“Hey, Zach. Delivery for you.”
I looked up from the conference table and saw Gwyn, the front desk receptionist, enter the room carrying a white plastic grocery bag.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It just arrived.” She set it in front of me. “Jackson said to tell you he’ll be here in a minute. He’s finishing up a call.”
“Okay. Thanks.” I studied the bag for a second, then untied the handles. As soon as I peeked inside, I smiled. Then I pulled out a box of ginger tea, a plastic bear filled with honey, and a box of something called Assorted Aromatherapy Shower Bombs.
Shower bombs? What the fuck?
“Hey, Gramps.” Jackson strolled into the room, laptop under his arm, and dropped into the chair across from me. “Gwyn said you got a delivery.”
“Nothing.” Quickly, I shoved the items back in the bag.
“Come on, let me see.” He snatched the bag from my hands and looked into it. “Awww. A care package! Who’s it from?”
I set my jaw and folded my arms over my chest.
“What do we have here? Tea.” He placed the box of tea on the table. “And honey—isn’t that sweet?” He held up the bear and made it dance a little, then set it next to the tea. “And . . .” He pulled out the red box. “Aromatherapy shower bombs? What the hell are those?”
“I have no idea.”
He flipped the box over and read in an overdramatic voice. “The ultimate in self-care. Shower fizzies with essential oils in six stress-melting, pleasure-inducing scents: peppermint, vanilla rose, eucalyptus, lavender, coconut, and jasmine honeysuckle.” He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Pleasure-inducing? Who sent you this box of pleasure?”
“None of your business,” I snapped.
“Let me guess. Your secret girlfriend.”
I rolled my eyes. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend.”
“I don’t have any friends that send me fizzing pleasure scented like coconut.”
I stood up and grabbed the bag from him, stuffing everything back inside it. “She knows I’m sick. She’s being nice.”
“How does she know you’re sick?”
Sitting down again, I set the bag at my feet. “Because we’ve talked on the phone a couple times this week. And before you come at me, it’s nothing inappropriate. We’re just friends.”
Jackson held up his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“But I know what you’re thinking, and you can just stop thinking it.”
A few other Cole Security employees entered the room, putting an end to the discussion, which I was glad about. What I’d told Jackson was true—Millie and I were just friends, and our conversations the past two nights had been totally appropriate.
My thoughts about her after we hung up were a different matter entirely. In fact, given how hard I was finding it to put her out of my head, I knew talking with her every night was probably a terrible idea.
And yet I called her as soon as I got home, even though it was after one a.m. her time.
“Hello?” She sounded sleepy.
“Hey,” I said, dropping onto my couch. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I just got home from a job. Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay. How are you feeling?”
“Better today. I think it was the tea and honey someone sent me.”
She laughed, a lazy, sexy sound that sent a bolt of heat through me. “Wonder who that could be.”
“I don’t know. They also sent me a box of shower bombs, which sound terrifying.”
“Did you try one yet?”
“No. But I drank some tea.”
“Next time you take a shower, use one of those bombs. They smell really good. And the steam will be good for the congestion.”
“You use those bomb things?”
“Yes. My favorite is the jasmine honeysuckle.”
“Does it smell like you?”
She was silent a few seconds. “It might.”
Now I was picturing her in the shower. Great. I cleared my throat and steered back to a safer topic—gratitude. “Thank you. Really. That was sweet.”
“You’re welcome. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“But when you’re sick, it’s nice to be taken care of, isn’t it?”
“By you, it would be.”
Then she went silent.
I exhaled. “I’m sorry, Millie. I keep saying shit I know I shouldn’t.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m doing the same. Being just friends is hard after you’ve . . . been more.”
“Let’s try again—how was your day?”
“Good.” She told me about speaking to a commercial real estate agent, and her voice grew more animated as she gave me some details about one of the places she was going to see tomorrow morning. “I’m also seeing some on Sunday, and a couple early next week, but I really have my hopes pinned on this one building.” She sighed. “Which is probably a mistake, because it’s got the steepest rent, and it’s not even the largest space.”
