“Harper!” Charlie signs, and then balls his hands into fists that pound the blankets.

  Okay, this is turning into an all-out tantrum.

  I try hugging him. I know he’s hurting. He pushes me away.

  Now, I’m at a complete loss. I can’t stand seeing him like this.

  “Okay,” I sign, once he’s looking at me. “Okay, buddy. I’ll go get her. Okay? Will that make you feel better?”

  He’s gasping for air, but his crying pauses.

  “Is that what you want me to do? To go get her?”

  He nods.

  I swallow.

  What have I just done?

  If my son is projecting some kind of mother role onto Harper, I’ve just encouraged it. This is only going to make things worse when we leave, and that scares me.

  But right now, I just want to soothe him. I want to stop the pain.

  “Okay, champ,” I sign. “I’ll go get her. You stay right here, okay? You can tell T-rex and your bear all about our vacation, okay? Tell them about the snowman we built. I’ll go get Harper.”

  He wipes a hand across his eyes, drying his tears. After I step out of the room, I pause. I peek back in. He’s signing busily to his stuffed animals.

  Good. That will keep him busy for a while.

  Now, I have to follow through on my promise.

  I take the elevator down to the first floor, and as I descend, I think about my son’s attachment to this new friend of ours. He’s not the only one, I realize, as the elevator numbers count down: 10, 9, 8, 7…

  Charlie’s not the only one growing attached to Harper.

  6, 5, 4…

  He’s not the only one projecting a mother role onto her. This whole day, I’ve been treating her almost like she was a part of our little family. The part that’s been so clearly missing for the past five years.

  3, 2, 1.

  The doors fly open, too soon. I’m not done processing the depths of my psyche. But I step out anyways, into the empty hallway.

  She’s not my wife. She’s not Charlie’s mom.

  But she is a wonderful woman. Kind, fun to be around. She’s helped me lighten up, these past few days. I felt more relaxed today than I have in years.

  And she’s great with kids. No wonder she’s in teaching—she’s nurturing, caring, and has a warm, loving presence.

  I reach room 117.

  Maybe this isn’t so wrong, after all. Just because Charlie and I have wounds doesn’t mean that we can’t be around a wonderful woman once in a while. Right? I’ll just knock on her door, and ask for her help with Charlie. Simple as that.

  No big deal.

  I take a deep breath, lift my fist, and knock.

  Chapter 8

  Harper

  I’m in the bathroom brushing my teeth when I hear the knock on the door. I pause, my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth like a tobacco pipe, my ears perked like an attentive deer’s. Is that really knocking?

  I listen. There it is again. My heart does a somersault, and I spit into the sink, rinse, and then wipe my face with a fluffy white hand towel.

  Jason! It has to be Jason.

  I’m frozen, standing in the bathroom. The knocking stops. Did he leave?

  That thought gets me moving, because the thing is, I’m excited to see him. I practically run to the door, and then a second round of knocking hits me like a shock wave, stopping me in my overeager tracks. My heart is hammering in my chest. I reach up and smooth my hair, and take a deep breath. Get it together, Harper.

  I pull the door open, a little bit too fast.

  He’s standing before me, in all of his six-foot-four, muscular, handsome glory. He’s still wearing his T-shirt and jeans, but he has bare feet, and he’s removed his belt.

  His arm is lifted as if he’s poised to knock again. His bicep strains against his T-shirt.

  Damn, this man is sexy.

  There’s a look of surprise on his face.

  “Hi. What’s up?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

  Jason takes a deep breath, and if I didn’t know he was a billionaire CEO with through-the-roof self-confidence, I might think he’s actually nervous about what he’s about to say. “Charlie… Charlie’s asking for you. I’m sorry.”

  “He is? That’s really cute.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about ‘cute’. He’s pretty much having a meltdown.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “He is? He looked so sleepy. What happened?”

  Jason lifts his hand to the back of his neck. He looks down to his bare toes while he scratches. “I… Uh… Well, we were talking about avalanches and I might have scared him a little bit with the scientific facts.” As he raises his head, I see his eyes travel over my body—a little more slowly than I might expect.

  That’s when I realize I’m only wearing my nightgown—a little spaghetti-strap dress made of T-shirt material that rises high on my thighs and falls low on my chest.

  I step back into the hotel room, because in an instant, I feel that I’m standing too close to him, and my skin is way too exposed. I search around for something to throw on over my gown.

