Page 5 of My Best French Wedding

“Looking for you.”

“Ta-da.” She waved a hand at herself, and Walter noticed she’d kicked off her pointy red shoes. It was like seeing a gladiator postcombat, without their armor.

“Those can’t be comfortable.”

“You get used to it. Once the circulation cuts off.” She rubbed her instep against the opposite calf, and Walter had the insane urge to offer to massage her foot.

“Are you enjoying looming over me?” Hildy tipped her head back to look up at him with an exaggerated squint. Walter found that he missed having her right there in his face. It hadn’t occurred to him until then that she almost always wore some kind of heels.

“Yes, looming is one of my top hobbies.”

“Lucky for you there are plenty of other shadowy corners in this hotel.”

That was probably his cue to leave, but his feet seemed to be stuck to the carpet. He wondered if it was only the urge to free her toes that had brought Hildy out here. “Are you worried about the awards?”

“Maybe,” she replied, after a microscopic pause.

“Too much tequila?” he guessed.

“Are you implying I can’t hold my liquor?”

Walter shook his head, not rising to the bait.

“Can I be honest?” Hildy asked, before the silence got too heavy.

“Honest or transparent?” he countered, after biting back a knee-jerkI don’t know, can you?

“What are you, the copy desk?”

“I just meant it’s not like you to hold back. Or ask permission to speak freely.”

“You’d be surprised how much I keep inside.”

She might as well have poured lighter fluid on his curiosity. Walter tried to play it cool. “Such as?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She mimed turning a key in front of her lips—and then dropping it down the front of her dress. He tried not to look, but it was a losing battle.

“Don’t you ever get tired?” She gestured between them. “Of this. It’s exhausting.”

“Is that all it is?”

Her lips puckered with suspicion, or possibly annoyance. “What do you mean?”

“Isn’t it just a teensy bit exciting?” he teased, pinching his thumb and forefinger together. “Gets your blood pumping?”

“Speak for yourself.” She leaned back until her shoulder blades touched the wallpaper, springing forward again so fast Walter instinctively reached out to steady her. “It’s scratchy,” she said, ignoring his outstretched hands. “The wall.”

And that dress would offer as much protection as a soap bubble. “Did you hurt yourself?”

She took another step toward him, chin raised in defiance. “Like you care.”

Walter forgot to reply, distracted by her closeness. A beat of silence passed. He’d lost the conversational thread.Don’t ask about her perfume, he silently ordered his mouth. It smelled like jasmine.

Hildy shivered under the weight of his gaze.

“Do you want my jacket?” he asked, sliding it off.

“Why, am I nipping out? I put those little things on.” She circled a finger in front of the peak of each breast. “You know what I’m talking about.”