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Chris: Thanks???
Gemma: You know what I mean. Don’t wait for every damn star to align. You’re a catch. Remember that
Chris: Aww.
Chris: Also, you might be biased
Gemma: Yeah? You want me to poll the friends who asked for your contact info? Take it slow if that’s what’s needed, but go for it
Chris: I plan to
DAPHNE
Chris collapsed against the hotel corridor wall as she got out her key card.
“Longest day ever,” he said.
He was slouched, head lolled, tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth, eyes rolled up. His hair was sticking up on one side, and faint lines of exhaustion etched the corners of his mouth. She was pretty sure that was a salad dressing stain on his rumpled shirt. It didn’t matter. He was still the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Maybe even hotter than when she’d first spotted him, perfectly groomed, getting out of his pickup at that Vancouver restaurant.
Nope, he was definitely hotter now. He was real now. Worn out from the long day, goofing around, not caring how he looked, just being himself.
“I definitely owe you overtime,” she said.
His nose wrinkled. “I hope that’s a joke, D, because I was not angling for overtime. Or seriously complaining about a long day.”
“I know. But it was long. And exhausting. When the schedule said dinner would last until ten, I figured that was worst-case. We shut down the restaurant.”
“Uh-huh. Is there even any point in going to bed if we just have to leave for the airport in four hours?”
Daphne hesitated. There was a hook dangling there. She should snatch it.
Ha-ha, yes, we should just stay up. Together. In my room. I have the keys to the minibar.
Word it right, and he could laugh it off if he didn’t want to, but if he did?
We should totally do that. Who needs sleep?
He needed sleep. He had an early-morning interview—live on TV—followed by a radio interview, also live, and two print media interviews. Then stock signings all afternoon, leading up to the evening event.
“Tempting,” she said.
“Right?”
That hook is definitely dangling. Take it. Screw the interviews. Screw the flight even. He’s Zane Remington. He’s allowed to be a dick.
She wanted this. She wanted it so badly, and they were already on the second night, with her chance of a fling evaporating.
He sighed. “But I suppose we should behave.”
“If we don’t, we put Sakura in a bad spot.”
“And she doesn’t deserve it.”
“She really doesn’t,” Daphne said.
“So when do we get a break tomorrow? We’re free before the signing, right? Can I take you to dinner?”
“I’ll ask Sakura to leave it open for us, but I think I should be taking you to dinner.”
