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"Better," Ivy said, sliding her drink onto the low table between them. "I can hear myself think."

"And what are you thinking?" the womanasked, keeping a careful distance on the opposite side of the booth.

Ivy met her gaze directly. "I'm thinking that we're both alone in this hotel for the night. That we're both looking for…something. And that we're both unlikely to find a better option."

The woman's expression remained impassive, but her knuckles whitened slightly around her glass. "You're very direct."

"Life's too short not to be." Ivy leaned forward. "I'm staying in room 1247. No names, no backstory, just tonight. If you're interested, finish your drink and meet me there in fifteen minutes."

She stood before the woman could respond, gathering her clutch and her half-finished whiskey. "Or don't. No pressure, no expectations, no offense taken either way."

Ivy moved toward the exit, feeling the weight of the woman's gaze between her shoulder blades. She didn't look back. That would show uncertainty, and whatever else Ivy might be feeling tonight, uncertainty wasn't part of it.

The elevator doors closed silently aroundher, and she exhaled slowly, watching the floor numbers climb. Her heartbeat quickened with each passing second. It had been a gamble, propositioning a stranger so boldly. Especially a stranger who radiated self-control like a forcefield.

But there had been something in those dark eyes—a carefully banked fire that matched the one burning in Ivy's chest. A recognition of kindred isolation, perhaps.

And if she was wrong? If the woman didn't come?

Then Ivy would spend her last night of freedom alone with a bottle from the minibar and her thoughts for company.

She stepped into her suite, the door clicking shut behind her. Fifteen minutes. She set her clutch on the entryway table and carried her drink to the balcony doors. The ocean stretched before her, black and restless under the night sky.

Fifteen minutes to discover whether she'd be facing that vastness alone.

Twelve minutes had passed when a soft knock interrupted the crash of waves against the cliffs below. Ivy's heart lurched in herchest, but she took her time crossing the room, willing her pulse to steady. She paused at the door, one hand pressed against the cool wood, and drew in a deep breath before opening it.

The woman stood in the hallway, hands in the pockets of her charcoal blazer, her posture simultaneously relaxed and alert. The warm lighting in the corridor brought out auburn highlights in her dark hair, softening the severe cut that framed her strong jawline. Up close, Ivy could see flecks of amber in her brown eyes, unexpected warmth in their otherwise guarded depths.

"You came," Ivy said, stepping back to allow her entry.

"I did." The woman moved past her into the suite, her presence immediately filling the space. She smelled of sandalwood and something citrusy—clean, subtle, intentional. "I almost didn't."

"What changed your mind?" Ivy closed the door, the electronic lock engaging with a soft beep that seemed impossibly loud in the sudden quiet between them.

The woman turned, studying Ivy with that same measured gaze from the bar. "Curiosity, maybe," she said finally. "Or perhaps I'm just tired of saying no to things I want."

Heat bloomed in Ivy's chest. "And what is it you want, exactly?"

Instead of answering, the woman crossed to the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominated one wall of the suite. The moonlight streaming in transformed her profile into a silver silhouette against the darkness beyond.

"Nice view," she said.

"I didn't invite you up for the scenery." Ivy moved toward the wet bar, her heels sinking into the plush carpet. "Drink?"

"No." The woman turned back to face her. "I think we're both aware of why I'm here. More alcohol would just…complicate things."

Ivy abandoned the idea of a drink and instead approached slowly, giving the woman time to change her mind. The distance between them seemed charged with electricity, each step decreasing the voltage while simultaneously increasing the current.

When they stood a breath apart, Ivy reached up, hovering her fingertips just shy of the woman's face. "May I?"

The woman nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.

Ivy traced the line of her jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin and the slight tension in the muscle beneath. The woman remained perfectly still, only the quickening of her breath betraying her response to the touch.

"You're very controlled," Ivy observed, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I wonder what it would take to make you lose that control."

The woman caught Ivy's wrist, her grip firm but not painful. "You assume I want to lose control."