Page 13 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

She tries not to give me the pleasure of seeing her smile, but it was worth the effort when she turns back and reveals it. “Tatum hasn’t returned, and she has the key. You don’t mind if I wait here, do you? You’re much more interesting than a lobby full of lovey-dovey couples.”

“No problem. Lovey-dovey?” I kick the door closed and follow her into the villa’s living area.

She stops and looks around before turning back to me. She tilts her head, her hair flowing in soft waves over her shoulder, and she smiles. “You know, making out, holding hands, kissing, dressed up for dinner or drinks. Basically, couples who look more like they’re having an affair than together for any length of time.”

“Interesting observation and assumption.”

“Listen, Nick. Real love is for fairy tales. I can name a dozen couples who make things work for financial reasons or emotional stability, for the kids, or to fight the fear of loneliness. They don’t put affection on display or make a production when their wife or husband enters a room.” She shrugs. I’m not sure if it’s a fleeting emotion of sadness or resignation I see cross her blue eyes, but it doesn’t belong there.

“So what you’re saying is you’re a romantic?” I quirk a smirk and give her a little wink.

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for my knight in shining armor to show up and whisk me away on his white horse.” She’s almost convincing by the longing heard in her tone and far-off gaze.

“Where would you go?”

As if the spell is still cast, she replies, “To our castle, of course, silly. And guess what?”

“What?”

“We’d live happily ever after.” Her smile is lost under the admission as if a thief has stolen her joy.

Leaning against a corner of the room, I cross my arms over my chest, finding it fascinating how animated she can be one minute and then introspective the next. “That’s very romantic for a non-romantic.”

“What can I say? A girl can still dream even when her feet are planted in reality.” She cuts over to the bar and grabs a bottle of water. “Can I have this? I can order more for your room later.”

Although she’s already drinking it, I say, “It’s all yours, and what kind of host would I be if I made a guest restock the supply?”

Natalie’s already moved on toward the terrace. “We have an incredible view from our room,” she says, “but wow, the ocean is endless on this side of the hotel.” Excitement colors her expression when she reaches for the handle of the oversized glass door. Over her shoulder, she asks, “May I?”

“Of course. Make yourself at . . . well, it’s not my home.” I shrug. “But a home away from home.” She smiles. God, she has a great smile, and I’ve enjoyed every last one of them.

“A home for a few days. Sorry for ruining it by interrupting whatever you were doing. First at the bar and now at the hotel. It’s almost like we’re becoming a thing.”

“Guess we were meant to meet.”

“So I could barge into your life three times? You’re very optimistic, Nick.” She slides the door open.

“There was no barging either time.”Quite the opposite.“The last time, in fact, I held the door wide open.”

“And you’re polite enough to give cover for a girl who can’t hold her rum.” She sends a wink my way before firing off a list of aggravations—stupid fashion, Tatum, purses, the hotel’s response—which solidifies my thought that, sadly, she didn’t come knocking willingly. Missing a few pieces to this puzzle, I ask, “Why couldn’t you get into your room?”

“I’m blaming my ex-friend Uma for that,” she says with a roll of her eyes. I chuckle but bite my tongue. “Can you see anywhere on my body where I could possibly hide my ID?”

She’s giving me permission to check her out, so that’s what I do.

Slowly.

Taking my time, I start at the top and let my gaze slide over her until I reach the bottom.

Twice.

By the second tour of her curves, she’s squirming a little, which makes me chuckle again. “Do you really want me to answer that, Natalie? Because that means I need to check every inch of you.”

“You mean again? Because you just did it twice,” she whips back, but I also catch her blushing. I wouldn’t mind touching those cheeks to see how soft and warm they really are. She waves her arms, and then her energy deflates and they land hard at her sides. “Anyway, no ID. No room key. No phone. So, here I am.”

Typically, I don’t rely on astrology or New Age beliefs, but she’s different from the other women I normally meet. I want to have sex with her. Sure,naturally. But I kind of don’t mind the lead-up, the foreplay to it with her. Smirking, I tip my head down and run my fingers through my hair.

Okay, she doesn’t make a ton of sense, but she’s entertaining, nonetheless. The earlier far-off look in her eyes is now focused, the entire universe appearing to weigh down her shoulders as she stares into the distance, and she asks, “Think we can see the boat from here?”

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