“Well, no harm in looking, is there?”
“There’s harm if I fall in love with it! What if I get in there and it’s the perfect fit, but I can’t have it?”
“If it’s the perfect fit, I bet you’ll find a way to have it.”
“Yeah,” she said, but she sounded a little sad. “Maybe. I hope so.”
“I should let you get back to sleep. I’m sure you’re tired.”
“I’m a little tired,” she admitted. “We had a wedding tonight, and it ran later than usual. That’s one thing I won’t miss—the late nights at work. Being busy pretty much every Friday and Saturday. Makes it hard to have a social life.”
“Yeah.” But suddenly I thought of her out on dates or having cocktails with her sisters or friends in a bar, every guy in the place staring at her. I clenched my teeth. “Let me know how it goes with the building.”
“I will.” She paused, then laughed. “I was about to tell you to let me know how it goes in the shower, but . . .”
I laughed too. “My shower will be lonely.”
Her laughter faded. “God, Zach. This is even harder than I thought it would be.”
“I know.”
Neither of us said anything for a few seconds.
“Goodnight, Zach.”
“Night.”
I went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She’d said her favorite was the jasmine honeysuckle, so I unwrapped that tablet and placed it on the tile. As I undressed, I thought about her. While I stood beneath the spray inhaling the sweet floral scent, I thought about her. With my hand wrapped around my cock, working up and down its hard length, I thought about her.
I didn’t know how to stop.
After I got out of the gym on Sunday, I noticed a text from her. It was ridiculous the way my heart raced when I saw her name.
I SAW MY SHOP!
As soon as I got behind the wheel, I called her.
“I saw it!” she said, sounding out of breath. “I saw my shop!”
I smiled at her excitement. “Yeah? Which one?”
“The historic building. It needs work for sure, but the moment I saw it I had a feeling, and then when I stepped inside I got chills. I just knew.”
“You gotta trust that feeling. What kind of work does it need?”
“I need to tear everything out that’s in there now and configure it the way I want it. I’ll need to put in dressing rooms, a riser and mirrors for fittings, a seating area, a reception counter, new lighting. I love the original floors, but they need to be refinished, some painting needs to be done, and there was a plumbing problem that damaged one wall, but my dad thinks it could all be done within a month or so. He came with me to see it, which was good because I’ll need his help for a lot of the work. He’s really handy.”
A jolt of envy shot through me. I was handy too. If I was there, I could do things for her—the floors maybe, or the painting, or construct those fitting rooms. Install her computers. And a security system. I could carry heavy boxes or lift furniture or even just keep her company. She wouldn’t need another man.
Great, now I was jealous of her dad. As if I wasn’t officially an asshole before. “A month or so? That’s not bad.”
“Not at all. And January will be the perfect time to open. Now I’m reaching out to designers to see when I might be able to get sample dresses and veils. And did I tell you I spoke to my boss at Cloverleigh about leaving?”
“No. How did it go?”
“Amazing. I was so nervous, but she was really supportive and understanding—she agrees that I should do this.”
“So when will you stop working?”
“Probably at the end of October. My sister Winnie will take over for me here, and she wanted to give her boss at least a few weeks’ notice.”
“You sound so happy,” I said, picturing her smiling face. Why was it making my chest hurt?
“I am. Thank you for telling me to trust my gut. I kept hearing your voice when I was walking through the space, encouraging me to go for it.”
“I want to see you,” I blurted.
She was stunned silent. “Huh?”
“I want to see you.” The words tumbled out quickly. “I have another job in New York this week. Meet me there.”
“Zach, I—”
“Please, Millie. I can’t stop thinking about you. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” she whispered.
“We’re not hurting anyone. No one will know. We’ll just blend in with the crowd in Manhattan. Or hide out in my hotel room. I don’t care—I just want to see you again.”
“What days will you be there?”
“I leave tomorrow and I’ll be there until Friday. Even if you can only come out there for one night. I’ll buy your ticket. Whatever it takes. Just come.”
