Third Life - Noelle Adams Page 0,32

tell him I’m fine on my own. Heather gives me my key and directions, and then I’m on my way up to the room.

It’s a suite. One with a separate bedroom and a huge, luxurious bathroom. I’m very pleased with the accommodations and not worried at all about Richard’s coming later.

I unpack. Take a shower. Go downstairs to sit by the pool and read for an hour. (I didn’t bring my bathing suit, so I just wear capris and a light top and am perfectly comfortable.)

When I return to the room, Richard still hasn’t arrived. It sounds like from what he told the manager that he’ll probably be late, so I order down to room service for salmon, risotto, two glasses of Riesling, and a piece of key lime pie. I find something on television to watch while I eat. Then I take the second glass of wine with me to take a long hot bath with the lime and verbena bath salts I find in the provided toiletries.

I’m very relaxed when the bath is over, but I’m also starting to get impatient.

We were supposed to have this evening together. It’s after ten already, and Richard hasn’t made an appearance. We only have the weekend, and his delay has cut off a significant chunk of it.

There’s nothing I can do about it, so I try not to be too disappointed or mopey. I am feeling a bit heavy as I put on one of the pretty gowns I brought with me. This one is a lovely cream color with lace straps and lace at the neckline. It looks feminine. The color is good against my skin. It makes my breasts look particularly lush. It’s not overtly sexy—or sexy in any way. But I’ve bought way too much lingerie in the past few months in preparation for all three trips, and one thing I’ve discovered is that I look stupid in the really sexy, daring stuff. I look unnatural. Artificial. Like a little girl playing dress-up.

Some women can wear it and it suits them, but it doesn’t suit me. I’m not comfortable in it, which means I won’t have a good time wearing it. So I stick to the pretty stuff I look good in.

If Richard doesn’t like it... Well, he didn’t have any complaints in Paris. And the lingerie I wear is more about me than it’s about him. I’m not going to make my choices based on a man’s preferences if they aren’t in sync with my own.

Any man.

Even Richard.

I read for a while until I can’t keep my eyes open. There’s still no Richard. So finally I put away my e-reader and turn off the light.

Hopefully he’ll get here before morning. We’ll still have all of tomorrow and Sunday morning.

I’m asleep in less than ten minutes after the long bath and two glasses of wine. I sleep soundly, not waking up until I’m vaguely aware of someone getting into the bed with me.

“Wha—?” I still half-asleep and can’t make my mind work. I fuzzily realize I’m in a hotel room in San Diego, but I’m confused about the man’s body that has climbed on top of me.

Richard gives that soft, warm chuckle I can sometimes hear in my sleep. He nuzzles my neck and brushes my hair back from my face. “I race through time and space to get here with you, and you went to sleep on me.”

I’m smiling now as awareness creeps back into my mind. He smells familiar. That very faint whiff of spicy cologne or aftershave. Scotch on his breath. Something warm and natural underlying it.

Him.

He’s wearing a suit, and he hasn’t even taken off the tie. A light is now on in the living area of the suite, casting dim illumination into the bedroom. Enough for me to see him. His silvering hair. His blue eyes. The crinkles beside his mouth and his eyes.

“Hi,” I say.

He nuzzles my neck again before kissing my mouth. “Hi to you too.”

“And don’t you dare complain about my going to sleep. I waited and waited and waited for you, and you never showed up.”

“I know. I’m really sorry. It would have served me right if you’d decided to pack up your stuff and go home.”

“That would have been kind of petty. Plus it would have been self-defeating since I flew all this way because I wanted to see you.”

He kisses me again, and it gets deeper than I expected. I’ve still not quite woken up, and I