Page 24 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Player

I step a little closer. “Can I kiss you?”

Her smile softens. “Please do.”

I lift one hand slowly, giving her every chance to move away if she wants to.

Instead, she closes the last few inches between us. Our foreheads brush first. Then our noses.

I smile.

“So this is less awkward than the airport.”

She laughs quietly. “Barely.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I was worried I’d imagined this.”

“You didn’t.” Our eyes meet one last time.

Then I kiss her. Slowly. Carefully.

Like I’m afraid rushing it might somehow wake me from the best dream I’ve ever had.

She kisses me back just as gently.

Like her it’s warm. Patient. Certain.

When we finally pull apart, neither of us moves very far.

She smiles.

I smile back. “I think we’re going to have to retire calling each other ‘Wrong Number.’”

FIVE

JO

I don’t realize how late it’s gotten until we arrive at my hotel and I see most of the guest lights out.

I glance at Cal. “You survived.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “I did.”

“And nobody died.”

“I wasn’t convinced that would be the case two hours ago.”

Before the valet or I can reach for my handle, Cal is already outside, circling the SUV to offer me his hand.

“I’ve got it,” I say.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to walk me in.”

“I know.”