“Opposite side of the lobby.”
“Thank you.”
Astrid wasn’t about to wait for Clay so he could further tell her why he was so disappointed to learn they’d been booked in the same room. He caught up with her at the elevator bank.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t do well with surprises. And I guess the stress of the award show feels more real now that we’re here.”
Astrid slowly drew a breath through her nose, silently begging the universe for strength. “I understand. It’ll all be fine.” The elevator dinged and she stepped on board.
Clay and Astrid rode up to the top floor of the hotel. They wound their way around to their room, which was tucked away at the far end of the hall. Clay waved the key in front of the electronic lock and the light shined green. He opened the door, but held it for Astrid to enter first. She gladly accepted the chivalrous act from him. It felt like one of the few times he’d admitted that she was a woman and he was a man.
The room was just as elegant as the lobby downstairs, with a generous living area decorated in a color scheme of warm gold and cool gray with accents of black and white. “They’ve done a lovely job with the Hollywood Regency decor,” she said. “It’s all quite accurate to the period, as near as I can tell. Of course, I’m no expert. What do you think?”
“Do you know about Regency from when you lived in Los Angeles?”
Astrid set down her purse and padded over to the window to take in the view of the pool area below, ringed by palm trees, the water a pure blue. Now that it was fall, there were only a few guests sunning themselves in the slightly cooler temperatures. “I’ve been studying at night. I want to understand the art and architecture side of what we do at Sterling.”
“Really?”
“Why? Does that surprise you?”
“To be honest, it does.”
Astrid shot him a pointed glance. He looked so perfect, standing there with his hands stuffed into his pockets. All she wanted to do was to kiss him, if only to gather a few more pieces of the Clay Morgan puzzle. What would it be like? Would he want the same things she did? The questions sometimes kept her up at night. “I can’t always get to sleep. So I spend time researching these things. And I am truly interested. I know that you do more than design buildings to make money. I know you put a lot of attention into the process. I just want to understand how much.”
He nodded, and Astrid scanned his face for some sign that she was softening him, but there was no real indication things were moving in that direction. “Well, good. I’m glad you’re taking things at work so seriously.”
“Does that make you feel like we might be better suited to work together than you previously thought?”
He pressed his lips together tightly. “The jury is still out on that. We’re very different people.”
Astrid felt as though everything with Clay was two steps forward, two steps back—the world’s most frustrating cha-cha. “Sometimes different is good. It helps to see more than one point of view.”
There was a knock at the door, giving Clay his excuse to take a break from their conversation. It was one bellman with their bags, and another wheeling a room service cart with champagne on ice, two glasses, and a plate of strawberries. If only she and Clay were there for romantic reasons...the mood would have been perfectly set.
Clay tipped the bellmen, then went to take their two hanging bags.
“Let me hang these for you,” the bellman said. “The longer one is quite heavy.”
“Heavy?” Clay asked.
Astrid waved the man in her direction, deciding she would take the bedroom on the farthest side of the suite. “Gowns are not light.”
“I hope you didn’t bring anything too extravagant,” Clay called after her.
As if she needed more confirmation that he wanted her to stay buttoned up, professional, and platonic. “Trust me,” she answered. “It’s the exact right amount of extravagant.”
The bellman snickered as he hung the garment bag in the closet for her. “Anything else I can do for you, ma’am?”
“Not unless you can figure out how to get my roommate to loosen up.”
“The champagne?”
“Not a bad idea.” Astrid led the way back into the living room and the bellmen departed, leaving Astrid and Clay all alone in their exquisite surroundings. She beelined for the bubbly. “A drink to take the edge off before we get dressed and head downstairs?”
Clay nearly lunged for the bottle, grasping her hand to stop her from peeling back the foil. “No. It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” She peered up at his handsome face, trying not to fixate on the tempting slack in his lower lip as he tried to stop her or the way the warmth from his hand was sending shockwaves through her.
“Champagne is for celebrating. I’d rather save it for later.”
Astrid waited for a heartbeat or two, then plunged the bottle back into the ice bucket. “Fine.” She would not let this development ruin her evening. Later sounded vaguely promising. She’d cling to whatever hope she could.
Five
Clay didn’t like to worry. It was a waste of time and energy, especially when he found himself doing it over things he couldn’t control, like the Architect of the Year awards. “You can’t do a thing about it. Relax,” he said to himself in the mirror as he straightened his bowtie.
But I care about this. Thus he was stuck in what felt like an endless cycle of unease. As much as he didn’t care about other people’s opinions, and was confident in his work, there was this part of him that needed the validation of the award. With little to no parental guidance as a kid, he’d spent his entire life without a stamp
