—”

“We need separate rooms,” he growled.

“We would have them. Two bedrooms, not to mention all the other stuff.” She turned to the desk clerk. “Thank you so much. That would be absolutely wonderful. So kind of you to arrange that.”

“And doors that lock,” he gritted out.

“Don’t worry,” she said with an airy wave of her hand. “I’m not going to jump you. I’m pooped. Am planning on taking a steaming-hot shower and then crawling into bed.”

“It’s not your self-control I’m concerned about.”