Page 15 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
I reach for my phone and position the lens at just the right angle. “It’s just… this light is perfect.”
This light… and you.
As nonsensical as it sounds, because I’ve known this man for all of two seconds, I’m sodrawnto him. My heart cries a little at the thought I may not ever see him again, and even if I did, he probably won’t be thinking about me in that way. I’m just a quirky, infatuated hotel host keeping a guest from feeling a bit lonely, that’s all.
I snap the photograph then lower the phone and my gaze, because an embarrassing blush is now creeping up my cheeks.
“Can I see?”
I bite my lip and hand him the phone. He looks at the photograph thoughtfully, then passes it back to me. As I take it from him, he curls his fingers around mine. The same spasm of electricity I felt when he caught me on the wet floor returns to my arm, taking my breath away. Our eyes dart to each other and my lip pops free of my teeth.
Neither of us speaks.
“You have a good eye,” he says eventually, his words cracking on the light breeze.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
A waiter appears at the table and oh so slowly, Andrew uncurls his fingers and my hand slips away. I stare at my palm, half-expecting it to burst into flames.
Despite knowing this friendship is fleeting, the fact remains I still don’t know much about this man. A birth chart can tell me a lot of things about a person, but not everything. Not material facts like what he does for work, where he lives, whether or not he’s married… And not knowing a single fact about him is eating away at the back of my mind.
I wait until we’ve placed our lunch orders and the waiter has left.
“What exactly do you do for a living?” I ask. He evaded this question previously with vague responses and I find the mystery unnerving.
I need to know he isn’t one ofthem. A criminal.
“You don’t want to know.” His voice is surprisingly soft yet it sends a dart of alarm into my braced chest.
I cough. “Why?”
“It’s boring.”
My head tilts and I smile. “Can I be the judge of that?”
He sighs and almost rolls his eyes. “I own a company that specializes in data mining. See? Boring.”
“That’s not boring,” I laugh. “What exactly does “data mining” involve?”
He chews on his lip. “I collect data and analyze it. I look for patterns, then I sell the findings to people who can use them.”
I blink at him, not really understanding any more for his explanation.
“What about you?”
I shrug. “You’ve seen what I do.”
“No.” His voice cuts sharp. “I’ve seenyou.”
A jet stream of lava winds its way down my spine. I need to pause before I try to form a sentence.
Then he continues. “Do you enjoy working in a hotel?”
My smile breaks. “Yes, I do. It’s always been my dream.”
He watches me attentively.
“I’ve been wanting to do an internship with a good hotel since high school. I got really lucky. My sister’s fiancé knows the owner and put in a call. They’re getting married here actually, my sister and Cristiano. In two weeks.”
