A writers' conference in California

NADIA'S POV

When I called the front desk of the hotel to report that the air conditioner was spitting hot air, the receptionist that had told me she was going to call a technician had failed to tell me that the technician was going to be this hot.

I swallowed hard, my hands even more sweaty than it had been before I made my report.

“Room 215? You reported an air conditioner problem?”

His voice made the room smaller than it already was. The booming baritone of a confident man, his eyes levelled on mine.

“Yes…yes, I did.”

I opened the door to let him in, and briefly tried in vain to ignore the strong scent of the earthy cologne that followed him as he walked past.

As I closed the door, I was afforded a view of him properly.

He was about six foot tall or probably five nine if I wasn't mistaken. He was quite slender but fit in all the right places.

He turned to me, and I was suddenly aware of his recently shaved chin and the fact that he was hairy, things I wasn't supposed to be noticing about a technician.

“Will you go to another room and wait for me to work on it? You can also go to the reception, there's an air conditioner there.” He walked over to the air conditioner without waiting for a reply, his eyes scanning it, before adding, “This shouldn't take so long to fix. About thirty minutes and I'll be done.”

When he noticed I hadn't answered any of his questions, he turned to me, and once more, I was short of breath.

I had seen handsome men in my life, but the man before me was a discovery. I could feel my cheeks flaming as I wrapped the hotel robe around me tightly.

“No…no, I'll stay. I…I have to prepare for a conference in about an hour, and I'm afraid I don't have the luxury of moving.”

While I was answering, I was vaguely aware of the fact he was starting to check me out. His gaze expressionless, I could only wonder what he thought of me.

“Alright. I hope I won't be a bother.”

A bother? Had he looked at himself in the mirror?

He could easily pass for a model.

I walked nervously to the table where my laptop was and tried to pretend I was interested in what was on the screen.

It was a barefaced lie.

His cologne, his presence, his hairy arms and the way he worked, tenderly, carefully dismantling the air conditioner in a manner that made me steal glances at him time and time again. He was simply impossible to ignore.

“Would…would you like a drink? I was about to get something from room service before you came in.”

It was another lie, but so focused on pleasing him was I that the lies just left my lips repeatedly without effort.

He turned to me, and for the first time, he smiled.

“I honestly don't want to be a bother…”

“Oh, you're not.” Without even waiting for a reply, I called the front desk and ordered two cans of Mountain Dew.

While he buried himself in his work, I swiped the ring which indicated that I was married off my finger and into the pocket of the robe I was wearing.

I shook my head as I tried to swat away the images of my husband's face and my two children back at home.

I barely left home, but the annual writers conference was an event I knew I would never miss. As a writer, it helped me yearly to bond with other writers and also see the country because every year, the venue was changed.

However, this year's conference had seemed to be a disaster from the moment I signed up. I hadn't only signed up late, it resulted in me getting a small hotel far away from the conference hall as the nearby hotels were filled to the brim with writers who had arrived early before me.

Two days in and I was unmotivated, cranky and stressed out. Then came the air conditioner problem.

Everything had looked like a disaster until the technician entered the room.

With him in the room, I had forgotten how terrible the writers conference had been.

“Here you go.” I handed him a can from the two cans which I had just collected from the receptionist.

“Thank you.” He dropped the can and continued working. I sat on the only chair in the room, watching him work, my eyes barely leaving his hands and his fingers as he worked diligently.

“There, all finished. That should do it.” He stood, and once again, I felt small in his presence. Grabbing the air conditioner remote, he put it on, and it returned to normal, the air better than it was initially.

“Oh, thank you.”

The afternoon session of the conference was supposed to begin in exactly forty minutes. But as I watched him pack his tools into the working bag he had brought along with him, I knew that I wasn't going to attend that afternoon's session.

“Actually, I have a problem with my laptop. It…it trips off most times, and as a writer, it can be so annoying. You don't happen to know anything about laptops or anyone that can fix it, do you?”

The lies left my lips effortlessly, my hands still clammy even though the air conditioner was now working properly.

He looked at me after I finished speaking, and suddenly the space between us was too small. His green eyes never left mine for a second, and when he went past me to the table where the laptop was, I closed my eyes briefly, fighting for the self control I knew had ceased to exist at the point when I needed it most.

“How do you put it on?”

The laptop was a new brand given to me by my husband on my last birthday, so I understood that it was quite difficult to operate as it wasn't the regular brand people were used to.

As soon as I stood next to him, I regretted it instantly.

The pent up tension in the room seemed to explode when my hand brushed his as I reached for the power button.

I turned, an apology at the tip of my tongue.

I never got the chance to even say anything because at that same moment, he leaned in, claiming my lips possessively.