Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Shelby
M y heart pounds against my ribs in a frantic rhythm that drowns out the soft background noise of the lounge. He’s laying it all out there. And, God help me, I’m falling for it. I’m falling for him.
This is wild. We’ve spent a day together, and I feel like there’s more happening here than just an interview.
“Shelby, would you have dinner with me tonight?”His lovely, deep voice makes me think of naughty words whispered in the dark while we’re tangled in the sheets, sweat drying on our bodies.
“Ah, sure. Absolutely. I mean we’re both here, we have to eat, so why not?”
“No, I mean a date. I’d like to take you out to dinner. A nice dinner. Wine. Candlelight. Maybe even soft music. Do you like music?”
“Oh. Um… I’d like that. I mean, yes, I like music, and yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.”
The way he looks at me… the relief in his eyes stark as though he feared I might say no.
“How about we take a pause on the questions, and you go get ready for dinner. I’ll make a reservation for us. Meet back here, in the lobby, in two hours?”
I nod. “Okay.”For somebody who works with wordsevery day, my vocabulary is suddenly limited tovery simpleones.
He stands, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet.
I stumble and slam into his chest, a tiny puff of air slipping between my lips.
He holds me there for a moment before releasing me. But inthat couple ofseconds, I feel his heart thudding against mine. The warmth of his body heats mine. Our breaths mingle until I’m unsure if I’m breathing him in or he’s breathing me in. We stare into each other’s eyes. In my adult life, I’ve never experienced a moment of such clear understanding between two people that, without words, could be so profound.
I want him.
And he wants me.
“I won’t—”I have to clear my throat. “I won’t take long.”I step back, andinstantlythe loss of his touch leaves me wishing he’d wrap his arms around me and hold me against him forever.
“Take as long as you need.”
“What should I wear?”
His eyes widen, and his gaze slowly travels down my body. He swallows hard. “Something nice.”
I finally drag my attention away and head to the elevator while Spencer slowly strolls over to the concierge. He’s watching me. I can feel it, but I don’t turn to confirm my suspicion. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. When the elevator doors close, I collapse against the back wall, my hand to my throat, my eyes squeezed tight while I contemplate what just happened.
A giggle escapes. When I agreed to do this interview, I looked him up. The images I found didn’t do him justice. The accompanying articles even less so. The man does not match the label that’s been attached to him.
As the elevator begins its flight to my floor, I can’t help but replay the moment we just shared. The warmth of his body, the steady thrum of his heart so close to mine, and the way his eyes searched my soul. With the cool metal on my back, I press my hand to my chest to keep my heart from pounding right out of it. Giddy laughter escapes my lips, echoing softly in the confined space.
Spencer Hollis likes me.
And, heaven help me, I like him too.
The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and I step out, my low heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Imake my waydown the hallway, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts.
What should I wear?
How should I do my hair?
Should I wear my contacts instead of my glasses?
I pause outside my room, taking a deep breath before sliding the key card into the slot. The green light blinks, and I push the door open, stepping into my suite’s calm, quiet sanctuary. Leaning back against the door, I close my eyes for a moment.
This is crazy. I’m here to do a job, not fall for the subject of my story.
But Spencer isn’t just a subject anymore.He’sa man with depth, vulnerabilities, and aheart that beats wildly when we touch. I open my eyes, determination coursing through me. I’m going to enjoy every moment of this night.
I push off from the door and head to the closet, flipping through the hangers until I find the one really nice dress I thought to bring. It’s a deep blue, the color of Spencer’s eyes, with a neckline that dips just low enough to be alluring without being overt. I lay it out on the bed, then head to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let the water heat up.
As I step under the spray, the warm water cascades over my body, and I can’t help but imagine his hands on me, his fingers tracing my curves. I close my eyes, letting the fantasy play out in my mind. His touch would be gentle, his lips soft. Despite the water’s heat, I shiver, anticipation for the evening building.
Eager to get ready and not wanting to be late, I wash quickly, step out of the shower, and wrap myself in a plush towel before moving to the vanity. After wiping the steam from the mirror, I gaze at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes bright. I look happy. I can’t remember the last time I saw that look on my face. Smiling, I apply my makeup with a light touch, enhancing my features without hiding them. I want Spencer to be the real me.
I slip into the dress, the silky fabric cool and smooth against my skin. It fits perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. I opt for my contacts, wanting nothing to hide my eyes tonight, and curl my hair, letting the soft waves frame my face. Finally, I step intoa pair ofheels that give me just enough height to feel confident without being uncomfortable.
Taking one last look in the mirror, satisfaction courses through me. I look good. I feel good. I’m ready.
I didn’t think to bring a clutch, so I grab my one and only purse and double check that I have my room key. I pause, hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath. Then I open it and step out into the quiet hallway.
The elevator ride down is a blur, my blood pounding in my ears in excitement. As the doors slide open, I spot Spencer standing in the lobby, his back to me. He’s dressed in a dark suit that fits him like a glove, his hair styled in that casually perfect way that makes my fingers itch to run through the soft waves.
He turns as if sensing my presence, his eyes rounding slightly as I close the distance between us. I easily dismiss the other hotel guests milling about the lobby, some checking in, others lounging, possibly waiting to begin their evening out.
“Shelby,”he breathes, his voice a low rumble that thrills me. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”
He offers me his arm, a gentlemanly gesture that makes my heart flutter. I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow, feeling the firm muscles beneath his suit. The man really is gorgeous. From the corner of my eye, I catch a few female heads swiveling in our direction as he leads me out of the hotel to where a sleek black car is waiting at the curb. He opens the door, and I slide in, the leather seat sticky and cold against my legs.
