“You’re a sadistic bastard, you know that?”
Eliza Lyons huffed, annoyed with Craig and annoyed with the damn key card she inserted for the fifth damn time into the slot. Finally she got that green light. With a triumphant sound, she pushed opened the hotel room door and jerked her suitcase behind her.
Naturally, Craig followed.
“For what?” Craig Grant looked entirely too relaxed for the conversation she was about to have with him. Relaxed and smug, she thought as the door banged closed behind him. “For telling you the truth?”
“For taking pleasure in telling me the truth,” she shot back.
As she snapped around to look at Craig, who didn’t seem ready to leave anytime soon, Eliza caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the dresser. Great. Her hair, currently copper, looked like she’d taken style advice from a porcupine. She closed her eyes and reached for a well of sanity she knew had to lurk somewhere inside. With a sigh, she dropped her purse on one of the beds and abandoned her suitcase in the middle of the room.
Digging into a pocket for a hair band, she turned and tried to ignore Craig leaning against the wall. His arms crossed over his ridiculously muscular chest, one eyebrow raised over very dark brown eyes that watched her with amusement, and his dark hair was perfectly styled. No one should look that good.
Not even in the Hamptons.