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She snuggled into him one more time, searing the warmth of his touch into her memory, before sitting up. “I can’t miss my plane.” She scooted to the edge of the bed and grabbed her T-shirt off the floor.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and ran his lips along the back of her neck and her shoulders. “So, what now?” The light kisses muffled his question.
“Now? I get dressed. In about six hours I set down in St Louis.” She leaned back into the attention.Damn it. Why couldn’t this last a little longer?
“Not what I meant.” He nipped at her shoulder. “I’m talking about us. What now?”
A sick pit formed in her gut. She hadn’t figured that out yet. “I don’t know. But I know I can’t just walk away.”
He settled his chin on her shoulder, the scruff of a day’s worth of unshaved beard scratching her cheek. “I was hoping you’d say that. Neither can I.”
She finished putting her shirt on and focused on enjoying his arms wrapped around her waist. Without pulling away, she grabbed her purse from the nightstand, plucked out a business card, and scribbled her cell-phone number and personal e-mail address on the back. “Make sure you call me. If I can’t see you, I want to hear that million-dollar voice.”
His laugh rumbled through her back, and he took the card from her. “Million dollar, huh? I ought to make you my new agent.”
She rested her cheek against his. “Promise you’ll call?”
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and laid a line of kisses down her cheek. “I promise. I know it’s weird with the whole only-known-each-other-a-weekend thing, but I’m going to miss you.”
The words dug deep. Anything she felt needed to grow, before she named it, but she also desperately wanted whatever it was to have a chance. “Same.” Inspiration struck, and she grinned. “I’ll be in Dallas in three weeks.”
He nipped her neck. “Fort Worth in four. Hook up on the weekend between?”
“Looking forward to it.”
“Then I’ll let you go for now.” He kissed the edge of her ear, one last time. “Talk to you when your plane touches down.”
Chapter Eleven
Leaving the airportnow. Be there as soon as I can.
That’s what Brandon’s text said. From her own flight in, Molly knew that meant he’d arrive at the hotel in thirty to forty-five minutes, and the clock crept forward fast.
She had no idea how she was supposed to act. She’d never booked a hotel room with the intent of meeting a guy there. Not like this, with a weekend of fooling around planned. She did know she didn’t want to be wearing her work clothes anymore. It was after five on a Friday; she might as well change into something more comfortable.
But should it be the innuendo-laden kind ofmore comfortable, or was her jeans-and-T-shirt combination the right way to go?
