And that’s what I do for the next four or five hours. I get lost in my work. In the anticipated, in the unexpected, and in the new and noteworthy. I win over a new client, review a proposal from a PR firm I contacted yesterday, and talk to a few social media analysts to see what each offers.

It’s mid-afternoon when I emerge from the folksy tunes and dark walls of the Grind Me Coffeehouse. It’s cozy and quaint and has served as my office for most of the day, but the need to stretch my legs and feel the sun on my face has won over my need to cross more things off both my daily and my monthly checklist goals.

I search in my bag for my sunglasses and just as I’m about to put them on, I look up and meet Gunner’s eyes. He’s across the street, and he freezes momentarily at the sight of me before jogging across to me.

“Hi,” he says and I swear to God, if going all warm and fuzzy were a thing, I would vouch that it just happened to me.

But that isn’t me and it’s definitely not Sara’s, the hotel desk clerk’s, world.

He smiles—or rather he was already smiling and it just grew wider—and the sight of it and the warmth in his eyes already has my body singing.

“Hi,” I say back to him in that awkward, I want to kiss him, but maybe I shouldn’t, because I don’t know if we were just a one-night stand type of awkward. “You didn’t call.”

And if we were a one-night stand, now he’s going to think I’m crazy.

He angles his head and his expression softens. “I didn’t want to seem too—”

“I get it. I didn’t mean to say that.” I give a quick shake of my head and busy my fingers with playing with the strap of my purse. “I just wanted to make sure the date wasn’t FUBAR so to speak.”

Gunner laughs. We stare at each other on the sidewalk, and then without preamble, he steps up, puts his hands on either side of my cheeks, and full on kisses me.

And it’s not a brush on the lips, I’m going to placate you, kiss. This is the kind of kiss that makes me forget I’m holding my bag or that I’m on the sidewalk of downtown.

It’s equal parts heart and heat. Like a drug I didn’t know I was addicted to until I had it again.

“What was that for?” I ask, a little breathless, a lot enamored, when the kiss breaks. He leaves his hands framing my face so he can run his thumb over my lips.