He glanced in her direction, wishing he could see her and trying to ignore how good she felt against him. The darkness between them was thick. He may as well be blind.
“Throw yourself at me anytime.” Ugh. Did he seriously just say that?
She let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s a dangerous invitation to give to someone you just met. What happened, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” he said, releasing her as she righted herself. “But I believe we’re stuck.”
A light appeared from her direction. She held her phone up, using its flashlight to find the intercom button. She pushed it in and waited.
Hawk’s pulse began to escalate. Elevators were bad enough in the short time it took to get from one floor to another. Having one halt during its descent? Foolish though it was, his temperature rose, and unease began to overtake him. He swallowed.
Elevator assistance wasn’t responding.
“Hang on,” he said, pulling his phone out. Fortunately, the service wasn’t completely unreachable. His assistant’s name was at the top of his recent calls list.
“Clary, yeah, it’s Hawk. The south elevator is stuck.”
“With you on it?”
“Yes.” His companion’s gaze was tangible. It thickened his throat and caused him to tug on his collar. Anxiety was starting to kick in. His head felt light, his lungs pumped faster, his heart banged against his sternum. This couldn’t be happening. The last time he’d had a panic attack had been during his flight to Louisiana to meet with suppliers.
The woman was on her phone, apologizing softly to someone on the other end for needing to postpone. He should probably call Faye and do the same, but he would do what he could to get them out of this mess first.
“Yes,” Hawk repeated. “A woman and I are both trapped here. Can you please call maintenance and have them on this…immediately?”
“Will do, sir. Hang tight.”
The phrase knotted his stomach. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Not helpful advice.”
“What? I thought it was better than ‘don’t drop.’” He heard the smile in Clary’s tone.
“Not any better, Clary.”
She laughed. “Just a joke, sir.”
Hawk gripped his phone, sank to the floor, and slid to the back of the elevator. His face was hot; his vision blanked out or would have if he could see much beyond the woman’s silhouette, which was illuminated from the light of his screen.
Claustrophobia settled in swift and fast. He didn’t know much about elevators. Were they just dangling there? He knew it wasn’t likely, but the image of the cables snapping, and plummeting to their sudden and imminent deaths flashed in his mind like an explicit lyric in a song. Unexpected and unwanted.
“Are you okay?” the woman asked, bringing herself to the floor in front of him.
Hawk opened his eyes to find her analyzing him with concern. The phone in her hand provided enough light to cast shadows around them. She really was pretty, with tendrils of hair dangling on either side of her face. If only he had a drink of water, something to wet his mouth. A trickle of sweat trailed down his spine.
“Yes, I—sorry. Closed spaces and I don’t go well together.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, and her compassionate tone said she meant it. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Distract me?” he suggested.
Light from his phone sprayed a single beam upward, casting shadows to the ceiling. The woman chewed her bottom lip and fiddled with the buckles on her purse. “I get that way with shots sometimes, at the doctor’s office, you know? I have to have someone talk to me to keep me distracted then too.”
He breathed, inhaling long and slow. It only seemed to make his heart pound faster.
“How do they distract you?” he asked with effort. “Does it work?”
“It does if people tell me stories,” she said.
The walls were closing in. His panic escalated. He grimaced, digging his heels into the elevator floor.
“Okay, then. Got any good stories?” He attempted to keep his voice level. He needed to stay calm.
“Stories? No. But I am trying to sew fifty-seven pillowcases before Christmas Eve.”
Hawk laughed. Her admission was random enough to pull his thoughts from his cranking heartbeat. He managed to open his eyes. “Any particular reason?”
She placed her phone on the floor beside her bag so its light beamed upward, twined her hair around one shoulder, and crouched in front of him with such a delectable smirk on her face he found himself that much more drawn in.
“I run a group called Stitches for Sierra,” she said. “We like to do crafty kinds of things for people in need.”
“There’s plenty of people who fit that category this time of year,” he said, thinking of Faye. Was she already waiting for him in the lobby?
He glanced at his phone. Still nothing from Clary. What was taking so long? He didn’t want to worry Faye or to cancel on her. He’d give it a few more minutes.
“Yeah,” the woman said. “One of my neighbors had a daughter who was at Harmony Children’s with leukemia, and it sort of brought my attention there, you know? The kids would love to wake up to something new and different Christmas morning. They go through plenty of white pillowcases from day to day.”
“Why not make them something colorful for Christmas, then, I take it.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Sounds like they’re going to love that.” He thought of the order for candy he’d wanted to have filled, but it only brought another swell of pressure. He closed his eyes, breathing through it.
“Need another distraction?” she suggested.
“That one was working pretty good.” He couldn’t bear to open his eyes. The visual reminder of the enclosed space didn’t help. Where was Clary?
“What are your Christmas traditions?” The woman’s tone implied it was a suggestion and he didn’t have to answer.
Hawk attempted to thrust the heavier thoughts aside. “My parents usually fly the family out somewhere. Last year, they took all the siblings and grandkids on a
