Emotional Baggage

Chapter One

The carpet was soft beneath her feet.

"Here. Stand here," he murmured, his breath on her ear. His left hand was on her waist, his right arm around her back, his bare chest against hers. He nudged her a few inches to her left. "There. Good."

The TV was on, a reporter for a cable news network talking about the weather. Outside this hotel room in Hong Kong, in another corner of the world, the rain was falling. Stocks were being traded, the sun was rising; all while this was happening. She should be used to this by now, right? But it still excited her. Maybe even shocked some parts of her. The other sides of her insides.

He ran his hand across her lower back, down the right cheek of her ass. His fingers reached for the hem of the dark blue tee she was wearing. His.

"Such a tease," she whispered. "We're not gunning for an Oscar here."

He nipped at her earlobe. She bit back a moan. "Shush. I'm enjoying this."

So was she. The skin on the backs of her thighs tingled. She tingled in other places, too.

"Just get on with it," she muttered in mock irritation. "It's a photo, right? Not Scorsese?"

"I said, shush." He pulled the hem of the shirt up until his hand rested on the small of her back. His knuckles brushed against her skin. "Want to see?"

She turned her head to see their reflection in the full-length mirror: his denim-clad legs trapping hers, his arms around her. And her ass, so much rounder and bigger compared to the rest of her body, bare and in full view.

"Face me, love." Their gazes met, locked. He raised the phone by her left ear. Click.

"Do with it as you wish," he murmured, pressing his lips to her neck as he placed her phone on the shelf above the safe deposit box, pushing his camera bag to one side. Then he tugged at her arm and threw her onto the bed.

"Now we can get on with it," Aidan said with a wolfish grin, and Lily laughed.

* * *

She woke up in the middle of the night. That quirky British traveler was talking about what you could do in Vienna for 24 hours, making Lily sigh longingly. Ah, Vienna. Like Paris without the Parisians.

Thirsty, she eased herself slowly from the bed, crossed the room for a bottle of water then crawled back under the covers. Aidan stirred, turning to face her, and Lily took one long look at him.

Aidan Rutherford, the best failure of her life. Floppy, silky, light-brown hair. Perpetually sunburnt skin. Hazel eyes that, when open, seemed to always be on the brink of laughter. Her lips curved into a small smile, remembering that night they met three years ago.

It was her second night in Hong Kong when she wandered into that small bar off Nathan Road, hoping a beer or four would ease the pain, still her mind. It had been very easy to get lost in Hong Kong and she welcomed it. People moved fast, people didn't care, and it was exactly what she needed: a dervish to dissolve into.

Seeing him standing behind the bar, he looked like something she needed, too.

Floppy hair he brushed off his eyes when he bent down to grab a bottle of beer. A wide, easy smile he flashed her when he set a bottle of Stella in front of her.

They hadn't talked much after that. Another bartender started serving her drinks, and she lost him in the crowd. But he was by the door on her way out, and something went through her at the sight of him standing there: the ghost of curiosity. The spirit of desire. The sister of want. And because she was in another country, because she'd come to escape, she gave in.