Through the glass (Part 3)

The elevator ride to the 22nd floor felt interminable.

Mia had showered quickly, her skin still warm and flushed.

She'd chosen a simple black dress that was both elegant and easy to remove.

Her hair fell in damp waves around her shoulders, and she wore only a touch of lip gloss.

The citrus scent of the hotel's shower gel lingered on her skin as she checked her reflection in the elevator's mirrored wall.

She hardly recognized the woman who stared back at her.

Her eyes were bright with excitement, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted.

She looked like someone on the verge of an adventure, not the responsible executive who had arrived at this hotel just hours ago.

The elevator chimed as it reached the 22nd floor.

Mia took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor.

The hallway stretched in both directions, identical to her own floor — plush carpet, subdued lighting, numbered doors.

She turned right, following the signs toward room 2214.

As she walked, doubt began to creep in.

What if this was a mistake?

What if Alex wasn't what he seemed?

What if their chemistry existed only through the safety of separated windows?

She slowed as she approached his door, uncertainty making her hesitate.

Before she could decide whether to knock or flee, the door opened.

Alex stood in the doorway, now dressed in jeans and a simple gray t-shirt that hugged his athletic frame.

Up close, he was even more handsome, deep brown eyes, strong jawline with just a hint of stubble, and dark hair that curled slightly at the ends.

He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with subtle laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

"I heard footsteps," he explained, his voice a rich baritone with the barest hint of an accent she couldn't place. "I was afraid you might change your mind."

Mia found herself momentarily speechless, taking in the reality of him.

The anonymous fantasy had suddenly become flesh and blood, standing close enough to touch.

"I nearly did," she admitted, surprising herself with her honesty.

Alex's lips curved into a smile. "I'm glad you didn't."

He stepped back, opening the door wider in invitation rather than reaching for her.

Again, that respect for her space, her choice, made something warm unfurl in her chest.

Mia hesitated only a moment before stepping over the threshold.

His room was a mirror image of hers, with the same luxury furnishings and floor-to-ceiling windows.

A bottle of wine sat open on the desk, two glasses beside it.

"I ordered it when I saw you coming," he explained, following her gaze. "Seemed presumptuous to pour before you arrived."

"Very considerate," she said, finding her voice at last.

Up close, she could smell his cologne, something subtle and woodsy that made her want to lean closer.

Alex closed the door, but remained near it, giving her space.

"This is strange, isn't it? Meeting like this."

Mia laughed softly, the tension breaking. "Very strange. I've never done anything remotely like this before."

"Neither have I," he said, and somehow she believed him.

"I was working late, looked up and saw you, and..." he trailed off, his eyes traveling over her in a way that made her skin tingle. "I couldn't look away."

"I noticed," she said, a teasing note entering her voice.

He grinned, the expression transforming his face, making him look younger and somehow more approachable.

"Would you like that wine?"

Mia nodded, watching as he crossed to the desk and poured two glasses of red wine.

His movements were confident and economical, no wasted motion.

"To unexpected connections," he said, offering her a glass.

"To breaking routine," she countered, taking it.

Their fingers brushed during the exchange, the first contact between them sending a small jolt through her body.

She took a sip to hide her reaction, finding the wine rich and velvety.

"So," Alex said, leaning against the desk. "Who are you when you're not putting on shows for strangers across the way?"

The directness of his question made her laugh.

"Mia Reynolds. Marketing executive. Usually much more boring than tonight would suggest."

Alex smiled over his wineglass. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's true," she insisted. "I'm the reliable one. The careful one. The one who always follows the rules."

"Except tonight," he observed.

"Except tonight," she agreed, taking another sip of wine.

Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses, and the electricity that had sparked between their windows returned, stronger now with proximity.

"And you?" she asked. "Who's Alex when he's not watching from across the gap?"

"Alex Harrington. Architect, here consulting on a new project downtown."

He set his glass down. "Also typically more reserved than tonight's events would indicate."

Mia took a step closer to him, emboldened by the wine and the memory of what they'd already shared.

"What happened to us tonight, then?" she asked softly. "Why did we both do something so... unlike ourselves?"

Alex considered the question seriously.

"Maybe sometimes we need to be seen in a different way," he said finally. "Not as who we pretend to be every day, but as who we might be if we weren't so careful."

His words resonated with something deep inside her.

Mia set her wine glass beside his on the desk, eliminating one more barrier between them.

"And who do you think I might be?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "if I weren't so careful?"

Alex's eyes darkened as he studied her face.

"I think," he said slowly, "you might be someone who knows exactly what she wants."

"And if that's true," Mia said, taking another step toward him, close enough now to feel the warmth radiating from his body, "what do you think I want right now?"

Alex didn't answer with words.

Instead, he reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away if she chose.

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing lightly across her lower lip.

Mia's breath caught at the contact, her lips parting slightly under his touch.

"May I?" he asked softly.