Delaney James was wearing Chanel the night her husband told her he didn't love her anymore.
In an instant, her picture-perfect Manhattan life-complete with a brownstone on the Upper East Side, a blossoming career as a fashion journalist, and a devas...
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When we get back to the hotel I trade the button-down for a worn T-shirt and soft sweatpants and tell Delaney to change and meet me by the elevator at the end of the hall. The last thing I want is for her to take off that dress—unless she's taking everything off—but she won't be comfortable doing what I've planned in anything but loungewear.
I snag the thick hotel blanket from the foot of the bed while she slips into the bathroom, make sure I've got our room key, and head toward the private elevator. Ever since I booked this place and saw there was a rooftop veranda, I've been picturing this night. While she was at the spa I called the front desk and asked—half-expecting to have to slip them a bribe—if we could have it to ourselves for a couple hours. They said yes without even asking for my credit card. That felt like a sign.
Five minutes later the door opens and she steps into the hall. Her hair is still down but the curls are brushed out, her make-up gone, freckles and the tiny beauty mark on her cheek on full display. She's wearing an off-the-shoulder white long-sleeve top and mint-green knit pajama shorts so small they barely cover her. I try to keep my eyes on her face, but she's impossible to look away from. Golden hair, bare legs, painted white toes. Even in pajamas she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I'm so far gone for this girl. Not just her smile or her laugh or her body—her bright mind, her forgiving heart, the way she makes a room feel softer just by walking into it. I'm in love with all of her. She's not there yet, but if I don't say it soon, I'm going to burst.
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"It's a surprise."
"Another one?" She wraps her hands around my forearm, bouncing on her toes. "Just tell me."
"I could," I say, grinning, "but then I'd have to kill you. Then I'd have to go to the ESPYS alone and explain to your family why you didn't come home with me. That'd be a mess. Best to wait the thirty seconds it'll take to get there."
"Fine," she laughs. "But you're going to create a monster if you keep spoiling me. A girl can only get so many surprises before she gets used to it and decides to stick around for good."
I slide my arm around her back, hand finding the curve of her waist, and pull her in against me. Her warmth seeps through my shirt. "Maybe that's been my intention all along."
She loops her arms around my waist and tips her chin against my chest, looking up at me. Her eyes flick from mine to my mouth, back again, then linger on my lips. She parts her own, tongue darting out to wet them, and the shine she leaves behind makes my grip on her side tighten. I've been on my best behavior all day, but the look she's giving me now is burned into my memory. She wants me to kiss her. And what kind of man would I be to make her wait?
I lean in as she rises onto her toes, her minty breath brushing my mouth. We're a breath away when the elevator doors slide open. She turns, eyes widening at the view.
