She raised her eyebrows. The door was half open, and she was inside, and he was out in the hall. Her heart was pounding, and her mouth was dry. She felt scared, but also thrilled. Men didn't do things like this. Maybe they did in Paris, or Rome, or incredibly romantic places halfway around the world. But men flying from Providence to Washington didn't.

“Fate didn't know where I was staying,” she said.

“A plane, a snowstorm, some tulips, I, and thou,” he said, grinning wickedly, poetically.

“Hmm,” she said.

She looked up and down the hallway. They were completely alone. If he had bad intentions, wouldn't he have already pushed his way in? As if reading her mind, he took half a step backward, away from her.

“Regardless of how fate brought us together,” he said. “I know one thing. The tulips are for you. And you alone.” Again, that grin. “I'll just take myself off to my room and dream about you.”

“Your room? You're staying in the hotel?”

He nodded. “Okay—now you know my secret. I pulled up, walked in, and saw you just getting into the elevator. I thought—wow. We really should have shared that cab. Two coincidences in a row—same plane, same cab, same hotel. Whoa, that's three.”

“So you jumped into the next elevator and guessed my floor?”

“Nope.” Hazel eyes twinkling. “I bribed the bellman. I'm sorry. It's forward of me, I know. I ran to the florist, picked out the prettiest flowers I could find, and got back as soon as I could. Honestly, I didn't want to miss a minute of time with you.”

She chuckled. He really was funny—and very handsome. He had sharp features that reminded her of a young Cary Grant, with bright eyes and a strong jaw and that quick, fun-loving smile. Lily felt herself smiling in his presence—after just five minutes. People were always telling her she was too serious, and she knew she was.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he said.

“We don't even know each other's names,” she said.

“I'm Edward Hunter,” he said.

“I'm Mara Jameson,” she said.

“Okay—now we know each other's names!”

She laughed. He handed her the tulips; she brought them up to her nose so she could smell them. Tulips in December—how extravagant, she thought.

“Please, Mara?” he asked. “I've come all this way. Don't send me away without letting me take you to dinner.”

“All this way?”

His smile lit up his eyes, and he stepped so close, she could feel his warm breath on her forehead. Mara had come to Washington for work—she was very focused and ambitious, trying to get her business off the ground. She felt hesitant, afraid to say yes, but he was smiling at her with such bright eyes.

“Don't break my heart, Mara Jameson,” he said, cupping the side of her face.