Stinger

She burst out laughing and I grinned at her, happy to see that faraway look of pain clear out of her expression.

After a minute, she raised her eyebrows. "I do believe you just got another secret out of me without having to sink a basket."

I smiled. "True. Okay, fair is fair–you get a freebie now too."

"Why do you call me Buttercup?" she asked.

I turned my head and when she turned her head to look at me, our faces were only inches apart.

I shrugged, looking into her eyes. I had told her a lot of personal stuff about myself, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to hold back now. "Maybe it's your hair," I said, glancing up at her blonde-ness. "Will you take it down for me?"

"My hair?" she whispered. "You want me to take it down for you?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

She hesitated for a minute but then her hand slid up to the back of her head and before I knew it, a mass of silky sunshine was cascading over her shoulders.

"Jesus, Buttercup. You're like an angel." I took a lock between my fingers. It felt as soft as it looked.

She smiled. "I…" Her voice trailed off as I leaned toward her. Her eyes widened, but she didn't move away, and just as our lips were about to touch, the elevator jolted and began to rise. We both pulled away from each other, her gasping in surprise. It was fixed. We were about to be set free. The only thing I could feel was disappointment. 

CHAPTER 4

Grace

The jolt of the elevator brought me back to reality and I realized we were about to be set free. "Oh Thank God!" burst out of me as I stood up and grabbed my bag and stood at the doors, ready to jump out the minute they opened. I looked back at Carson and he was still sitting on the floor, unmoving, looking at me with a small frown on his face.

"Hey," I started, "didn't get enough time in here? Planning on staying?" I tilted my head and smiled.

He sighed and started to stand up just as the doors opened. I stepped through them, breathing deeply. "Ah fresh air!" I exclaimed. A man in a dark blue suit came toward me immediately. "Are you okay? We want to apologize for the inconvenience that our elevator malfunction caused you. If you'll come with me to the front desk, I'd like to comp your room for the weekend."

"Oh, um, it's okay. But, a comped room? Okay…" I said as he took my elbow and led me away. I glanced back and another man in a suit was talking to Carson, most likely apologizing to him as well and offering him a comped room. I'd see him at the front desk.

The man, Mr. Savard, led me to the check-in counter, and it only took a couple minutes for him to find my reservation and comp it on the computer. He also handed me a gift certificate to Picasso, a restaurant inside the hotel. He apologized profusely again, and I assured him we were fine and that it hadn't been that bad. We. Now where was the other half of that we? I stopped and looked around. He was nowhere to be seen at the front desk. I glanced around the lobby area and didn't see him there either. Did he refuse the comped room? If so, why would he just leave without even saying goodbye? My heart sped up. He had asked me to spend the weekend with him and I hadn't answered. I hadn't known what to say. I mean, it was just too crazy.

I had ended up liking him though, as unbelievable as that was. I would take that with me and consider the last couple of hours a good lesson about why not to judge a book by its cover. I shook my head slightly and walked back to the elevators.

I bit my thumbnail as the elevator doors closed and rose to my floor. When the doors opened, I stepped off quickly and let out a big breath.

I let myself into my room and dropped down on the bed, lying back and gazing up at the ceiling. I mean, it would be insane to even consider spending the weekend with Carson, right? It was so far outside my neat, tidy life that the very thought of it was ridiculous… wasn't it? I lay there staring upwards, unseeing, and arguing with myself. Was I considering a weekend with Carson? Did I want that? I thought about it for a few minutes, picturing his smiling face. Okay, yes, I wanted it. There, I said it. I liked him, I had already admitted it. I liked Carson Stinger, Straight Male Performer. It was nuts. Bonkers. Cuckoo. But, just because I wanted something, didn't mean I should do it. I lay there frowning. It was just a weekend, though. How many other twenty-three year old girls meet a cute guy and spend a great weekend with them and then move on with their life? Him being in the business he was in made it that much more perfect–it wasn't like we could go anywhere beyond a weekend in Vegas. He knew that and I knew that. Maybe he was right–maybe it was within the realms of my "plan." Why couldn't he be Guy Number Two? Why not? Couldn't I be crazy and outrageous just once in my life? Just once?

As I lay there debating, I pictured the proverbial angel and devil whispering into either ear. How had this happened exactly? I never gave in to temptation, and here I was strongly leaning toward spending a couple days with Carson Stinger in his Vegas hotel room letting him teach me things? I brought one hand to my mouth, stifling a shocked giggle. I didn't even know myself anymore. Two hours in an elevator with him and I didn't even know who I was. Why did that thought not scare the living hell out of me? I sat up. Why was I sitting here with excited nerves shooting all over my body instead?

Then another thought occurred to me. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe that's why he disappeared so quickly. I sighed, flopping back down on my bed. Maybe this was all a moot point anyway. I had no idea what his room number was and I was sure they didn't give out that information at the front desk. I let out a big sigh. Maybe I'd give it a try though. And if I couldn't find him, I'd just have to resign myself to the long weekend of law presentations stretched out in front of me, just as I had planned.

* * *

Carson

I closed the door to my hotel room and dropped down on my bed, laying back and bringing my hands up to scrub down my face. Shit. Watching her walk away had sucked. But she had never said she'd stay with me and she had been so damn excited to get off the elevator, I knew that her answer would be no. She hadn't even turned to say goodbye. I wasn't going to make it more uncomfortable for her and I wasn't going to beg. Women begged me, I didn't beg them. End of story.

Still, I had thought we connected in a way that I never connected with women. Especially women I found attractive. God, I was such a fucking idiot–you felt a connection, Carson. She didn't. And this time, double fucking whammy, she didn't even want to enjoy my best assets. Not even that.

There were plenty that did though. I wasn't going to lie around like a lovesick girl and write in my diary with my pink, glitter pen all night.

I lay on the bed for a while longer before I stood up and stripped off my clothes and walked to the shower. As I was stepping out, I thought I heard a small knock at my room door. I stilled and listened but didn't hear it again. I dried off and wrapped the towel around my hips, and as I was walking out to grab some clothes, I heard some scuffling sounds right outside my door. I walked over and flung the door open. Grace Hamilton was just turning away. She jerked around and let out a small screech as the door banged against the wall. I couldn't help the huge grin that I felt take over my face. I quickly went serious, though, and leaned my towel-clad hip against the doorframe, crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. She was going to have to tell me she wanted this.

She took a deep breath and I could see that she was battling herself. I remained quiet. Finally, after about a million years, she exhaled out all on one breath, "You asked if I'd spend the weekend with you." I didn't react, just kept watching her. She bit her lip, looking uncertain. "Yes," she finally said, "my answer is yes."

I grinned, feeling something soar inside. "That's all I needed to hear, Buttercup." I held the door open to let her cross through.