DECIDING I’D TAKE Owen up on his suggestion, I slipped into my bathing suit and ventured down to the hotel pool. The smell of chlorine was thick in the air as I walked through the set of double glass doors, my flip-flops slapping against the soles of my feet and the stone tile as I made my way toward an available lounger. I set my towel down and removed my yellow sundress, folding it neatly and placing it on the small wicker table beside the chair, before grabbing my phone and sending Drew another text. We had been going back and forth for the last hour, exchanging updates about the men in our lives. He had recently started seeing someone older—much older, twenty years older to be exact—but he was happy, and besides, who was I to judge? I was secretly crushing on my boss, dreaming of all the different ways we could utilize his desk that didn’t pertain to business.
It was becoming a problem.
A real problem.
Telling Drew I’d catch him later, I set my phone down and gathered my hair from my shoulders, tying it back in a high ponytail on the top of my head. My eyes flashed to the pool—to the crystal-clear water and the few people wading without care, causing a ripple of soft waves to form on its surface—and a sudden onset of insecurity bubbled in my stomach.
Dressed in designer swimsuits and their skin perfectly bronzed, the gorgeous women reminded me how well the other half lived. I allowed my eyes to linger, wondering what it must be like to be them, money not being any concern. The wage I earned at Caldwell Publishing paid my bills, and it allowed me to send extra money to my parents, who were still months behind in everything, but I’d have been lying if I’d said I didn’t want for more.
I was a dreamer—always had been—I was just afraid of losing what that dream might cost to achieve.
Swallowing what was turning into a mini anxiety attack, I adjusted the strings on my department store bikini, making sure there were no parts of my body showing that shouldn’t be.
“The water looks inviting, doesn’t it?”
My head shot up at the deep, unfamiliar voice, and I nearly jumped right out of my skin, my eyes widening at his unexpected closeness.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.” The stranger held his hand out, a charming smile on his face, revealing a dimple at the corner of his mouth. “Liam Nickelson.”
I placed my hand in his, noticing the way mine looked so dainty in the center of his huge palm. “Elle—” I cleared my throat, pulling myself together so I didn't look like a total lunatic. “Elle Callihan.”
“Nice to meet you, Elle.” He set his towel on the lounger beside mine before reaching behind his head and grabbing at the collar of his shirt, dragging it over his strong shoulders and freeing it completely from his upper body.
My eyes immediately went there, the toned muscle and ripped abs that resembled the guys on the surfer magazines I’d spent far too long ogling in the refreshment shop near the lobby, and I mentally adjusted myself, snapping my jaw shut and my eyes back to his.
Blue.
His eyes were blue. And his hair was brown with dusted tips of blond. He had to be a California native; I was sure of it.
“Seeing as you're here at the hotel, I think it's safe to assume you're not from around here. What brings you to L.A.?”
I licked my lips, wondering how much information I wanted to share with this man. “I'm here on business. There is a publishing convention this weekend and—”
“Really? You're here for the convention? Which firm are you with?”
“Caldwell.”
“Caldwell?” His brows narrowed. “No shit.” He placed his hands on his hips, studying me. “Wait a minute.” His mouth twitched into a smile as realization, or what appeared to be realization, dawned. “Elle Callihan. You’re Owen’s Elle.”
Owen’s Elle.
My heart skipped a beat at those two words, my mind not even processing the fact that he suddenly knew who I was and who I was here with. I forced myself out of dreamland. “You know Owen?”
He laughed, not in a condescending way but in a way that said he was surprised I didn't know who he was. “Yeah. I guess you can say that. He’s my boss. I’m the lead marketing director for the L.A. office. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Elle. Owen’s told us all so much about you.”
Lead marketing direc—
Holy. Shit.
If my skin wasn't a walking advertisement for sunscreen, I was sure every inch of my flesh would've turned pale white. I lifted my chin, shock dancing across my face in every possible form. “You are? He…he has?”
Jesus, Elle. Now you sound like a bumbling idiot. This is one of the men you are supposed to be presenting to tomorrow evening, and you can’t even manage to string full sentences together.
Combing a hand through his hair, the muscles in his biceps flexing with the movement, he nodded. “Yeah. We’re looking forward to your presentation and hearing your thoughts. Owen spoke pretty highly of you. He always does.”
