Jack demanded in a loud whisper as Mariah pulled him down the third-floor hallway—past his hotel room and toward hers. “It’s almost midnight.” He gestured to the gaslights that had been extinguished everywhere but the lobby and stairwells. “You saw the look the desk clerk gave us when I asked for our room keys.”“His depraved imaginings are his problem,” she said, unlocking her door and pulling him inside with her. He stood as stiff as a pole, holding his room key in a death grip, while she closed the door and lit the lamp.“A lady doesn’t entertain gentlemen in her room at this late—”“I’m not a lady, remember? I’m a widow who is about to become a ‘wife of convenience’ and a prince’s mistress.” She adjusted the lamp wick so that the room was softly lit, and she swayed toward him as she removed her gloves and let her coat slide down her shoulders. “But how sweet of you to say you find me ‘entertaining.’”He felt a stir of anticipation in his loins and scowled.“I don’t believe I said that.”“I’ve noticed you don’t believe a lot of the things you say.”While he sorted out that comment, she pulled his hat from his hands and replaced it with a pad of paper and a pen taken from her trunk.“What is this?”
