every
thought and emotion harkening back to the last time she’d been in a hotel room,
the last time someone had knocked on her door. What if…? No, the idea that
first struck her was absolutely ludicrous. Impossible! Maybe it was
housekeeping, checking to see if she wanted her bed turned down. At one o’clock
in the morning?
She looked through the peephole and took a sharp,
painful breath. This was a crazy dream; this couldn’t possibly be real…
He knocked again, louder.
With nerveless fingers, she slowly unlocked and
opened the door.
“Hello….Joan.”
She was unable to speak, unable to breathe,
entrapped by his piercing blue glare. Blackness crept into her peripheral
vision as though she had blinders on. She swayed in her heels as her knees gave
out on her. She pitched forward, dimly aware of him speaking, but his voice was
drowned out by the thundering heartbeat in her ears. The last thing she
remembered was being caught up in his strong arms, held close to his rock-solid
chest before everything faded to black.
3
Rough-soft fingertips
lightly brushing across her forehead and along her temple drew her slowly back
into awareness. She opened her eyes, blinking groggily as his face gradually
came into focus. His expression was stern with worry as he gazed down at her.
“Welcome back,” he said in a gravelly voice.
She swallowed, her voice sounding just as raspy
when she was finally able to form a coherent sentence. “This isn’t a dream?”
His fingers grazed along her cheek as a corner of
his mouth quirked in a helpless smile. “No, it’s not a dream. How do you feel?
Would you like some water?”
She nodded.
She watched him as he walked towards the
bathroom. He was dressed casually in a long-sleeved burgundy shirt over dark
blue jeans, the expensive kind. As he moved away she realized that she was
lying on the bed. He’d removed her shoes. She scooted upright and leaned
against the headboard. The neckline of her dress sagged, revealing her
cleavage. Blushing, she tugged the fabric up.
“I had to unzip your dress,” he said, coming back
from the bathroom with a plastic cup in his hand. “You were struggling to
breathe.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed at her hip and
offered the cup. She was shaking so badly she had to use both hands to raise it
to her lips. Her eyes stayed locked with his as she took a few small sips of
water before handing the cup back to him.
He set it on the nightstand. For a long moment he
said nothing, only observed her through half-hooded eyes, his demeanor seemingly
calm. Finally, he said, “It’s a good thing I decided to see you tonight instead
of in my office in the morning. I didn’t realize my showing up here would be so
shocking to you.”
She brought her hand to her throat. “You’re…
you’re Jason Armitage.”
“Yes. I thought you knew.”
She frowned. “How could I have known that?”
“My first reaction when I saw your television ad
was that it’d all been a set up. That you knew who I was six months ago and you
were using our night together to gain some kind of leverage over me.” He raised
his hand at her gasp of denial. “Asinine, I know. I realized as soon as you
opened the door that you’d never expected to see me again.”
“I had a strange feeling when I saw the room
number,” she whispered. “But I just couldn’t believe that it was anything but
coincidence. What are the chances?”
“Three hundred million to one would be a guess.”
His eyes gleamed with a peculiar light. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns
in all the world…”
She hesitated. “You’re not angry with me, then?”
“No.”
“I’ve never fainted before. How long was I out?”
“Just five minutes or so. How do you feel now?”
“A little woozy.” She clenched and unclenched her
hands, trying to still their trembling. “I still feel like I’m in some kind of
crazy dream. It’s really you sitting there…”
He clasped her bare leg
thought and emotion harkening back to the last time she’d been in a hotel room,
the last time someone had knocked on her door. What if…? No, the idea that
first struck her was absolutely ludicrous. Impossible! Maybe it was
housekeeping, checking to see if she wanted her bed turned down. At one o’clock
in the morning?
She looked through the peephole and took a sharp,
painful breath. This was a crazy dream; this couldn’t possibly be real…
He knocked again, louder.
With nerveless fingers, she slowly unlocked and
opened the door.
“Hello….Joan.”
She was unable to speak, unable to breathe,
entrapped by his piercing blue glare. Blackness crept into her peripheral
vision as though she had blinders on. She swayed in her heels as her knees gave
out on her. She pitched forward, dimly aware of him speaking, but his voice was
drowned out by the thundering heartbeat in her ears. The last thing she
remembered was being caught up in his strong arms, held close to his rock-solid
chest before everything faded to black.
3
Rough-soft fingertips
lightly brushing across her forehead and along her temple drew her slowly back
into awareness. She opened her eyes, blinking groggily as his face gradually
came into focus. His expression was stern with worry as he gazed down at her.
“Welcome back,” he said in a gravelly voice.
She swallowed, her voice sounding just as raspy
when she was finally able to form a coherent sentence. “This isn’t a dream?”
His fingers grazed along her cheek as a corner of
his mouth quirked in a helpless smile. “No, it’s not a dream. How do you feel?
Would you like some water?”
She nodded.
She watched him as he walked towards the
bathroom. He was dressed casually in a long-sleeved burgundy shirt over dark
blue jeans, the expensive kind. As he moved away she realized that she was
lying on the bed. He’d removed her shoes. She scooted upright and leaned
against the headboard. The neckline of her dress sagged, revealing her
cleavage. Blushing, she tugged the fabric up.
“I had to unzip your dress,” he said, coming back
from the bathroom with a plastic cup in his hand. “You were struggling to
breathe.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed at her hip and
offered the cup. She was shaking so badly she had to use both hands to raise it
to her lips. Her eyes stayed locked with his as she took a few small sips of
water before handing the cup back to him.
He set it on the nightstand. For a long moment he
said nothing, only observed her through half-hooded eyes, his demeanor seemingly
calm. Finally, he said, “It’s a good thing I decided to see you tonight instead
of in my office in the morning. I didn’t realize my showing up here would be so
shocking to you.”
She brought her hand to her throat. “You’re…
you’re Jason Armitage.”
“Yes. I thought you knew.”
She frowned. “How could I have known that?”
“My first reaction when I saw your television ad
was that it’d all been a set up. That you knew who I was six months ago and you
were using our night together to gain some kind of leverage over me.” He raised
his hand at her gasp of denial. “Asinine, I know. I realized as soon as you
opened the door that you’d never expected to see me again.”
“I had a strange feeling when I saw the room
number,” she whispered. “But I just couldn’t believe that it was anything but
coincidence. What are the chances?”
“Three hundred million to one would be a guess.”
His eyes gleamed with a peculiar light. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns
in all the world…”
She hesitated. “You’re not angry with me, then?”
“No.”
“I’ve never fainted before. How long was I out?”
“Just five minutes or so. How do you feel now?”
“A little woozy.” She clenched and unclenched her
hands, trying to still their trembling. “I still feel like I’m in some kind of
crazy dream. It’s really you sitting there…”
He clasped her bare leg
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