He wore running shorts and a white T-shirt, moving along at a stride that would have killed her in under thirty seconds. She wondered if maybe he would keep going, pretending not to see her, but someone had raised him right. His footsteps slowed, then stopped altogether as he pulled out his earphones. He’d been running hard and his breathing was labored as he drew air into his lungs. He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and swiped at his temples with the back of his arm. His shirt clung to him. His shorts did the same.

He was sweaty all over, and she shivered.

Wow.

The single word was a completely involuntary reaction. She couldn’t help herself as she stared at him, all intelligent thought flew right out of her head, because from head to toe the man was freaking gorgeous.

“You settled in okay?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

With a slow nod, he kept looking at her with that steady gaze, his brows knit together as he stepped a little closer, his gait easy and relaxed now, as if preserving his energy for other things, like chucking a ball at a batter at ninety-five miles an hour.

Or maybe having sex . . . Good God, what was wrong with her? “I was just getting some air,” she said a little weakly. “I’m good now.”

He held the hotel door open for her, and as she brushed by his damp, hot body, she had to restrain herself from leaning in and touching.

Pathetic. She was pathetic.

But knowing that didn’t stop her gaze from drifting over him, down his damp throat, down the T-shirt covering his broad chest, or from remembering how in the last doorway they’d stood together, they’d kissed. When she looked up, she found that dark gaze locked on hers, his solemn and quiet. “In?” he asked when she didn’t move.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Thanks.” She managed a smile, and with a nod, he moved off, heading toward the elevators. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that she realized she was standing there in the center of the lobby, mouth open, staring after him.

“He does seem to have that affect on women.”

Holly turned to face Samantha. “Hi. I was just—”

“Don’t try to talk until you’ve had a healthy dose of chocolate.” She nodded with her chin toward the café, just off the lobby. “Dessert?”

“Sure,” Holly managed. “Dessert sounds good.” In lieu of sex, it would have to do.

As it had for far too long now.

They seated themselves and ordered fudge brownies, which came pronto, warm on their plates and then melting in their mouths.