She was silent for a moment. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I’ll come.”
On Monday evening, I heard a knock on my hotel room door. I knew it was Millie because she’d texted me to let me know she’d arrived just minutes ago. But the knock surprised me because I’d left her name at the front desk and instructed them to give her a key.
My pulse quickened as I went to the door and pulled it open. But that was nothing compared to what my heart did when I saw her standing there in the hall.
“Hi,” she whispered with a shy smile.
“Get in here.” I grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the room, and it was almost like our first night together all over again. Our bodies came together, mouths seeking, hands clutching. She dropped her bag and I kicked the door shut. Within minutes, clothes were flying and we tumbled onto the mattress. And with only slightly more patience and finesse than I’d managed to have on her living room floor, I indulged in her body like I’d been dreaming about every night since we’d been apart. I couldn’t believe it had only been a week.
When it was over, I rolled to my back, and we lay panting on top of the comforter, side by side. Somehow my left hand found her right, and I wrapped my fingers around hers. “God, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” Her head turned toward me. “I almost didn’t get on the plane.”
I brought her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Why?”
“I lied to my sisters. I never do that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” She smiled. “It’s so good to see you. And be with you. I’m not going to think about anything else.”
“Good. Hey, didn’t they give you a key down there?”
“Yes. I just didn’t feel right using it.”
I laughed, turning onto my side. “Why not?”
“I don’t know.” Her grin was shy and adorable. “It’s your room.”
“It’s our room.” I pressed my lips to hers. “And for the next two nights, I’m only leaving it when I absolutely have to.”
“I wish I had more time. But I have to be back Wednesday afternoon.”
“It’s fine. We’ll make very good use of the time we’ve got.”
We ordered room service and watched Antiques Roadshow while we waited for it to be delivered. Sitting there with her, wearing thick hotel robes, my back propped against the headboard, her back resting against my chest, our bare feet crossed at the ankles side by side . . . I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so at ease with someone. Or with myself.
“Ooooh look at that necklace,” Millie said dreamily.
I studied the necklace on the screen and listened to what the appraiser was saying about it.
“This is a fourteen karat white gold vintage lavaliere-style diamond pendant from the 1920s,” he told the woman who’d inherited it from her aunt. “The pendant is in beautiful condition, only slightly worn, with an intricate Art Deco filigree design.”
“I love Art Deco jewelry,” she said with a sigh. “So pretty.”
“It would look gorgeous on you,” I told her.
Turns out, the thing was worth over a grand, which made Millie laugh. “Guess I’ll have to sell some wedding gowns first.”
After we ate, she wandered into the huge marble bathroom and started filling the tub. “I’m going to take a bath. Want to join me?” she called over the running water.
“Yes,” I said, jumping off the bed. From the bathroom doorway, I watched her slip out of her robe and hang it on a hook.
“Even this bathroom is amazing,” she said, slipping into the water. “Who the heck is your client?”
“Can’t tell you.” I ditched my robe on the tiled floor and got into the tub behind her. Wrapping my arms around her, I filled my hands with her breasts. “I mean I could, but then I’d have to kill you, and I’m really enjoying your company at the moment.”
She laughed. “Gee, thanks.”
“So where does your family think you are?”
“Here,” she said. “I told them I was flying to New York. I made up some meetings with a couple designers.”
I could hear the guilt in her voice. “Do you feel bad about that?”
“Kind of. But I keep telling myself this isn’t anyone’s business but ours. And we aren’t hurting anyone. And we’re being careful not to get caught.”
“All true.” I kissed the top of her head.
“But I should tell you that my sisters know about last weekend.”
I went still. “They do?”
“Yes. But I trust them completely. They won’t say anything. And at the time I told them, I thought we were putting an end to this.”
“We tried, didn’t we?”
“I guess so. Not very hard, though.” She sighed. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay. Tell me more about your new business.”
“Like what?”