Oh God.
I was going to be sick. He needed to stop. I didn’t want to know what kind of expectations any of them had, especially not Owen. Definitely not Owen. “I, um…” I reached down, grabbing my sundress from where it sat neatly folded on the table and slipped it over my head. I needed to leave before I said something wrong or made myself look like an incompetent ass. “I’ve just remembered I have something I need to do.” I picked up my phone, holding it tightly between my fingers as I held out my free hand for him to shake for a second time. “It was really nice meeting you, Mr. Nickelson.”
“Liam. Please.”
“Liam.” Smiling politely and lifting my hand in a small wave, I started past his half-naked frame, my head turning over my shoulder to catch one last glance. “Guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”
“Absolutely. Looking forward to it.”
Flashing him another smile, I turned around and quickly hurried in the direction of the double doors, pushing through them and navigating myself around the hallways until I reached the elevators that took me to the eighth floor.
When I made it back to our room, I changed out of my bathing suit and into a pair of jeans and a tank top before grabbing the menu for room service. My food arrived a short time later, and as I sat at the table eating, my notebook and pen beside me, my thoughts drifted to Owen and the words Millie had said to me nearly seven weeks ago. Owen’s and my conversation on the balcony that morning had only reinforced the fact that maybe she was right: maybe he was in need of a friend.
Picking up my phone, I typed a quick message, my thumb hovering over the send button and my bottom lip caught between my teeth. I rolled my eyes, convincing myself to press the damn button. He was in a meeting. Chances were, he wasn’t going to respond anyway.
I hope your meeting is going okay.
Much to my surprise, the three little dots appeared before I even re-locked my screen, and I waited with an anxiousness in my stomach.
Owen: Would be going much better if you were here.
My heart fluttered. The corners of my lips tugged into a huge grin. How did he have the ability to twist me into knots when he wasn’t even near? I stared at his message for far too long, analyzing his words, picking them apart, and wondering if I was turning them into something they most likely weren't.
My phone pinged with another incoming text.
Owen: Are you okay? Have you eaten yet? I’m sorry I had to leave you by yourself today.
I smiled at his concern and typed out a reply.
Yes, I have. My stomach thanks you :) And it’s okay. Work calls. I get it.
I did get it, but there was a part of me that selfishly hoped I'd have him to myself this weekend, at least for a portion of it.
Owen: Did you get a chance to check out the pool?
Swirling my fork around my fettuccine, I brought it to my mouth and took a bite before sending another message. I debated on whether to mention that I’d seen Liam there, but what was the point? I was officially meeting everyone tomorrow, and it wasn’t like there was a lot said between us anyway.
I did, but I didn't stay. Decided to come back to the room and order a movie instead.
His next response came through almost immediately, and my cheeks warmed, knowing he was more interested in what I was doing than his meeting.
Owen: Watching anything good?
Not yet. Still looking.
There was a delay this time, and I hated the idea that our conversation might be ending soon, so I typed out another message only to regret it the moment I pressed send.
I wish you were here. It's boring without you.
Those three dots appeared again, and my heart beat at an irregular pace.
Owen: You missing me, Elle?
My mouth went dry. Was that a trick question? Had he meant that in a teasing manner or was he being serious? Stupid text messages and their inability to convey emotion. Couldn't he have put an emoji on the end or something? A heavy sigh floated from my chest. Either way, the answer was yes. Yes, I missed him, but I felt uncomfortable admitting that truth, especially to him of all people.
Thankfully, I didn't have to.
He sent another text.
Owen: I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to let you go. Unfortunately, this meeting is an important one that needs my attention. Enjoy your movie. It will probably be late once I get back to the room. Don't wait up.
Sending him a simple “Okay,” I set my phone down on the table, a bit deflated by his response. God, now I was being ridiculous. What had I expected him to say? He missed me, too?
Rolling my eyes at myself and figuring I was no longer interested in watching a movie after all, I flipped open my notebook, determined to finish the handful of chapters I had left to write before bed. My first manuscript was nearly finished, and the idea filled me with equal parts excitement and fear. I had poured everything into the story—my blood, sweat, and tears—and the idea of sharing it with anyone scared the hell out of me. I didn’t have the money to invest in self-publishing, but looking for a literary agent was a daunting task that I wasn’t sure I had the patience to endure. And even so, if I found someone who was willing to give it a read and give it a deal, it didn’t guarantee that I’d be selling books. Publishing a book was as much a risk as anything else, and I needed a reliable, steady income. I had too many people counting on me to focus on a dream that only promised enjoyment at the moment.
