I’m so out of my element.
Mason joins me, and we look at the city together. After a few moments, he bumps my shoulder. “I’m glad you came.”
“I am too.”
He turns his head to face me. “What do you think—are you up for a little swimming?”
I’m exhausted, but the indoor pool in this place must be spectacular. “Isn’t it closed?”
Surely he was kidding about visiting after hours.
Mason grins. “Not for us.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The attendantthe hotel sent to open the locked door gives us another surreptitious look over his shoulder. He’s a little older, in his late-forties, and he doesn’t seem to know who Mason is or why he’s important. But it’s obvious the jean-clad, gray-eyed young man issomeone, because why else would he have access to the pool at this time of night?
“Towels are in the changing rooms,” the man says as he holds the door open for us. “Stay as long as you like, but please be aware there is no lifeguard on duty.”
We nod and head into the hallway. Two sleek, stainless steel doors flank either side of the hall. I walk into the ladies’ changing room, and Mason does the same in the mens’ across from me. He flashes me a reassuring smile. “I’ll meet you inside.”
I’ve never seen a changing room inside a hotel’s indoor pool area, but it makes sense. Who wants elite guests wearing flip-flops and dripping water on the highly polished marble floors? That’s just a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Set on a motion sensor, the lights automatically flicker on when I step through the door. It’s subdued lighting, the kind that’s warm and forgiving. A potted orchid sits on a small table at the entrance, and the air smells exotic—like jasmine or nerolior whatever those expensive essential oils are that Riley has started to hoard since she began making soap.
I change quickly, and once I’m in my suit, I begin to question my sanity. What was I thinking? I ran track in high school, and I’m still pretty fit, but Mason spends his time around celebrities. Those women have personal trainers, silicone implants, and who knows what else. They’re like Chrissy and Christy, but the work is actually done well.
Scowling, I frown at my swimsuit-clad self in the mirror. It’s a tasteful suit, a cute, hot pink tankini that looks a lot better in the summer when I have a tan. I don’t have a choice now. It will have to do.
After pulling my hair into a quick braided bun so it won’t knot, I wrap one of the plush, luxurious towels around my middle and head to the door.
I stop under the threshold, awed. The lighting is even lower in here, a soft twilight. A man-made rock ledge towers at the opposite end of the winding pool, and various tiny waterfalls cascade into the water. The pool itself is turquoise, lit by lights in the perimeter of the water. The walkways around the pool mimic natural patio pavers, and there is a smattering of flowerbeds holding tropical foliage in each.
A skylight stretches above us, a massive thing that encompasses the entire pool. The sky is black right now, but I imagine it’s quite a sight in the daytime.
Mason lounges in the water, sitting on a stone ledge along the right side. His hair is wet, making me think he dove right in.
“What do you think?” he asks.
I slip off my towel, fighting my discomfort. “It’s beautiful.”
Not wanting to linger on the edge, I step into the water. It’s cool, but not cold. The perfect temperature.
I swim out a little way, and Mason meets me in the middle.
“This is one of my favorite places,” he says, looking around as if he’s taking it in. “I try to come every time I’m in New York, but only when it’s closed.”
It’s so quiet and serene. I can see why Mason likes it here.
“When you’re not on tour, how much do you travel?” I ask.
He seems pensive here, relaxed but thoughtful.
“I’m in LA for long stretches when I’m recording, and my lawyers are based here.”
“But where do you live?”
Mason sets his hand on the surface of the water, splaying out his fingers. “I have a studio in LA, but I’m not sure that’s home. I suppose the road is where I live, or it has been for the last several years.”
