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Chapter Five

There was nothing better than the cold air in your lungs, the sky barely a dark blue color, the feel of pavement beneath your feet, the sensation that you were soaring, flying, leaving the world behind. Sophie loved her morning runs, the rhythmic sound of her feet on the ground, the wind rushing by her ears. It was her alone time. The only part of the day that she put aside for herself--no phone calls, no emails, no one to bother her. She felt like she could take over the world. She felt like she could do anything.

Even at six in the morning, traffic in Hollywood was congested, though not nearly as bad as it would be later in the afternoon. After running up to the peak of Runyan Canyon, the jog back down was a breeze. There was a little cafe around the corner on Sycamore that sold the best mochas. She deserved a little treat in the form of a latte after the six miles she'd just knocked off.

Just the thought of a hot, caffeinated beverage was enough to give her a second wind, and she flew down the sidewalk, dodging morning joggers and dog-walkers. She was just rounding the corner, slowing to a jog when she almost choked. She slammed to a complete stop a few feet away from the front of the cafe.

"Nate!" she blurted out.

Nathan Anderson looked up from his phone, a frown etched between his face. Dark bags pressed underneath his puffy, red eyes. A stubble lined his jaw and chin, and his tie was loosened, the top of his shirt opening slightly to reveal a tanned chest. When he recognized her, his gaze widened, and his mouth stretched into a smile. "Sophie." He tucked his phone into his pocket. "What are you doing here?"

He let his gaze travel down the length of her body, and she told herself that her pulse was so fast because she'd just been running, not because of the way he looked at her. His lips parted, then closed, and his throat worked.

"Stupid question," he added quickly. "Obviously you're running." He glanced at his wristwatch. "You weren't kidding about waking up early."

"No," she said, a little out of breath.

There was an awkward pause, and all she could think about was the last IM she'd sent him which he still hadn't responded to. They'd spent the last week exchanging messages all day, catching each other online in the evenings and chatting until she fell asleep with her fingers on her keyboard. She'd told him about her parents' falling off the grid, jumping on some world-exploring cruise, about her sister traveling to the other side of the planet to teach impoverished children. And he'd told her about his parents' death, how he was raised by his grandfather who grilled him harder than any other disgruntled employer he might have worked for.

He had a raw sense of humor, probably gained from years of being responsible for a large corporation he'd never intended to take over. Sophie respected him for placing so much value in his work. It was the first time she'd met a man who wasn't focused on the weekend, who only looked forward to the next party or club scene, or when he could upgrade his platinum screen TV. Actually, it was the first time she'd talked to a man who was as much of a workaholic as she was. Which was kind of frightening.

It wasn't going to go anywhere, of course. Every time she sent him a reply, she told herself that it would be the last time. She was only being polite. But then he would ask her another question or make a joke, and she couldn't remember the last time her heart had jumped just from the sound of her phone beeping, or the last time her stomach flipped when she saw the red notification over her inbox icon. She'd told him more about herself than she'd shared with anyone, even Lina. But here she stood, unable to think of one thing to say. How was it that they were able to communicate so easily online, but now that he was right in front of her, her mouth felt dry, her lips parched, and her mind blank?

She was aware that she was dressed in a race t-shirt that must have been a decade old, running leggings, and a black track jacket. She was sweaty, her hair in a messy ponytail, and her face hot and growing hotter. And despite the shadows beneath his eyes and the beginnings of a beard, Nate still looked as breathtaking as ever. Totally unfair.