Unfortunately, enjoyment didn’t pay rent or save parents’ restaurants from foreclosure. Enjoyment was too much of a gamble.
All these thoughts weighed too heavily on my mind for me to be able to focus, and slapping my notebook closed, I pushed it away in silent frustration. Would I ever be the author behind the words? Or would I forever be Elle Callihan, the girl with a dream who was too frightened to chase it?
When Owen arrived at the room later that evening, I was in the middle of getting ready for bed. He walked through the door at the same time I walked out of the bathroom, and we both stopped, my breath seizing at his sudden and unexpected appearance.
His eyes roamed over my pajama-clad body. The thin blue silk clung to my every curve, and Owen dipped his chin, his hooded gaze burning a path of heat over my chest. A layer of goose bumps rose on my skin, and the tips of my breasts tightened against the delicate lace of my bra. I brushed my hands along my arms, swallowing at the intensity of his stare.
Everything about Owen was intense, but the hint of desire swirling behind his green eyes matched the needy sensation swimming low in my stomach, and I dragged in a deep breath attempting to eliminate the building tension.
“How was your meeting?”
Owen’s gaze jumped back to my face. “It was good. Thank you.” A frown pulled at his brow. “You’re still awake.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Was just getting ready for bed.” We played a brief game of silent dancing as we sidestepped around each other, our bodies mere inches apart and my breath held high in my lungs. I spun around leaving him in the doorway of the bathroom as I made my way over to the cot that I had set up on the other side of the room.
“Elle.”
My feet stopped, my toes curling into the plush threads of the carpet as I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
He tugged at his tie, loosening it from its perfectly formed knot, and there was something so incredibly sexy about the way he slid it from around his neck. My heart started to thump harder as he shrugged his suit jacket from his shoulders, his fingers coming up to deftly undo the top button on the collar of his shirt. “Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the cot.”
I looked over at the bed and then down at the small twin-sized mattress that clearly wasn’t large enough to accommodate his tall frame. “Are you sure? I really don’t mind—”
“Yeah. I’m sure. You have a big day tomorrow. And you were right, I don’t sleep well and a massive mattress with expensive bedding isn’t going to change that.”
My chest ached at the words that left his mouth. “Okay. Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m positive.”
He gave me a tight smile before collecting his suitcase from the floor and ducking into the bathroom, and I moved from where I stood over to the king-sized bed. Pulling back the duvet, I slipped beneath the sheets, the material cool and soft against my bare legs. The sound of the water running in the bathroom filled the otherwise quiet room, and I waited with a stomach full of butterflies for Owen to reappear. He did minutes later, dressed in nothing more than a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, and I tried so damn hard to keep my eyes on anything but him.
It didn’t work.
My gaze was hooked on the beautiful man before me—his broad shoulders and strong arms, the chest full of lean muscle that was the obvious result of a vigorous workout routine. The waistband of his bottoms sat low on his hips, revealing the dark trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared beneath the black elastic of his boxers, and my eyes lingered far too long on that spot, the ridges of his abs and the hard cut of muscle on either side of his lower torso that made most women incoherently stupid. There was no way in hell I was going to get any sleep that night.
No. Way. In. Hell.
It was only as he dragged back the covers on the cot and sat down, swinging his legs up on the thin mattress, that I found myself finally able to concentrate on something else. A dot on the ceiling. There was a black dot on the ceiling. How did it get up there? Had someone been lying in this same bed, unable to sleep an—
“Elle, would you mind turning off the lamp beside you, please?”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Sitting up, I leaned over and flicked the switch on the lamp on the wall before scooting back down and attempting to return my eyes to the dot that now had been obscured by darkness.
Great. Now what the hell am I supposed to focus on.
For the next twenty minutes, I lay still, my eyes closed but my mind wide-awake with thoughts of the next day. What if I blew it? Owen was counting on me, and after running into Liam and learning of the high expectations Owen had of me, what if I couldn’t live up to them? Insecurity led to doubt, which led to the current cycle I found myself in. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to win any of these people over, and that alone made me want to hide out in the hotel room all day.
