Page 11 of When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars 9)

“It won’t happen again.”

* * *

Olivia was furious with hers

elf. She hadn’t been thinking clearly for days, but that was no excuse for the way she’d attacked him. Some superhero she’d turned out to be. A crusader for justice? How about a dispenser of injustice. She’d known Alyssa wasn’t always reliable, and even drunk, she shouldn’t have attacked someone without verifying the facts. Adam was already on her conscience, and she didn’t need another transgression to add to her list of misdeeds. She had to apologize immediately.

She paced the living room waiting for him to get back from the gym. Eventually, the door opened. She tried to form exactly the right words, but before she could utter a single one, he’d strode past her as if she didn’t exist and disappeared into his bedroom.

She started pacing again. This was torturous. She pressed her ear to his door and heard the shower water stop running. She hurried to the closest couch, kicked off her flats, and picked up a magazine.

No one liked to admit when she’d been wrong, but this was a big wrong, and it had to be righted. Once this was over, she could only hope he didn’t believe in holding a grudge.

She tugged at the knee of her yoga pants, turned a page of the magazine without having read a word. His door finally opened.

When she’d seen him only as a sexual predator, his off-the-chart good looks had been an insult. But now? He wore a dark blue blazer, faded jeans, a gray T-shirt, and he might be the handsomest man she’d ever met. Thick dark hair, dazzling green eyes set off with dark brows and full lashes, cheekbones that hit the sweet spot between too sharp and too blunt. His top and bottom lips were perfect. If she’d been born with his looks instead of being saddled with her own strong features, she might have had an easier time of it. All that perfection was wasted on a man who threw footballs for a living.

She’d lost precious seconds ruminating over what couldn’t be changed, and he was nearly at the door. She jumped up from the couch. “I need to talk to you.”

It was as if he hadn’t heard her.

“Wait!”

The hotel room door shut behind him. She shot across the room and out into the hallway. “Mr. Owens! Thad! Wait!”

He continued his march to the elevator.

“Thad!”

The doors slid open and he stepped between them. She just made it inside before they closed.

He punched the button for the lobby without a glance in her direction. The elevator began to descend. “Thad, I want to apologize. I—”

The elevator slid to a stop, and an elderly couple got on. They smiled automatically, and then the woman took a closer look at Olivia.

Please, no.

“Olivia Shore! Oh, my goodness! Is it really you? We heard you sing Princess Eboli in Don Carlos last year in Boston. You were amazing!”

“Thank you.”

Her husband piped in. “‘O don fatale.’ That high B-flat. Unforgettable!”

“I can’t believe we’re meeting you in person,” the woman gushed. “Are you performing here?”

“No, I’m not.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby. Thad strode out ahead of the older couple. Olivia could see they were eager to engage her in a longer conversation. She quickly excused herself and hurried after him.

As the cold marble tiles of the lobby hit her bare feet, she remembered her flats lying next to the couch in the suite. Owens clearly didn’t want to talk to her, and she should turn back, but the idea of carrying this weight any longer was worse than the embarrassment of going after him.

He exited through the center front door. Guests turned to look at her as she rushed barefooted across the lobby. Outside, the first taxi in line had its door open, and Owens was speaking to the driver as he got in. She abandoned what was left of her dignity, sprinted toward the car, grabbed the door, threw herself in . . .

And fell right on top of him.

It was like landing on a bag of cement.

The hotel doorman hadn’t seen her awkward leap. He closed the car door and gestured for the taxi to move forward to make room for the next car. The cabdriver gazed at them in the rearview mirror with eyes that had seen it all, shrugged, and pulled away.

---