Page 9 of One Weekend in Vienna

She wanders past the bed, over to the curtains and slides them open enough to peek behind them, as if maybe by some miracle there would be another bed hiding in there.

“There’s just one bed,” she mutters.

“Yep. Just one large, comfy looking bed.”

Her eyes track past me to the bed. “But don’t worry, Anna. I’m a gentleman and I’ll take the floor.”

Anna steps back and turns, crossing her arms again like she’s trying to shield herself. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor. We’re both adults. We can share.” She sighs, drawing my attention to how she’s hugging herself.

Is she shielding herself from... me? Or just this moment? The same buzz of attraction that crackled between us like electricity the first night we met fills the room. The only difference right now is Anna. When she didn’t know exactly who I was, the night was filled with possibilities. We were just two people caught up in some crazy instant attraction, chemistry making us feel like we’d known each other forever and that this was the start of something new and amazing.

Right now, her guard is up. She’s a fortress, all sharp edges and locked gates, but I’ve spent my entire career learning how to read defenses, and Anna’s body language tells me everything I need to know.

She’s fighting herself, not me.

I shrug off my coat and hang it up. I’m not about to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable, but I can’t let this opportunity go. If nothing happens, then maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time and I need to put my obsession with this incredible woman in my rear view.

I carefully move closer but lean back against the dresser and shove my hands in my pockets to keep them from reaching for her too soon. Outside, the wind howls against the window, rattling it like it might break. It’s the only sound, apart from the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“I can’t believe I’m sharing a hotel room with you. I’m not even sure how this happened,” she mutters, her voice just above a whisper. She avoids my eyes, studying the floor like it holds the answers.

“You’re not?” I tease, keeping my tone light. Playful. God, I hope it works, because inside, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at her, and hoping she’ll take the leap with me. “Pretty sure it started with a storm, then a hotel capacity issue, and, oh yeah, I offered for you to stay here instead of sending you off into dangerous weather.”

“Because you’re a nice guy?”

It feels like a loaded question. And I know why she’s asking it. I’m not a nice guy. If I were a nice guy, I wouldn’t be able to do my job. But that doesn’t make me a bad guy either. I like kittens and babies, as long as they aren’t trying to take the puck from me.

I shrug. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal. I’ll take the chair.”

She glances down at the overstuffed club chair. It looks comfortable enough to watch television, but I can already feel my back twinge at the thought of waking up there. I’d be better off on the floor. “It’ll be fun.”

“Fun?” Anna frowns. “Define fun.”

“Fun as in seeing how long it takes for you to realize you actually like having me around.”

She rolls her eyes “I don’t.”

“It seemed like you were having fun when we were skating,” I say mildly, taking a seat in the chair and bouncing on the cushion. “It’s got some give, and I can put my feet up on the coffee table.” I stand to face her. “I invited you to share a room with me so you would be safe. If that means I take the chair, it’s fine.”

Her eyes snap to mine, a hint of fire flickering there. “Fine? You weigh, like, two hundred pounds, not to mention those trees you have as legs. It will be torture.”

I grin, because there’s that spark I’m craving. “You think I weigh two hundred pounds? I don’t know whether I’m flattered or insulted.”

Her lips press together, but the corner of her mouth twitches. A win. “You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t mean?—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupt, stressing the word as I straighten and take one careful step toward her. “I’ll take it as a compliment. Most stats make me sound like a tank.” I do a little catwalk turn. “I guess Luxx wanted me for my model-esque svelteness.”

She laughs but tries to stifle it, and the sound is the cutest snort I’ve ever heard. Her arms drop to her sides, though her fists remain clenched. It’s progress as far as I’m concerned. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” I say, closing the distance between us in another slow step. I want to reach for her—more than I want my next breath—but I don’t.

Not yet.

I’m known for taking risks that pay off and my next gamble feels like it could change the outcome of the game. “This whole thing between us should be impossible, but somehow we’re here, together.”

She blinks up at me, her brow furrowed, and I can see the war she’s waging with herself. It’s written all over her face, in the way she chews on her bottom lip and shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

“Max…” she says softly, her voice trembling just enough to make my chest ache.

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