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turned and was staring right at her, his smile hopeful in a way she couldn’t bring herself to be. Not now. She grumbled noncommittally, and he rolled his eyes.
    “Come on then.” He moved to scoop up their bags, but she hefted hers onto her shoulder before he had a chance. He scowled, then strode forward to open the office door. “After you.”
    With a sigh, she moved into the warmth and stepped aside. There wasn’t much to see. Just a deserted desk and a couple of sad brochures that looked like they’d been there for years.
    Nate let the door swing closed behind him and called out a questioning, “Hello?”
    The sound of movement beyond an open doorway was the only reply, until finally the twisted figure of an old man emerged. Leaning against the wall, Cassie let Nate take care of things. There were all the usual questions and replies. One room. Two double beds. Non-smoking. A credit card changed hands, and then Nate was standing in front of her again, dangling a key from between his fingers.
    “All set,” he said. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
    Cassie held back her comments about how bad it could get. All the horror stories of bedbugs and bloodstains and axe murderers waiting in the bath. Hell. Right now, as long as the murderer promised to wait until she was sleeping, she probably wouldn’t even protest.
    She shivered in spite of her pretense at apathy. Nate’s brow crinkled, and he stepped into her side to wrap his arm around her shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down. Ducking close, voice low, he said, “Let’s go get you warmed up.”
    And it was too much. It was the heat of his breath on her neck, the smooth tone of his words in her ear and the innuendo he didn’t hear there. The suggestion. And she was so weak. So weak she hoped, leaned into him and breathed. Then stopped herself, cursing in her head.
    Stupid, stupid hope.
    She shrugged him off and forced a halfhearted smile. “Lead on.”
    She kept a safe distance between their bodies as they exited the office and made their way down the concrete sidewalk, each shouldering their own bag in spite of his offer to carry both. They passed door after door until they reached one near the end where Nate stopped, put the key into the lock and pushed.
    The door swung open and Cassie walked through. Looked. Took a half-dozen numb steps forward and forced one breath after another.
    Bedbugs. Bloodstains. Axe murderers. She would have taken any of them. Anything except this.
    Anything except one king bed—one huge, fluffy, inviting king bed.
    How many times had she envisioned the two of them sleeping like this? Her next inhalation choked her, the oxygen tearing through her throat, setting her lungs and chest on fire. She’d wanted this. But not like this.
    Dropping her bag on the floor, she buried her face in her hands and sank to sit on the edge of that stupid, stupid bed. The corners of her eyes prickled, and her cheeks burned as she stuttered out a shaking, “This is wrong. Everything is so, so wrong.”
    The room and his presence, his mocking desire for a new start and a new opportunity for love. The broken wreck of her car and the road spinning out beneath them. The clicking silence of his engine and…and everything.
    She should never have come. Should have stayed at home where she could nurse her broken heart and mourn her unrequited love alone. Should never have let herself be so closed or opened herself up again. Should have should have should have.
    For too many long, aching moments, there was no sound but for her ragged gasps for air and the lingering echo of how wrong this was. But then there was motion. The gust of wind and the closing of the door, a thud as another bag hit the floor. Footfalls. Nate’s hands on hers and everything about him too close.
    Making quiet shushing noises, he peeled her fingers from her face, then curled his hands around hers, holding them between their bodies. He was kneeling on the floor before her, so close she