As he settles in beside me, the driver pulls away from the hotel, merging into the evening traffic. Spencer turns to me, his eyes soft in the dim light of the car. “I hope you’re hungry. I’ve heard amazing things about this restaurant.”
“Starving,”I admit, my stomach rumbling not quietly enough as if on cue. I laugh, pressing a hand to my midsection. “I didn’t realize how much energy today would take.”
He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. “Today was easy. It’s your interview that’s the hard work.”
I shift to look at him full-on. “Why would that be? You only answered a few questions.”
“Because I’m telling you things I haven’t told anybody else.”
“Oh.”I’m not sure how to respond to that. Does he mean because I’m a journalist or because it’s me?
The car winds through the streets, the historic buildings casting long shadows in the setting sun. We stop at a restaurant tucked away on a quiet street, the exterior unassuming but elegant. Spencer helps me out of the car, his hand lingering on mine as we walk inside.
The ma?tre d’ greets us warmly, leading us to a secluded table in the back. The inside is intimate, the lighting dim, the atmosphere charged with a quiet energy. Spencer pulls out my chair, waiting until I’m seated before taking his own.
The waiter arrives with a wine list and fills our water glasses. “So, what do you feel like having?”Spencer asks. “I’m told everything here is excellent.”
I scan the menu, my stomach rumbling in anticipation. “In that case, I think I’ll have the lobster.”
“Excellent choice,”he says, signaling the waiter. He orders for both of us, his voice smooth and confident, as we discuss the perfect wine to accompany our meal. Then he turns his attention back to me. “This time, I want to learn about you, Shelby. Not the journalist, but the woman.”
I take a sip of my wine, considering his request. “Well, I grew up in Kingston. I have a brother, Shaun. Our parents died when I was young, so my aunt raised us. I’ve always loved writing, loved telling stories. I guess that’s why I eventually became a journalist.”
Spencer nods, understanding in his eyes. “I can relate to that. It’s hard to find someone who understands the demands of our jobs, the passion that drives us.”
I smile, feeling a connection growing between us. “And what about your personal life? Any serious relationships?”
Spencer shakes his head, a wistful look in his eyes. “Nothing serious.”
“Never?”I find that hard to believe.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been too focused. First on school and then on the job. I knew one day I’d take over for my father, so that was the agenda.”
“You deserve a life, too.”
“The women I usually date, also have an agenda. I’ve always wanted something real, something lasting. That’s been difficult to find. But maybe I just haven’t found the right person yet.”
My heart skips a beat, a sense of hope rising within me. “I feel the same way. I’ve been so focused on my career that I haven’t had time for a serious relationship. But someday, I’d like to have what my brother and his wife have.”
Spencer reaches across the table, his hand covering mine. “Maybe this weekend is just the beginning.”
My breath catches, my eyes meeting his. “I’d like that, Spencer. I’d like that very much.”
Our conversation flows easily, the wine and the atmosphere loosening our tongues and relaxing our nerves. We share stories, laughter, andglances that linger a little too long. By the time our food arrives, I feel like I’ve known Spencer for years, not days.
The lobster is delicious, the meat tender and sweet. Spencer watches me eat, and it might be the wine, but I find myself enjoying the attention. My body is responding in a way it hasn’t on past dates. I set down my fork, taking a long sip of wine to cool the fireburninginside me.
“This is incredible,”I say, gesturing to my plate. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“It’s my pleasure,”he says, his voice low, husky, sexy. “I wanted tonight to be special.”
“It is,”I assure him, my voice matching his. “It really is.”
As we finish our meal, the tension between us builds a palpable force that seems to draw us closer with each passing moment. I can feel the desire growing, a need to be closer to Spencer, to feel his touch, to taste his lips. To have him touch and taste me.
Spencer pays the bill, and we leave the restaurant; the night air is warm but not humid, a perfect summer night. The city lights twinkle around us, adding a romantic glow to the atmosphere. Spencer takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, a natural and intimate gesture.
“Would you like to take a walk?”
I nod. “I’d love that.”
We stroll through the streets, the cobblestones beneath our feet and the gentle glow of the streetlights casting a warm, inviting light. The city is alive with the sounds of laughter and music, the scent of flowers, and the faint smell of the river.
“This city is magical,”I murmur, lookingup at the varioushistoric buildings. “It feels like we’re in a fairy tale.”
Spencer smiles, looking down at me. “It does, doesn’t it?There’s a charm here that’s hard to find anywhere else.”
We walkin silencefor a moment, taking it allin,while Spencer traces circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.
“I never thought I’d find someone like you, Shelby,”he says softly, breaking the silence. “Someone who understands me, who sees past the headlines and the rumors.”
I look up at him, my eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “I see you, Spencer Hollis. And I like what I see.”
He stops suddenly and turns to face me. He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing gently against my skin. “I like what I see too, Shelby Bailey. More than I can express.”
He leans in, his lips brushing gently against mine. The kiss is feather-light, tender, andfilled with promises.
I melt into him, my handsreaching up to touchhis face, deepening the kiss.
The world around us fades away, leaving us lost in the moment.
When we finally pull apart, our breaths heavy and hot between us, our foreheads resting against each other. “I want this, Shelby,”Spencer whispers. “I want you .”
My eyes shine with unshed tears. “I want you too, Spencer. More than anything.”