“I am not daydreaming.”
Amy grinned. “Oh. Then this must be for me.”
I held out my hand. “Give it here.” I took the lily and the envelope, muttering, “Love-struck damsel. I should sue you for defamation.”
“For which I wouldn’t be liable,” she said cheerfully, “because I speak the truth.”
“Out,” I said, shooing her with my hands. “Get thee home to your husband.”
She backed toward the door. “Have fun tonight.”
“Good night, Amy.”
“Say hi to Caleb for me.”
“Begone,” I called, but she was already gone.
I opened the envelope, reminding myself not to forget the card I’d hand-made for Caleb and tucked into my desk drawer. This one was store-bought—white, with a background of shiny red hearts.
Tonight is the start of something new.
Go to room 1501.
Room 1501. Here at the hotel?Inside the card was a plastic electronic key. I frowned and reread the message. Was this some low-effort attempt to get me into bed? I might have expected something like that from the old Caleb, but the man I’d spent Christmas and New Year’s with? The man who had sat beside my hospital bed?
It didn’t make sense. And yet, the evidence was right there in my hand.
This wasnothow it was supposed to happen.
I marched out of my office and into the elevator lobby, stabbing the button for the guest floors. Caleb was going to hear exactly what I thought. Did he honestly believe this was romantic? Me showing up at five in the afternoon, still in my work clothes, expected to leap into bed?
The elevator arrived.
I swiped the key card and pressed fifteen, then stood there silently fuming as the lift rose, chiming softly at each floor.
By the time the doors opened, I realized I didn’t have a rebuke ready.
Not. Romantic. Caleb.
No. That wasn’t sharp enough.
Seriously? A booty call in my own hotel? I suppose you want me to comp theroom as well.
Better.
I stopped in front of Room 1501, brandishing the key card and rehearsing the lines under my breath. My heart didn’t need this kind of stress. I unlocked the door, shouldered it open, and?—
“Ms. Rodriguez?”
There were four women inside, all professionally dressed and impeccably styled. The one who had spoken held a curling wand.
“My name is Lakshmi. I’ll do your hair.”
“Sabine,” said the woman beside her, holding a black and silver attaché case. “Make-up.”
“I’m Kara,” said another, flashing French-polished nails. “We have time for a pedi too, if you want to wear sandals.”
I couldn’t speak. The words I’d prepared for Caleb were still frozen on my lips. My gaze landed on the fourth woman, who stood beside a rack of stunning dresses.
