Astrid swallowed back the emotion of her admission. Being vulnerable with Clay was far more difficult than it was with any other person she’d ever known. His tough outer shell was not only familiar, it was impenetrable. She knew the way he dismissed weakness and feelings as nothing more than a nuisance. She hoped he didn’t think any less of her because she’d been willing to open up. The desire to keep him thinking the best of her was a strong one, with a fiercely beating heart and a need to survive. “We don’t need to talk about me anymore. I want to know how you’re feeling about tonight.”
He noticeably tightened his grip on the steering wheel. It was another chance to admire his hands, just like she often found herself doing when they were in the office together. She especially loved to watch them in motion when he sketched up ideas before working them out on the computer. He openly admitted to being old-school and preferring paper and pencil to a mouse and a monitor. Just the thought of him employing some of that artistry and brilliance when putting his hands on her body was enough to make Astrid shudder. She couldn’t imagine him ever wanting her like that.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little bit nervous. But I already told you that I would be.”
“You must feel some certainty that you’re going to win.”
“I know nothing of the sort. The field of nominees is exceptionally talented. Men and women I deeply admire.”
“I still think you’ll win. And I think you know that, too.” She didn’t believe for a moment that he didn’t know his own excellence.
“I don’t.”
“You’re so confident. Everything you do at work is exact and deliberate. I often wonder how you can spend your whole day being so sure of yourself.” It was the absolute truth and it amazed her that he might not actually see it. Astrid would have done anything to have one-tenth of the confidence he did.
“I am sure of my work. But that doesn’t make it the best. It’s only my best.” He shrugged and exited the highway. Soon they were on Hollywood Boulevard, and then in the thick of Beverly Hills, with its wide boulevards and endless stream of luxury cars. This was a familiar landscape for Astrid. She had moved to Los Angeles after the grind of living in New York got to her. She’d yearned for wide open spaces and sunshine. Little had she known that she should have gone to San Diego for that. In LA, she’d mostly gotten bad traffic and fewer modeling jobs. But it was also where she met Johnathon, so she couldn’t regret the move she’d made. It not only led her to the romance she’d never thought she would have, he opened up her whole world. Johnathon was fantastic at showing her the possibilities in life.
Clay pulled up in front of the Essex Beverly Hills Hotel. The bellman rushed to open Astrid’s door as the valet rounded to Clay’s side of the car. Astrid waited while he handed over the keys, then joined him as they walked inside. Astrid had stayed at five-star hotels all over the world, but it didn’t make the lobby any less glamorous or beautiful, with a true old Hollywood feel. She loved being here with Clay, although what she really wanted to know was what it might be like to arrive with him, holding hands, as his partner. Instead, she was the tagalong, the woman who had been instructed by the company to attend.
They were greeted at the check-in desk by a female clerk who was, in Astrid’s estimation, exceptionally pretty. Astrid couldn’t help but notice that this didn’t seem to register on Clay’s radar. The realization made her feel a bit better about her own failure to capture his attention. Perhaps he was so focused on everything else in his life that women weren’t even a passing thought. Was that because of his daughter’s mother? Despite not knowing the full story of Clay’s past, she thought there seemed to be considerable pain in that part of his life.
She wanted to know more. She longed to know it all, to at least have all of the pieces of the puzzle that was Clay Morgan so she could try to assemble them. The next twenty-four hours might be the only true chance she had to crack open his hard exterior and get to the root of what made him tick. She knew what he was like in the office—all business. And at most social events, at least back in San Diego, he was as distant from her as she could imagine. This was her window. If only he would let her in.
The clerk clacked away at her keyboard, then cocked her head to one side. “Mr. Morgan, I see you have a two-bedroom suite on your reservation. Is that correct?”
“No. It should be two rooms. Separate rooms.”
The clerk returned to her computer, shaking her head from side to side. “I’m sorry, but I only see one room on your reservation, sir. It’s a beautiful suite with two separate bedrooms and bathrooms. Will that be suitable? I’m afraid the rest of the hotel is booked for the state architecture commission’s annual awards.”
“Yes, I know that. That’s why I’m here.” He blew out an exasperated breath.
He was frustrated and Astrid saw no reason for it, other than his regular requests to be far away from Astrid. “It’s fine, Clay. Really. It’s fine. I’ll stay on my side of the suite. You won’t have to worry about me.”
He turned to her with a pained expression on his face. “That’s not what I’m saying. This just isn’t what I expected.”
“I’m very sorry, sir. The hotel will send up a bottle of champagne as a way of apologizing,” the clerk said, offering two key cards.
“I don’t think we need champagne.”
“We do need the champagne. Thank you very
