“Then you’re going to need to be more than Just Jack. Want to cough up that last name now?” she said, making a gimme motion with her hands.

He parted his lips to answer, but was cut short when Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” started playing, a loud crescendo of the most famous part of the piece of music. Michelle twitched, her shoulders visibly tensing. She sprang out of bed, hunting for her purse, then fishing around in it for her phone as she buttoned her shirt. Possibilities flashed through his brain—was she married? Was this the Bat Call from a friend, saving her from a man she didn’t want?

“Michelle here,” she said in a crisp, business-like tone as she tucked her shirt into her skirt.

Maybe it was work. He didn’t know what she did for a living.

Listening to the call, she nodded several times as she stuffed her feet back into her black pumps, then smoothed a hand down her shirt. “I understand. Please tell her I will call her in three minutes.”

She hung up, and sighed heavily. “Jack. I’m so, so sorry. That was my service. A patient of mine needs me. But I swear I want to see you again, so please take my number and call me tomorrow, okay?”

He narrowed his eyes, not sure if he believed her. “If you just want a one-time thing, that’s cool. Or if you’re married and rushing home to your husband, maybe let me know that too so I can stay far away.”

She walked quickly to the bed, bending down to drop a kiss on his lips. “I swear I’m not married, not even close. And I haven’t been involved with anyone in ages, and I would really like to see you again, so give me your number and I’ll call you right now so you have mine in your phone,” she said, and she seemed so earnest and bullshit-free that he chose to believe her. He knew what she did now; she was a doctor, and that made sense since she’d said she made people feel better. Noble profession, and all. He rattled off his number, and she dialed it. His phone sounded from his pocket.

She arched an eyebrow. “You like Ravel?”

He nodded. “Classical music aficionado here.”

“We have so much to talk about. Text me tomorrow. And, Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the two best orgasms of my life.”

“Next time, we’ll make it a double of a double.”

“I’m going to hold you to it. And on that, I need to run,” she said, slinging her purse higher on her shoulder then opening the door. It clanged loudly behind her when it shut, the sound of the night ending far too soon.

He shifted to his back, tucking his hands behind his bed, and staring at the ceiling. Too bad the room didn’t have an hourly rate, because they’d only used it for thirty minutes.

The sound of a siren echoed in the distance, the noise of New York inserting itself into another moment. The room closed in on him, suddenly too small, too empty as he longed for both her company and her body.