  “Sorry,” Jason says, taking a step backwards too. “If I woke you—you were probably already in bed. Don’t worry about this, I’m sorry to bother you, really, I can handle it.”

  He steps back again, as if he’s going to leave. “Goodnight.” he says. And then for a third time, “I’m sorry.”

  My eyes land on a sweatshirt that I’ve tossed over the edge of a chair. It’s baggy, a cover-up for yoga practice. It’s one of my favorite comfy pieces. I reach for it and pull it over my head.

  My legs are still pretty much bare, but at least I’ve covered up my chest. Jason’s retreating down the hallway. I step out the door and close it shut behind me, out of habit.

  “Wait!” I say. “Jason, I’ll come up.”

  I catch up to him, and he turns to me.

  “I don’t mind,” I say. “Really. I’m not ready to fall asleep yet anyways. I think it’s all the sugar from those s’mores.”

  He smiles.

  “I feel a bit wired from them too,” he says. “Twired—tired and wired. One of the many gifts sugar has to offer us.”

  “Twired…” I laugh. “Maybe that’s contributing to Charlie’s meltdown?”

  “Oh, crap.” Jason’s reaches his hand up to his forehead. He rubs his hairline and brow as if trying to scrub his face clean. “First I feed him sugar, then I terrorize him with the realities of avalanches. I really am going to win father of the year award, aren’t I?”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Besides, did you see how happy he was, licking melted chocolate off of his fingers? His face was like a poster advertising pure bliss.”

  We reach the elevator and each fall silent as we step inside.

  The skirt of my nightgown feels too short—I have the self-conscious sensation that I’m barely dressed. The elevator feels too small.

  I get the feeling that Jason is avoiding looking at me, now. He looks everywhere else, instead of me—studying the numbers as they light up one by one as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

  The tense ride ends and we step outside, and make our way down the hallway. Jason walks a few steps ahead of me, leading the way.

  I thought my room was nice…but compared to the this, my room is merely a closet! The penthouse suite is double the size of my apartment at home—well, my old apartment at home. The one I can’t afford anymore, and will be moving out of shortly after vacation ends, but I don’t want to think about that now.

  Floor-to-ceiling windows make up one side of the room, and the view is absolutely breathtaking. I see a star-studded sky. The mountains across the road are lit by moonlight, and rivers of pale snow glisten between craggy silver rocks.

  Inside, the open-concept kitchen, dining room, and sitting area is a mix of chic, modern style and mountain-resort flair. Ceilings tower so high above us that I almost feel like I could be outside. Walking into the space is like walking right into the middle of a page out of an interior design magazine—the kind I used to flip through as a kid, daydreaming about what it’d be like to be wealthy.

  Jason is crossing the sitting area, and I follow him down a wide hallway. The door to Charlie’s room is open, and when we step inside, I see the little guy tucked into a sea of blankets on a bed that could fit a dozen of him. He has a stuffed animal on either side of him, and his eyes are puffy and red.

  “Hey, buddy,” I sign.

  He grins. “Harper!”

  The comic book that we read the day before is lying on the bed, and so I sit down and open it up.

  Charlie moves his body so that he’s closer to me, and I lay a hand on his forehead. I start smoothing down his bangs with one hand as I sign with the other. He presses his head into my palm, and I can tell he’s enjoying the soothing touch.

  Within ten minutes, he’s breathing heavily. I look down, and see that his eyes are closed.

  Jason is standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed and he’s leaning against the frame.

  I slide off of the edge of Charlie’s bed, careful not to disturb him. Clicking off the light, I tiptoe from the room.

  “Okay, not fair,” Jason whispers, as I near him. “You don’t even have kids, and you can do that? I’ve been practicing for six years, and I could only get him to fall asleep like that if I shot him with a tranquilizer gun.”

  “Let’s leave tranquilizer guns out of it,” I whisper. I step past Jason, and hear him swing Charlie’s door closed behind us.

  His voice is slightly louder when he speaks again. “What, you’re saying that wouldn’t be good parenting?” he jokes.

  “I’m not qualified to say what good parenting is, or isn’t” I tease back. “But I’m pretty sure the experts would advise against treating your child like an aggressive animal at the zoo.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Jason says. “How did you get to be so smart?”

  “I have my master’s in teaching, remember.”

  “Ah, right. You’ve probably had years to think about the difference between children and zoo animals.”

  We’re walking through the open suite, and I wonder if he’s leading me toward the door. He pauses, and turns to me. I’m happy to stop walking. I don’t want to leave, just yet.

