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Archie glanced at the old clock hanging on the wall next to the bedroom door. “Should I be getting you back? It’s pretty late. I bet you start early.”
I followed his gaze, shocked to see that it was almost midnight. I’d been enjoying myself and didn’t feel the least bit tired. But it was late. “Oh, yeah. I guess so.”
Just then my phone buzzed in my pocket and I slipped it out to see a text from Christine.
Christine: You’re not back. It’s midnight. Do I need to send the cavalry? Front desk is my next call if you don’t answer.
“My friend is checking on me to see if I was axe-murdered.”
“Oh, I was just getting to that part,” Archie said.
I laughed and texted Christine.
Me: On my way back in a second. Go to sleep.
Christine: I did. I set an alarm to check for you at midnight.
Me: Thank you. I’m fine. Be right there.
“She’s worried?” Archie asked, rising from the table, and collecting our plates.
“She’s a good friend,” I said, standing and stretching my arms over my head as Archie stacked our things back on the room service tray.
I gathered my bag and pulled it to my shoulder, moving slowly in my reluctance to leave the warm cocoon of the evening I’d just spent.
Archie walked me to the door and turned to face me before opening it. “Thanks for all the help,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” I thought of something suddenly and it burst from my mouth. “You’re not planning to go check on the church without me, are you?”
He smiled, “I’ll wait until you have time. I’m supposed to be making sure this conference goes smoothly anyway.”
“Okay. Promise?” I wanted to spend more time with him and this was my excuse.
His eyes found mine and the blue appeared to darken. “Promise.” He pulled open the door. “I’ll walk you back.”
A little thrill buzzed through me. “You really don’t have to. I’m sure I’m safe inside the hotel as long as I avoid the elevators.”
“You are,” he agreed, stepping into the hall at my side and pulling shut his door. “I want to. If you don’t mind.”
His words made me feel warm, taken care of. “I don’t mind.”
We walked the long hallways silently, Archie’s hand brushing mine as we moved side by side. A thrill shot through me at the contact, and I wished for so much more, anticipation making me feel wide awake. The hotel was quiet around us, most of the writers already in bed, preparing for another long day tomorrow. When we arrived at my door in the other wing, I turned to face my host.
“Thanks,” I said.
Archie smiled, and his eyes roved my face, sending my heart rate dancing just a little bit quicker. “You’re welcome.” The words were a murmur and his eyes glanced off my mouth, and then raised again, burning into my own.
I was drawn to him in so many ways. He was handsome, sure, but he was also complex and fascinating, and there was an element of his guardedness, his pain, that made me want to comfort him somehow. I leaned in, and he met me halfway as my hand raised to find his chest.
The plane of muscle beneath my palm was warm and solid, and when his hand found my jaw, his thumb tracing a soft line there, I stopped breathing.
He tipped his head forward, and our foreheads touched. I could feel each of us suspended in that moment, taut with tension and held as if in amber by the uncertainty we both felt.
“I don’t want to make assumptions,” he whispered. “I just?—”
I closed the distance between our mouths, my lips grazing his softly in answer.
Archie’s hand slid to the back of my neck, cupping my head, as his other hand found my waist and rested there lightly.
