Chapter 1 #2
The faster I could get to my room, the faster I could put this night behind me. I hitched the bagged dress up in my arms as I went. Why did it seem to be getting heavier by the second?
My room was at the end of the long hall, and I was hyperaware that the man was following me. His heavy footsteps were muffled by the carpet, and each one made my heart beat faster. There were hardly any rooms left. Where was he going?
Finally, I reached my door, slid my key in the slot, and glanced over my shoulder to accuse him with a glare—
Only to see he had his keycard in the door of the room next to mine.
I let out a tight breath.
Given the night I’d had, it wasn’t my fault for being on edge. Our gazes connected for a moment, and it seemed as if he were waiting for this opportunity.
“Hey, I came back up to my room because I forgot my phone. You want to join me at the bar downstairs? I’m betting you could use a drink.”
“Oh,” I said. “Thanks, but I’m tired.”
“Okay.” He let the rejection roll right off him. “If you change your mind, I’ll buy your first one.”
I nodded in acknowledgement, stepped inside my room, and let the door close behind me with a weighty thud.
The goal was to shut everything out, but being alone had the opposite effect immediately.
I leaned back against the door and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.
The bed was too far away, and I needed a moment to catch my breath.
To stop feeling like I was kneeling on the theater floor, my hands wet with the man’s blood.
All the dark hotel room did was make me restless.
My bags were in a pile, so I picked up the garment bag first and hung it on the coat rack, unzipping it so I could peek inside. The gorgeous midnight blue dress was simple and refined. The exposed back was all mesh and lace. Sophisticated, timeless, and yet a hint of sexy.
It was another costume. In this one, I was to play provocative and confident.
But I was still stuck in that goddamn theater, the dying man’s empty expression fixed on his face. I had to get out of here. It probably wasn’t a good idea, but going to the bar was worth a try. I’d take awkward conversation with a stranger over this.
My gaze drifted down to my feet, and a pair of worn Nikes stared back up at me. My focus returned to the garment bag. This dress allowed me to be anything I wanted, and tonight I was desperate to be someone else.
It was subdued in the swanky lobby bar, especially for a Friday night, but it was also close to last call. I scanned the collection of tables before locating the man at the far end of the bar who was busy studying his phone. A barely touched drink rested in front of him.
“I changed my mind,” I announced, drawing his attention. It was hard to tell which surprised him more, that I was there—or my dress. His gaze washed over me, and his expression heated. He liked what he saw.
“And you changed clothes, too.” He signaled the bartender. “What would you like?”
I needed something strong. “Tequila soda, please.”
He ordered it and gestured to the empty stool beside him. When I went to climb on, the seat swiveled unexpectedly, giving him a view of the detail on my back.
“Oh, wow. Your dress is very pretty.”
“Thank you.” I’d always struggled to accept compliments and had to make a conscious effort to do so now.
He extended a hand. “I’m Seth.”
“Laurel.” His handshake was firm but not overbearing.
“Laurel,” he repeated. “What do you do?”
Hadn’t I told him already in the elevator? The bartender deposited the drink in front of me.
Oh. He thinks you were in the audience.
I picked up the glass and took a small sip. “I’m one of the cast members in the ballet.”
Confusion drew his eyebrows together. “You’re a ballerina?”
“I’m a ballet dancer,” I clarified. “It’s not quite the same as ballerina.”
His eyes drifted over to the muted television screen in the back corner. A ticker across the bottom read: “ONE DEAD IN CHICAGO DANCE THEATER SHOOTING.”
“Were you on stage?”
I took an even bigger sip this time since this was precisely what I came down to the bar to avoid. “Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?”
“Absolutely. What would you like to talk about?”
Oh, no. Small talk. “What do you do?”
“I’m a branch manager of an agri-chemical company down in Nashville.”
“That’s why you’re in town?”
“Yes, ma’am. They asked me to speak at a company conference.”
I nodded and scrambled to come up with another question, but couldn’t. Awkward silence stretched between us, and I cringed inside. I should have known better.
For some reason, Seth didn’t seem to mind or notice. He took a sip of his drink, turning the napkin absentmindedly on the bar. “I’m going to guess you know about as much about pesticides as I do about ballet.”
“Which is nothing?” A small smile crept across my lips.
“Bingo.” His phone vibrated, and he glanced at the screen. Whatever was there didn’t make him happy. He texted a quick response, set the phone down, and promptly drained his drink.
“It’s work stuff,” he said. “Our website is down.” He signaled to the bartender he’d like another. “There’s a licensing form our customers are supposed to have completed by the eighth. Which, you know, is tomorrow.”
Technically today, but I kept the comment to myself.
“I’m not IT,” he added. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
I stayed quiet, watching as the bartender prepared the new drink.
Seth must have felt the same tension I did, but he pressed on. “So . . . did I mention your dress is pretty?”
I smiled again. “Do you do that often?” I asked. “Speak at conferences?”
“Yeah, about every other month. We’ve got a new storage tank safety system for anhydrous ammonia that’s revolutionary.”
I could only imagine the face I made. I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about.
“It’s got all sorts of new features and capabilities,” he continued, “like an auto shut off valve, and how talking about it will make you seem like the most boring person in the world.” He pressed his glass to his lips, drank a swallow’s worth, and then blew out a breath.
“This guy’s giving me my money’s worth. My Manhattan’s almost undrinkable. ”
His phone on the bar top vibrated again, and relief filled his expression when he checked the screen.
“Crisis averted. The site’s already back up.” He slipped his phone into his jacket pocket. “So, what do you do for fun?”
I blinked. “I, um, enjoy reading.”
“Yeah? What kind of books?”
“Romance.”
It didn’t elicit the response I was used to receiving. There was no judgmental look or sly smile or question if I was reading smut. He simply nodded, and his gaze drifted back to the television.
His voice abruptly fell to a hush. “Can I tell you a secret?”
I swallowed thickly. “Sure.”
“I’m not so good at the ‘getting to know you’ conversations.”
I laughed lightly. “I don’t know, you seem fine to me. But please know, that’s coming from someone who is absolutely terrible at small talk.”
His expression was playful and dubious, like he couldn’t disagree more. He tilted his head a slight degree, as if considering something. Then the decision was made and he moved, closing the gap between us so he could set a hand on the small of my back.
I broke the gaze first, surprised and bashful. The mesh made it feel like I was wearing nothing at all, and his warm hand touched my skin in an intimate way. He lowered in, so his mouth was near my ear.
“What do you suggest we do about this, Laurel?” His voice was hushed and like velvet.
I went wooden. How had his hitting on me gone from zero to sixty in less than two seconds? It set off an alarm in my head.
“Uh, I . . . don’t know.” It was an honest answer at least, but it came out breathless and timid and I wished it had been something strong.
“Neither of us is good at this.” He grinned. “I say we skip it.”
“And do what instead?”
“Hey, it’s late and it’s been a long day. Maybe you want to go upstairs,” his voice dripped with innuendo, “and lie down.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, reeling. Too fast, and way too much.
“Thank you for the drink,” I blurted as I abandoned him at the bar.
I’d expected he’d have to close out his tab, and that would help me make my getaway, but I was only a few yards from the elevator when I noticed hurried footsteps. I glanced over my shoulder—
He was chasing after me, a wicked grin smeared on his face.