Chapter 2
TWO
Bastian
FURTHER WORDS HAD weighted her lips. Even without seeing them, he’d sensed she wasn’t done sharing. Urging her into the stairwell was the quickest way to regain his sanity.
In theory.
The unique aroma of her intoxicating perfume tempted him to whisk her away from her family, her ex, and all her troubles. What was he thinking?
The gym was supposed to tire him, not set him on a personal mission.
Let it go. It was a bad idea. Forget her. And her troubles. And the breathy little gasps that peppered her desperate words.
He stifled an internal groan.
In less than five hours, he was expected to host a fleet of executives seeking partnership. He didn’t want to partner—no, open mind. Keep an open mind. His friend Breck’s advice. Caspian concurred. Both knew what they were talking about.
There, in the hotel, his hotel, he’d be the consummate host for his professional guests.
This was his world. His home ground. On balance, he probably spent more time in hotels than he did in his own home.
Pushing through was where he excelled. Business, his life, it gave him an outlet for the mental energy he couldn’t expend elsewhere.
Though even that had been dragging of late.
Insomnia plagued him. Irritation was never good for business.
Everything was on the up, he had no excuse for worry or preoccupation.
Recently, for some reason, an unfamiliar weight burdened his shoulders.
Something was there, something he wanted.
Something he could feel but couldn’t see.
Until he could figure out what the hell it was, he couldn’t pursue it.
Damnit, he was a man of action. See the goal, head straight for it, no distractions.
Success often meant being surrounded by people. Yet the number of bodies in his periphery was irrelevant if there was nothing to embrace, no challenge, no peace. God, what was wrong with him?
He needed to get laid.
Nope. Even that failed to inspire a smile. Sex was easy. What about laughter? Conversation? Connection?
He and Robyn had called it quits a while ago. Some might attribute his insomnia to that, but it wasn’t. If anything, getting out of that entanglement was a relief.
No, the hunger clawed long before they ended things. Something wanted to race him, he wanted to race…
Shit. No one could have it all. With the business taking up most of his time, his personal relationships often suffered. This was it. Life. Fucking handle it.
What was her scent? What did she…? Sweet, clean, fresh… playful. Like new season berries and mango, peach… the most incredible mouth-watering fruit salad. What the fuck did that mean?
The sweet woman sought something too.
Pride. Confidence. Security.
She wanted to be in a room with a companion, someone there for her.
Someone without ulterior motives. Someone to take her around the dance floor.
He got that. Singles often experienced social occasions from the margins. Judged. Silenced. Pitied.
Miss Sweet wanted someone to be there for her. A plus one. A person catering to her needs. A crutch to lean on instead of propping herself against a wall in the corner hoping to remain unseen.
Working social events under the guise of business networking, he understood the perspective. As he talked industry with staid associates, couples talked, laughed, reveled in each other. Discussing debentures and dividends didn’t fall into the category of fun.
After Sweet disappeared into the stairway, he used the employee elevator to get to his floor. Workout forgotten, now he was fastening his Rolex and running his hands through his dark, damp hair. It wasn’t perfect but it would do.
Heading out, he was soon back in the employee elevator. Singles needed to stick together. That pressure she spoke of, applied by others to “fix” those not in relationships, had been aimed at him a time or two.
This Damon guy did a helluva number on Miss Sweet. On her own, she had no way to combat or deflect that. Joining her was impulse. Good idea or bad? One thing was for sure, Damon would never pity Miss Sweet again.
All he had to do was seek out her scent in the ballroom… which would reek of perfumes and cologne. That’d be a breeze. He was nothing if not determined. Why not give it a shot? Right now, the mysterious woman needed a helping hand.
It would be a game, a fun distraction. He’d wriggled out of tough spots in his life and now had the chance to pay it forward. Maybe he’d catch that smile that evaded her.