“What will you call it?”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” She tapped my wrists. “I don’t want it to have a name that sounds like any other bridal salon—I want it to be really personal, because my vision is personal. And I don’t really want it to have anything in the name that designates it as size-specific. I plan to cater to plus-sized brides, but there might be a day in the future when the business grows enough to be completely inclusive.”
“Smart to think ahead.”
“And I’ve been thinking a lot about my brand,” she went on. “It will be elegant and feminine, luxurious but accessible, sexy but in a classy way, cozy but still fancy.”
“You just described yourself,” I told her.
She laughed. “You think so?”
“With one hundred percent accuracy.”
“It’s funny you say that because Frannie suggested I call it Millie Rose—Rose is my middle name.”
“Millie Rose. I like it. Rolls off the tongue.”
“I like it too, the more I think about it. I like the M sound at the beginning, the lilt of the L. And rose is a romantic word.”
“I just like saying your name.”
“Well, I have to think about this stuff, you know? But I do think my name has sort of a pretty, old-fashioned charm to it. It’s funny, I used to hate it.”
“Yeah?”
“Totally. My first name is really Millicent. Growing up, I didn’t know any Millicents or any Roses. It was my great-grandmother’s name, but I never met her. I wanted a name like Madison or Samantha or Chelsea. Millicent Rose just sounded like an old lady to me.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “Did you like your name growing up?”
“I liked that it started with a Z. I thought that was cool.” A memory surfaced. “My little sister Poppy couldn’t say her S’s or Z’s though. She had a lisp, so when she said my name—thack—it always made me laugh. I would try so hard to get her to say it right, and she never could.”
“Aww. Tell me something else about her,” Millie said softly.
No one ever asked me about Poppy anymore. Most days I would have said that was how I wanted it, since talking about her was painful, but I wanted her to be remembered too. “She loved butterflies. She was fascinated by them and always wanted to chase them.” I chuckled. “Moths too. I don’t think she knew the difference. She just thought they were brown butterflies.”
“Did she look like you?”
“Nope. I looked like my dad. She had blond hair she used to wear in pigtails and big blue eyes.”
Millie took one of my hands and fit her palm to mine.
“I dream about her sometimes,” I confessed.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they . . . good dreams?” She laced our fingers together.
“Yes. She’s still a child, exactly how I remember her, but I’m always an adult. She wants to hold my hand, just like she always did.”
“That’s so sweet.”
I studied our interlocked hands for a moment and admitted something to her I’d never said to anyone. “I think she’s the reason why I never wanted kids.”
“What do you mean?”
“Losing her was so painful. I never wanted to feel that again.”
Millie shivered.
“You’re cold.” I worried I’d said too much. “Should we get out?”
“In a sec.” She turned over, putting us chest to chest, and pressed her lips to my collarbone. “Thanks for talking about her.”
“You’re welcome.”
Another kiss, on my jaw this time, then a seductive smile. “Want to take a hot shower with me?”
“Definitely.”
“Are you sure? I sing in the shower, you know. And I’m not good.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite song to sing in the shower?”
“It changes. This morning, it was ‘Beautiful Day’ by U2.”
“A classic.” I rubbed my thumb over her lips. “And today is beautiful.”
We said goodbye on Wednesday morning before I left for work.
“I wish I could take you to the airport,” I told her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to get a Cole Security car for you?”
“I’m sure,” she said, zipping up her roller bag. “I’ll just grab a cab. Let’s not risk anything to link us together.”
I laughed. “It’s not like Cole Security cars have a logo on the side, Millie. They’re totally discreet.”
“Even so,” she chided. “I’ll feel better on my own.”
“Okay.” I took her in my arms and held her tight, her head tucked beneath my chin. “Thanks for coming here.”
“I enjoyed every moment.”
“Think about Vegas, okay?” I was headed there on another job in a few weeks, and I’d invited her to meet me.
“I will.” She tipped her head back and our lips met one last time.
I held the door open for her and gave her arm one final squeeze, then watched as she left the room and headed down the hall toward the elevator. “Be safe,” I called quietly.
She glanced at me over one shoulder and blew me a kiss, all my instincts told me not to let her go.
