Page 16 of One Weekend in Quebec City

“Shelby, would you have dinner with me tonight?”His lovely, deep voice makes me think of naughty words whispered in the dark while we’re tangled in the sheets, sweat drying on our bodies.

“Ah, sure. Absolutely. I mean we’re both here, we have to eat, so why not?”

“No, I mean a date. I’d like to take you out to dinner. A nice dinner. Wine. Candlelight. Maybe even soft music. Do you like music?”

“Oh. Um… I’d like that. I mean, yes, I like music, and yes, I’d like to have dinner with you.”

The way he looks at me… the relief in his eyes stark as though he feared I might say no.

“How about we take a pause on the questions, and you go get ready for dinner. I’ll make a reservation for us. Meet back here, in the lobby, in two hours?”

I nod. “Okay.”For somebody who works with wordsevery day, my vocabulary is suddenly limited tovery simpleones.

He stands, takes my hand, and pulls me to my feet.

I stumble and slam into his chest, a tiny puff of air slipping between my lips.

He holds me there for a moment before releasing me. But inthat couple ofseconds, I feel his heart thudding against mine. The warmth of his body heats mine. Our breaths mingle until I’m unsure if I’m breathing him in or he’s breathing me in. We stare into each other’s eyes. In my adult life, I’ve never experienced a moment of such clear understanding between two people that, without words, could be so profound.

I want him.

And he wants me.

“I won’t—”I have to clear my throat. “I won’t take long.”I step back, andinstantlythe loss of his touch leaves me wishing he’d wrap his arms around me and hold me against him forever.

“Take as long as you need.”

“What should I wear?”

His eyes widen, and his gaze slowly travels down my body. He swallows hard. “Something nice.”

I finally drag my attention away and head to the elevator while Spencer slowly strolls over to the concierge. He’s watching me. I can feel it, but I don’t turn to confirm my suspicion. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long. When the elevator doors close, I collapse against the back wall, my hand to my throat, my eyes squeezed tight while I contemplate what just happened.

A giggle escapes. When I agreed to do this interview, I looked him up. The images I found didn’t do him justice. The accompanying articles even less so. The man does not match the label that’s been attached to him.

As the elevator begins its flight to my floor, I can’t help but replay the moment we just shared. The warmth of his body, the steady thrum of his heart so close to mine, and the way his eyes searched my soul. With the cool metal on my back, I press my hand to my chest to keep my heart from pounding right out of it. Giddy laughter escapes my lips, echoing softly in the confined space.

Spencer Hollis likes me.

And, heaven help me, I like him too.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft ding, and I step out, my low heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Imake my waydown the hallway, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

What should I wear?

How should I do my hair?

Should I wear my contacts instead of my glasses?

I pause outside my room, taking a deep breath before sliding the key card into the slot. The green light blinks, and I push the door open, stepping into my suite’s calm, quiet sanctuary. Leaning back against the door, I close my eyes for a moment.

This is crazy. I’m here to do a job, not fall for the subject of my story.

But Spencer isn’t just a subject anymore.He’sa man with depth, vulnerabilities, and aheart that beats wildly when we touch. I open my eyes, determination coursing through me. I’m going to enjoy every moment of this night.

I push off from the door and head to the closet, flipping through the hangers until I find the one really nice dress I thought to bring. It’s a deep blue, the color of Spencer’s eyes, with a neckline that dips just low enough to be alluring without being overt. I lay it out on the bed, then head to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let the water heat up.

As I step under the spray, the warm water cascades over my body, and I can’t help but imagine his hands on me, his fingers tracing my curves. I close my eyes, letting the fantasy play out in my mind. His touch would be gentle, his lips soft. Despite the water’s heat, I shiver, anticipation for the evening building.

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