At that moment, the elevator doors pinged and slid open. Level twenty-five. Where Cherry’s room was located.
‘Let’s get off.’ Sean reached for her hand.
‘Or not.’
Ignoring her dig, he moved out of the lift and into the corridor. ‘Come on. I’ll walk you to your room.’
Outside Cherry’s room, her hand still in Sean’s, she sensed him watching her as she unlocked the door with her keycard. She swung round and leaned against it, pushing it open with her back, gaze fixed on him, lips parted, lids laden, anticipating his response. This seductiveness had worked in the past.
But Sean examined her with a pained expression that suggested he was fighting against every atom of desire in his body. He wanted her, but he wasn’t going to take her. The man had principles. She should admire him for that.
But, hell, she wanted him. Like, achingly wanted.
‘Are you coming in?’ she asked.Goddammit, say yes.
‘No. Do you have a pen in your bag?’
Cherry sighed, fished into her bag and handed Sean a ballpoint pen.
He lifted her hand to his. ‘Here’s my room number.’ Sean wrote the number 3707 on her skin, and next to it his name. If you wake up and still feel the same as tonight, come get me. I’ll take you to breakfast.’
Cherry considered the rather surprising number. ‘It almost looks like love,’ she said.
‘Pardon?’
‘The numbers: three, seven, zero, seven. They almost look like L, O, V and E, when you’re reading upside down.’
Sean looked down at her hand still resting in the confident hold of his own, consideringher observation. He ran the wide pad of his thumb under the numbers.Low-level electricity zinged through her.
‘Aye,’ he murmured deeply. ‘It’s all a bit backwards and upside down, but it does kind of look like “love” alright.’ The dismissal or humouring that Cherry had expected wasn’t there.Only a man on exactly the same page.
Only a concurrence that this could indeed be love, delivered in an encrypted way but there to see if you knew how to decode it.
Chapter 3
Cherry
The following morning, Cherry woke up with Sean’s room number still on her hand and an aching desire to find him. Not to mention an aching between her legs that had to be sated in the shower before she pulled on a sky-blue summer dress, flip-flops, whipped her hair into a messy bun and made her way to room 3707.
As soon as Sean opened his door, the aching returned. Here he was – fresh-out-of-the-shower hair, cargo shorts and a white shirt. So tall – at least six four – with solid legs, muscular arms, and innumerable tattoos. Cherry was a goner for a man with tattoos, and Sean had them by the armload.
‘Morning, Paradise.’ From the energy in his voice, you wouldn’t suspect he’d sunk as much alcohol as he had the night before. Maybe it had all been smoke and mirrors. Or he was one of those people who easily bounced back.
‘You don’t seem hungover,’ she said.
Sean grinned. ‘Hangovers are a state of mind. Also, I only drink quality whisky, and a lot of water when no one’sabout. The sight of you might just cure any hangover, though.’ He glanced down the corridor towards the lift. ‘I was googling ways to make elevators stall. I think I can get us a good three minutes before the alarm goes off.’
Cherry lifted a questioning brow. Was he serious?
‘I’m joking. You want to hang out, though? You were the first thing I thought about when I woke up, and I think we should do New York today. You up for it?’
She said yes. Of course, she said yes.
First was brunch at Bubby’s – a New York institution. Facing each other with two giant stacks of pancakes, hers laden with blueberries and his caramelised banana and walnuts, Cherry realised not only how hungry she was, but how curious she was about Sean.
‘Who would be your ideal dinner guest?’ she asked amid the lively hubbub of the sun-drenched diner. ‘That’s one of the questions to make you fall in love, by the way. Just for full disclosure.’
‘Ah, thanks for letting me know I’m part of your experiment.’ Sean stabbed his pancake stack with his fork. ‘You have a willing participant. And to answer, I know I’m meant to say my dad or Jesus or something, but my honest answer is Hercules the Bear.’
