“I’m guessing this means our night is over,” he said.

DREW CONSIDERED HIMSELF a pretty easygoing, uncomplicated guy. He wasn’t a slave to fashion. He wore what felt good. When he had an attraction as strong as the one he was currently experiencing toward the robe-clad woman two feet from him (and he knew the feeling was mutual), he acted on it.

He’d like to hurl himself back into Kendall’s warm and dry bed for a while, preferably with her. He understood the word “no.” He also understood he wasn’t going to be able to go outside and grab a cab to get home while commando beneath a stolen Westin Hotels bathrobe. He could call one of his teammates to haul his ass out of here, but again, buck naked in a hotel bathrobe in the middle of a windstorm: The resulting cell phone photos would be trending on Twitter before he made it out of the parking lot.

He tried pulling his jeans on; they were so wet he couldn’t get them over his thighs. She’d vanished into the bathroom.

“Hey, Kendall,” he called out.

She emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were pink with lust, embarrassment, or both. She’d brushed her hair. The faint scent of green apples drifted toward him again. Her mouth was a little swollen from his kisses too. If he started thinking about what she was or was not wearing underneath that bathrobe, he’d have to go stand in a cold shower for a while.

She glanced at the jeans stuck halfway up his thighs. She was having a tough time tearing her eyes away from him.

“I’m guessing you might need something dry to wear,” she said.

He kicked the jeans off and sat down on the couch, tucking the robe around him so he didn’t flash her.

“Maybe you have a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt I could borrow in that suitcase.”

“I have yoga pants and—”

“I’ll take them,” he said.

“They might not fit.”

She was probably half his size. They weren’t going to fit at all, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“I’ll make it work. Don’t they stretch?”

She turned to the soft-sided suitcase on a rack by the dresser. “Let’s see here.” She pulled out a pair of black, short-ish yoga pants and a bright orange racing bra thing. “I’m going to have to find you a T-shirt of some kind. I don’t wear them for yoga. I—”

He reached out to take the yoga pants out of her hand. “I’ll try these first.”

He’d had more than one girlfriend who wore these. The brand fit like a second skin, and whatever it was they were constructed out of clung to a woman’s ass. His ex-girlfriend hadn’t made it to a single yoga class when she’d worn them in front of him. He’d removed them as quickly as possible.

He stuck one foot into the pants. He could at least pull them over his thighs. They covered him to just above his kneecap. He was used to wearing short pants on a football field, so this wasn’t a problem. He’d look like an idiot, but he’d be covered.

A grin crossed Kendall’s face. “Maybe they will fit after all.”

He stuck his other foot in and slowly drew the fabric over his thighs and up to his waist. Surprisingly, there was a limit to spandex. He heard Kendall let out a gasp and glanced up to see even more color spreading over her cheekbones. She swallowed hard.

His package looked massive as he looked down. The fabric outlined every ridge and every contour. The entire city of Bellevue was about to learn he was circumcised. His dick wasn’t calming down anytime soon with soft fabric rubbing against it—soft fabric that held Kendall’s green apple scent. Those tights-wearing ballet guys had nothing on him. Holy shit. The shorter pants were the least of his problems. If he went out like this, he’d get arrested for indecent exposure. He wrapped the robe around himself again.

“This may not work,” he said.

She still regarded him warily, but he saw her lips curve into a reluctant smile. “It seems to be working just fine.”

“So, let me get this straight,” he said. The yoga pants were cutting off his circulation. He wrestled them off himself and shook them out. Suffice it to say he was buying Kendall another pair; he’d stretched them out. She watched him fold them and put the soft bundle on the computer table next to the couch he sat down on. He turned to face her again and took a step in her direction. He stared into her silvery-gray eyes. “You want me. I want you.”

“We can’t do this—”

“We’re consenting adults stuck in a hotel room together.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to act on our every impulse,” she said, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He would never force any woman to be with him, but her body language told him she was wavering. She swayed toward him. He moved a little closer. She still wouldn’t look into his eyes. He reached out for her hand. She didn’t yank it away.

His voice was soft and beguiling. “How are we going to resolve this?” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She still wouldn’t look up at him, and she bit her lower lip.

Her voice was low and unsteady. “We’re not stuck,” she said. “All we have to do is find you some dry clothes. I don’t have a rental car this time, so I’ll ask the front desk to call you a cab.” She dropped his hand, hurried over to the bedside table, and picked up the phone’s handset to make a call.

“Hello. May I talk to housekeeping, please?” she said.

Drew spent the next few minutes listening to Kendall’s side of the conversation, which was increasingly comical. She was polite but persistent. Even a luxury hotel had a problem coming up with clothing that would fit a six foot four, 250-pound linebacker at almost midnight.

“Is it possible to wash and dry his clothing? How long will that take?” She listened to the answer, and the only indicator Drew had that Kendall didn’t like the answer she got was her folded lips. “There has to be some clothing he could wear to get home in. Is there a lost and found? How about an extra employee uniform?” She listened for a moment. “Got it. We’ll take whatever you have, and thank you for the extra effort.” She hung up the phone and turned to Drew again. “They’re sending the manager up with clothes for you, and they’re calling you a cab.”

“Thanks.”

The hotel had superior soundproofing, but he could hear the storm raging outside. The lights flickered. He knew there were generators, so power outage wasn’t really a concern. The power might be out at his house, though.

Kendall gave him a nod. She picked up the abandoned sheet on the floor, shoved the comforter off the bed, and tried to re-spread the sheet. “I can never get these on the first try,” she muttered.

Drew covered the room in a few strides to the opposite side of the bed, grabbing the sheet in both hands and spreading it across again more evenly. “How’s that?”

“Better. Thank you.”

She continued smoothing wrinkles out of the bedding, tucking the sheet in as she went. Drew spread the downy comforter over the top of the smooth sheets and fluffed the pillows. He didn’t typically perform domestic chores on what could still be considered a date, but he liked watching Kendall’s attention to detail. Her brows knit as she straightened the pillows and made sure the comforter was even. She’d be sleeping in the bed alone, but she wanted to make sure she was comfortable.

She glanced up from her painstaking attention to bedding perfection and said, “We need to talk.”

He straightened to his full height and forced himself to smile. There wasn’t an adult anywhere who enjoyed hearing the words “We need to talk,” but he would take whatever was coming like a man.

She brushed hair out of her eyes and shoved her hands inside the pockets of the robe. Kendall’s poised and sophisticated veneer melted away as he saw hesitation and a flash of sadness in her expression.