I considered it.
Owen didn’t need me, did he? I was an assistant after all. My job consisted of looking over open-submission query letters and performing the work he didn’t have the patience to complete. I could wake up and pretend to be sick.
Tired but unable to fall asleep, I rolled onto my side, glancing over at Owen.
Was he still awake? If so, what was running through his mind? Was he thinking about the morning? Was he thinking about me?
He was the last thought, my only thought, as I started to drift off, exhaustion finally taking me. My short slumber lasted a few seconds, however, before the sound of springs creaking ripped me back to the dark but otherwise quiet room.
Owen shifted on the cot. He was awake. He turned again and the springs creaked for a second time, and I pushed up on my elbows, calling out to him.
“Owen.”
There was a long drawn-out pause before he answered. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Sort of. Not exactly. Yes.” I wasn’t making any sense, was I? Sighing, I blurted out my next words with no forethought on how they might sound. “Come join me in the bed.”
He froze. “What?”
Nice, Elle. Now you're really freaking him out.
The duvet tumbled from my chest to my lap as I sat the rest of the way up. “Every time you move, the springs creak on the cot and I can’t fall asleep.” I licked my lips, hopeful he couldn’t detect the nervousness in my voice. “The bed is big enough for the both of us, so for the sake of a decent night’s sleep, would you please come and join me?”
A sliver of moonlight sliced through the panels of the curtains, and I waited to see if he would move or reject my offer. I fully expected a rejection. He had been adamant that we not share a room, and now here I was offering to share a bed.
Maybe I was crazy.
Not saying anything at all, Owen sat up. His hand slid through his hair as he rose to his feet and crossed the length of the hotel room, making his way over to the side of the bed that had been untouched. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he pulled back the covers and lay down beside me, and I inched down so my head once again rested on the pillow.
My eyes were attuned to the darkness, my ears aware of every breath and every sound in the room, and my heart raced. It pounded against my ribs, and I was sure with Owen’s proximity, he could hear its loud chaotic beats.
I chanced a glance in his direction, gingerly turning my head to make sure he was actually beside me and it wasn’t my mind dreaming.
As if he could sense my eyes on him, Owen rolled onto his side, facing me. His chest rose on an inhale, and as he blew the air back out through slightly parted lips, he quirked a brow. “A penny for your thoughts?”
My lips tugged into a smile, and I shifted until my entire body mimicked his position. One hand resting between the pillow and my cheek, I used the other to absentmindedly trace the white thread on the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets. “I’m nervous about tomorrow.” I paused, thinking about my run-in with Liam. “I’m afraid I’m going to screw it up and I’m going to disappoint you.”
He laughed as if what I said was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Yeah. That’s not going to happen.”
“How are you so sure? How can you have so much confidence in me when I don’t have it in myself?”
Owen reached over and as his hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, my entire body melted beneath his gentle touch. His eyes held mine, open and honest. “Be yourself. Be the Elle I know, the one who speaks with passion born right from her heart, and you’ll blow them out of the water. I promise you.”
I pulled in a shaky breath through my nose and glanced down at the fascinating thread on the sheets. How did he do that? How did he have the power to chase away all my fears, yet create my biggest one of all?
I think I may be falling for you, Owen Caldwell.
His hand lingered on my face, and I swear the space between us grew smaller, but there was a good chance my lack of depth perception was a result of my overactive imagination.
“Anything else running through your mind I should know about?”
My gaze flicked to his.
I shook my head, and as I did, his thumb moved, slowly tracing the curve of my lower lip, his narrowed gaze following the same path. Closing my eyes and wishing it were his lips or even his tongue doing the tracing, I relished the feel of his rough hands on my skin—the scent of his body wash as it filled the sheets and the air around me.
His voice came on a soft whisper. “Get some sleep, Elle. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Owen’s thumb made one final pass over my lips before trailing along my jaw and then pulling away completely, and I did as he commanded. With the warmth of his body beside me, wrapping me up in its own blanket of comfort, I drifted off, dreaming of a world where the idea of there being an “us” didn’t seem so impossible.