The elevator stopped.
She stepped into the hallway barefoot, holding both heels now.
The Single Dad remained close without touching.
Halfway to the suite, she swayed.
His arm circled her waist again.
Her hand went instinctively to his chest.
They stopped.
The corridor was silent except for rain striking distant windows.
Her suite door was three feet away.
The CEO looked up at him.
He became suddenly aware of everything.
Her wet satin dress.
His hand at her waist.
Her fingers curled lightly into his plaid shirt.
The warmth of her body through damp fabric.
The fact that she was his CEO.
The fact that he was a widower who had not held a woman this close in years.
He loosened his grip immediately.
“You steady?”
“Yes.”
He removed his coat and draped it around her shoulders.
The coat almost swallowed the thin white dress.
She looked down at it.
Then at him.
“You’re soaked too.”
“I own more shirts.”
She did not move.
Neither did he.
Something changed in her expression.
The hard executive composure softened.
For the first time that night, she looked less like a CEO and more like a tired woman standing far too close to a man who had just seen her at her worst.
“You knew who I was.”
she said.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t say anything.”
“You looked like you needed sugar more than recognition.”
She gave him a small smile.
“That was almost charming.”
“Almost?”
“Don’t get ambitious.”
He laughed.
Then stepped back.
“Get some sleep.”
Her hand tightened in his shirt.
He stopped.
The corridor became suddenly smaller.
The CEO looked directly into his eyes.
Her voice lowered.
“You’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“You always run when women touch you?”
He almost laughed.
“Usually they aren’t my CEO.”
“Tonight?”
He looked at her.
“Tonight you’re exhausted.”
Her expression shifted.
Not offended.
Interested.
He continued:
“And tomorrow you can decide whether you actually wanted to flirt with the guy who smelled like pipe sealant.”
She stepped a fraction closer.
“I know what I’m saying.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why are you moving away?”
“Because believing you and taking advantage of tonight are different things.”
Silence.
She studied him.
His eyes did not drop toward the neckline of her satin dress.
That somehow affected her more than if they had.
She lifted one hand to his jaw.
The Single Dad’s breathing changed.
She noticed.
“You’re not completely unaffected.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He smiled despite himself.
Her thumb brushed his beard.
For one dangerous second, he imagined kissing her.
He wanted to.
That surprised him more than anything.
He had dated exactly twice since his wife died.
Neither relationship survived more than a few months.
He was too tired.
Too cautious.
Too used to structuring his entire life around a child who had already lost one parent.
Yet standing beneath a hotel hallway light with rain rattling glass thirty feet away, he wanted the woman in front of him badly enough that walking away required deliberate effort.
He leaned down.
Not to kiss her.
He rested his forehead against hers.
Her breath caught.
“If you still want this tomorrow,” he whispered, “ask me when you’ve slept and eaten.”
Her fingers curled harder into his shirt.
“You assume I’ll forget.”