About thirty seconds passed before the door was jerked open.

Yasmin could feel her professional expression slipping as she faced a man who looked like he fell straight out of the pages of a magazine for professional security guards. He wore a black suit, but not an expensive one, and he was absurdly alert for the time of night. An earpiece and a buzz cut finished the look. He even had sunglasses sticking out of his suit jacket pocket.

“Name and business,” he said impatiently, his eyes on something past her shoulder.

“Yasmin Mahdi, room service,” she said just as succinctly as she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Tray, food, uniform. Duh.

“Let her in,” a familiar voice demanded from behind the man.

He stepped aside, allowing Yasmin to pass.

The man from the alley was waiting for her as she rolled the trolley into the room. She’d recognized his voice, but his appearance up close, without the shadows in the alley, was enough to steal her voice and her senses. She stopped short and stared at him for what could only be considered a rude amount of time.

“Uh…” She tried to speak, but it was impossible when faced with the presence of such a man. She totally got why he was ordering room service at 3 AM. Dude probably needed endless snacks to keep up with the men and women who would line up for his eyes alone.

He stood when she entered the room and came around the side of the couch to stand close to her. Too close. The odour of cigar still clung to him, giving the air a faint spicy scent. Up close, he was breathtaking. His frame was thick with muscle, but he was tall enough to carry the extra bulk with ease. His light grey suit was tailored to every part of him in an almost indecent way. She had a quick peek and… yup… his package was nicely outlined by the material.

His hair was clipped short, but slightly longer and styled on top. There was a shadow of coarse dark hair across his jaw, like he needed a shave. His bottom lip was fuller than the top and he had what looked like a permanent frown line between his dark, obsidian eyes. A faint scar slashed down across his lips and another, deeper scar, bisected his left eyebrow. One of his cheeks was pitted with small circular scars. They only enhanced his appearance, giving him a deeply handsome pirate look.

He held his hand up between them and curled two of his fingers and his thumb down to his massive palm, leaving two fingers aloft.

Yasmin frowned, trying to figure out what he was saying. Was he making a peace sign?

“Second meeting,” he said, smirking.

She remembered what she’d said to him in the alley. Three meetings and a person was no longer a stranger. A giggle erupted from her lips.