by Katie Fox
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.
ELLE CALLIHAN WAS a liar.
She did snore. But it wasn't a loud obnoxious snoring that kept you from falling asleep at night or had you plastering your pillow over your head in hopes of blocking out the sound. No. Her snoring was soft, her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow waves. A few times I even found myself drifting off to the peacefulness it seemed to provide, the little white noise that allowed my mind to focus on something else other than my life and what had become of it. But then I'd look at her. I’d trace the lines of her face, the angle of her jaw and the curve of her lips, the gentle slope of her neck and the sculpted line of her collarbone, and finally her delicate shoulders where the thin strap of her pajama top had slipped down her arm.
Three times I had reached out, hooking my fingers underneath it and gently sliding it back where it belonged. The heat of her skin, the softness of it that would graze my fingertips, kept me in that place—that place where I didn't think about the consequences of us being together or how selfish it was of me to want her, because I did want her. Not just her body but her. I wanted her smiles and her laughter. I wanted to know her hopes and dreams, her fears. I wanted to know the taste of her and the way my name sounded as it floated from her mouth in a moment of ecstasy. But then I’d be reminded that sometimes in life we want things we were never meant to have.
And Elle was one of them.
Getting up from the bed, I walked over to the sliding doors that led out to the balcony. It was still dark, in and outside of the room, and I pulled the curtain aside, resting my forearm along the adjacent wall and running my thumb back and forth across my forehead as I stared out at the early morning sky. The view was different from the one I was accustomed to seeing out of my office window, and I thought of Elle’s words from the previous day. She had been right. The atmosphere was different. Nothing seemed to matter as much here as it did back home.
Sighing, I allowed the curtain to drop from my fingers and glanced back at Elle. Asleep on her side, she looked so peaceful. Her hands were tucked beneath her cheek, and her blonde locks splayed out in every direction around her. She was a sight to behold, and seeing her lying there had me eager to return to the bed, to slide in beside her, and pull her into my chest. If only once, I wanted to know what it was like to have her wrapped up in my arms.
Don’t go there, Owen. Just don’t.
Shaking away the thought, I turned my head, catching a glimpse of the notebook I’d seen Elle writing in on numerous occasions, and without any command from me, my feet carried me toward the round table in the corner of the room. If it were a diary, I wouldn’t read it. I wasn’t one to invade anyone’s privacy, but my curiosity go
t the best of me. Pulling out one of the chairs, I sat on it and opened to the first page.
What was this?
I read the words scrawled along the lines, and by the time I reached the second paragraph, I realized it was a manuscript. A manuscript written by none other than Elle. My eyes snapped back to where she was still sound asleep, and my breath left my lungs all at once as everything slowly pieced itself together. Had this been the dream she’d referred to that very first day in her interview?
Of course.
She hadn’t come to Caldwell Publishing with the hopes of publishing other people’s stories. She wanted to write and publish her own.
Closing the notebook, I stood from my chair and walked over to my suitcase, hesitating momentarily, and then made a hasty decision and tucked it safely inside. I couldn’t not read it, and there was no way I’d get through it in its entirety before Elle awoke. Collecting my clothes for the day, I ducked into the bathroom, quickly showering and getting dressed, and then quietly slipped out of the room. Continental breakfast was served near the lobby, and I grabbed two coffees, frowning as I realized I didn’t know how Elle liked to drink hers. She always brought the coffee, and I never took the time or effort to learn. Shaking away my disappointment, I stuffed a handful of sugar packets and creamers into a to-go cup and placed an array of pastries onto a plate. I jumped back in the elevator, a small smirk on my face at the prospect that she might still be asleep beneath the covers. I wasn’t sure I’d have the heart to wake her if she was, but this was a huge opportunity for her, especially if she was serious about writing.
Stepping back into the room and hearing the shower running, I set the plate of muffins and Danishes on the dresser and glanced over at the clock. We had forty-five minutes until the first panel started, and really, I needed to be down there much earlier, seeing as I was the moderator. Hot steam billowed from the crack beneath the bathroom door, and I walked over to it, tapping my knuckles against the wood and trying so damn hard not to imagine Elle naked on the other side.