11

As the car draws up to a grand hotel, I’m not relishing what’s coming, trying not to over-analyze any of this. Before I know it, his driver is opening my door. I step out as Jake follows behind me; we immediately see the hovering photographers with long-lensed cameras hung around their necks and they pique their interest as Jake slides smoothly up behind me, reaching his full height. Even without touching me, I sense him behind me. My body suddenly on high alert at his proximity. Nerves twist my insides to mush.

“Ready?” he whispers and loops his fingers in mine as he comes around me to lead, pulling me toward the doormen. I can’t concentrate on much else except the uncomfortable heat of his skin on mine and the way his hand practically dwarves my own. I’ve never let anyone hold my hand … Well, my mother, maybe once or twice, but she doesn’t count. It’s not a welcome experience and I have to steel against the urge to recoil and snap my hand away. Too soft, too hot, too intimate.<