Page 12 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

Nodding, I wave. “See you around.” We both turn away at the same time, heading in opposite directions—in the hotel and in life. Despite the burning desire to run after him, I don’t. Going our separate ways is best. I’ll order food and can start packing. Tatum will be back before I know it, then tomorrow, we’ll catch our early flight back to Manhattan.

A quiet dinner.

A glass of wine on the patio.

Then to bed before we trek back home.

There’s definitely no need to tangle a man into my plan and complicate my life. Who cares about dimples and scruffy jaws, sinful eyes and those big hands?

Not me.

Nope.

I stop in front of the door, but instead of relief, panic sets in. “Oh, no.” Patting my back pockets, I search for anything that will get me into this room— the key, my phone, ID. I don’t even have money or a credit card. “No. No. No. No. No.” I slam my hands against the wood. “Ugh!”

Tatum!Damn her.

I carried our stuff this afternoon when she insisted a purse ruined the look of her bikini. Tonight, she carried mine since I didn’t have a purse that wouldn’t get in the way of our carefree fun. A lot of good that did me. It’s so out of the way it’s on a yacht somewhere in the harbor.

A couple comes around the corner, drawing my attention with their laughter. I’m not exactly lost in the desert, stranded with no hope of finding civilization. But before I get wound up even more in that direction, I head for the front desk. I’ll be in the room in five, ten minutes tops. I rest my hands on the cold stone counter in front of an attendant, my gaze dipping to her name tag. “Hi, Uma, my traitor of a roommate took off for a yacht party, leaving me without a key to get into the room or even a phone to call her.”

She smiles so sweetly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of that happening, but it usually ends with them losing the key in the harbor. The good news is I can help. Name and room number please?”

“Natalie St. James. Room 351.”

After tapping a few keys, she narrows her eyes on the screen. “All right. I see your name right here, Ms. St. James. I’ll just need to see your ID.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t have that either. See, it was my best friend’s turn to carry our stuff in her purse since I carried it to the pool.” Resting my arms on the counter, I laugh from the memory. “It’s actually very funny because we were out shopping for a little purse for me, but then we came across this bar, and if they put the straw hat on your head, you have to drink.”

“Sounds like Later Gators.”

I snap. “Yes, that’s the place.Anyhow, we’re sharing a suite, but the Vespa got a flat, and there were two guys so sweet and helpful.” Leaning forward, I whisper, “She went with Harrison to the party, and I returned to the hotel with Nick, though I hate two-wheeled anything. Although I didn’t hate being on two wheels with him. In fact?—”

“Sounds very eventful, Ms. St. James?—”

“You can call me Natalie,” I offer since we’re bonding and all.

“I’m sorry, Natalie. I can’t give you a key without seeing ID. Is there anything else I can help you with today?” Despite straightening my back, my shoulders still fall under defeat as I stare at her like we’re speaking different languages, and I don’t have a translation app. Her smile never falters, though, making me suspicious. Suddenly, I don’t think she’s as sweet as she appears. She adds, “It’s hotel policy for the safety of our guests.”

“But I’m a guest.”

Her smile zips into a straight line, and then she holds her finger up when the phone starts ringing. “My apologies again.” She directs her attention toward answering the phone and turns a cold shoulder to me.

Leaving the desk, I wander to the lobby lounge. I only stand there a moment before I not only feel out of place among all the couples but my stomach also growls, garnering unwanted attention—mine to be precise.

When a certain man’s room number floats through my head, I begin to believe it would be perfectly okay for me to barge in on him.Would it?He did invite me, after all.

Not two minutes later, I find myself standing in front of room 203. Staring at the san serif silver numbers, I take a deep breath, readying myself for battle. That’s what this will be—a war waged between what I shouldn’t do and what I really want to do. My hand is raised, and I knock three times before I can change my mind. The pinpoint of light seen in the peephole goes dark, and then the door swings open.

Met with his welcoming grin, I shrug. “I was in the neighborhood.”

5

Nick

“Don’t get any ideas.”I’m poked in the chest as she passes by, and then adds, “I won’t stay long.”That’s disappointing.

“Come on in,” I reply sarcastically to the back of her head. Letting myself enjoy the view over my shoulder, I take in her body—the toned legs dipping out of her shorts and her obvious curves under that baggy linen shirt. “You won’t be here long enough for me to get ideas? Too late for that, sweetheart.”

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