“I had a dream about you that night.”
“What sort of dream?”she asked, suddenly remembering her own, filled with snow and playful kisses.
“The sort of dream I’ll tell you about tomorrow night when we have dinner together.”
He reached for her hand and pressed a small matchbook into her palm with a smile.
“My number’s inside,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious.Promise you’ll call me as soon as you wake up.”
“But what about Molly?”Claire asked, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Jay winked.“Let her get her own matchbook.”
Claire closed the door as quietly as possible and tiptoed through the dark suite.Shedding clothes with each step, she was down to just her bra and panties when she pushed open the bedroom door.The lamplight shone, revealing two beds which had been neatly turned down.Neither contained Molly.In seconds she had her phone in hand, frantic to reach her best friend.
"Yes?"a sleepy voice answered after four rings.
"Oh, thank God you’re alive.”Claire sighed in relief.
“Yes, Mother, I’m fine.”Molly yawned.
“Where the hell are you?"
"The absolute last place you’d expect but I promise I’m safe and being extremely well cared for," Molly whispered."What the hell happened to you?"
Claire replayed the events of the evening, sharing the details of the surprise tête-à-tête that occurred inside the empty conservatory, followed by dancing, gelato, and gratuitous flirting.
“Is he there now?”Molly asked.
"God, no.We came back here, he escorted me to the door of the hotel where he politely kissed my hand and asked if I would please consider seeing him again."
"And then he got on his white steed, flipped his metal helmet visor into place, and rode off, right?How do you do it, Claire?I mean, honestly… Prince Charmings literally just throw themselves at your feet."
"Would you stop it, please?Now, are you planning on coming back here or what?”
“Um… not sure yet.I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, I need to call Hamish and apologize for leaving without saying goodbye.I tried to find him, but he kept disappearing.I sent him a text but?—"
"Would you like to talk to him?"Molly asked.
"Yes…” Claire answered warily.
"Hold on,” Molly giggled.“He’s right here…”
“Wait, what?”Claire squealed with shock.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
CLAIRE
An irksome sliver of light streamed between the edges of the velvet drapery panels, landing precisely on Claire’s eyelids.It took several seconds to identify the nuisance as she rolled over with a satisfied sigh, eyes firmly closed.What would happen if she opened them, finding the previous night to be a dream?With her back to the sun, she blinked and confronted reality.
Her gaze landed on the small chaise across the room—specifically the black tuxedo jacket draped across it.She then spied the matchbook sitting on the nightstand, his number written inside.No name.Just a hastily scrawled set of digits.So very old school—a number on a matchbook—and she loved it.She picked it up and studied his handwriting, noting the prominent lines drawn through both the zero digit and the seven.She tapped the matchbook against her thumbnail several times then reached for the phone.After summoning a pot of coffee and breakfast via room service, she grabbed a quick shower.As she wrapped her wet hair in a towel, a soft knock echoed through the quiet suite.Expecting her room service order, she stood shocked when she found the bellhop in the hall bearing gifts—an enormous bouquet of flowers and a gift box.
"These were just delivered for you, ma'am," he announced.
"Thank you very much."Claire took a step back.