  “How many years have you been a teacher?” he asks.

  I sense that he wants to know how old I am, but feels that it’s rude to ask. I don’t mind telling him, though.

  “I’m twenty-six. I started my career when I was twenty-three, so it’s been a few years now.”

  Yep. Three years. That’s how long I lasted at my job before getting fired. I look down at the ground. My bare toes are sinking into the fur rug that I’m standing on. I feel my cheeks blush.

  “You’re really good with Charlie,” Jason says. “You must be a great teacher.”

  His compliment has restored my confidence slightly, and I look up again.

  “I can barely manage one kid; I don’t know how you can handle a whole classroom of them.”

  “It’s not as hard as you might think.”

  “Maybe you have some super-stealthy teacher tricks you could share with me,” Jason says. We haven’t moved any closer to the door, and now he looks over toward the kitchen unit. “I think there’s a minibar over there. Shall we see what’s inside?”

  “Are you inviting me to stay?”

  “I’d like to mine your brain for child-care golden nuggets,” he says. “I don’t think my master’s in engineering and business prepared me quite as well for raising a six-year-old as your master’s in education did. Plus…You have years of valuable experience.”

  “Mine my brain!” I lift my hands to my scalp, pretending to protect the resources there.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be painless, I promise.”

  He moves toward the kitchen, and I follow.

  “My room has a minibar,” I say. “I had fun looking at all of the little bottles last night. There were soda flavors we don’t have in the States.”

  “Like what?”

  “Elderberry. Winterberry. Ginger-mint.”

  “Did you mix them with liquor? I bet that elderberry would taste good with gin.”

  “You’re a big elderberry fan, are you?” I take a seat on a stool in the kitchen, while Jason makes his way to the little refrigerator that houses the drinks.

  “Hey, when in Switzerland…” He crouches down and looks at the drinks.

  “I didn’t try any of them, actually,” I offer.

  “Why not?” Jason asks.

  I don’t want to tell him I was too afraid that the charges would be astronomical, and had been drinking water from the tap in the bathroom instead. He probably doesn’t have any idea what it’s like to be on a budget.

  “Oh… I don’t know,” I say vaguely.

  “Well, tonight, we’re going to try all of them,” He says. He pulls out a few bottles and sets them out on the table. “I’ll make us up a little sampler. How does that sound?”

  In response, I simply laugh. I’m feeling giddy.

  “I already know what will go with the ginger-mint,” he says, bending down to retrieve more bottles. “White rum. What do you think?”

  After setting up the various bottles all in a row, he reaches for a few glasses. He sets those out in front of him as well, and then fills two of them with ice.

  “Well, if you’re out of the running for father of the year, I think I know what you might shoot for,” I say. My chin is propped up on my hands, and I can’t take my eyes off of the gorgeous guy who’s going to all of this trouble just for me.

  “What’s that?”

  “Bartender of the year,” I suggest.

  “Oh, I’m sure that will go over well with the parenting judges.”

  I giggle, thinking about our fictional row of stern judges, putting a number on Jason’s abilities as a father.

  “I’m just saying…” I motion toward his impressive array of bottles. “You have a gift.”

  “Don’t say that until you try your first cocktail,” Jason says. He holds up his finger, feigning sudden inspiration. He sidesteps to the refrigerator and returns with a bottle of juice and a container of berries.

  “Cranberry juice,” he says, holding the bottle up. “And strawberries for the garnish.”

  After adding all of his ingredients, he holds a pink drink up to me. The slice of strawberry sits neatly on one side of the glass.

  “What’s it called?” I accept the drink happily.

  “The Swiss Berry Blast,” he says.

  I make a face. “Whoa, that sounds like a popsicle flavor. How about…the Blushing Elderberry?”

  “Blushing… I like that.” He lifts a glass as well. “It is looking a little rosy-cheeked, isn’t it?”

  “This cocktail is ashamed of something,” I say.

  “The Shameful Swiss…Berry Blast,”

  I burst out laughing.

  Jason winks at me and then takes a sip of his drink. I do the same. It’s delicious! Flavorful, light, sparkly, with just the perfect amount of sweetness.

  “Not bad,” Jason says.

  “What kind of alcohol is in this?” I ask.

  “Vodka.”

  “Wow. It’s perfect.” I take another sip.

  “Maybe I should try for bartender of the year.”

  “Did they teach you how to do this at engineering school?” I ask.

  He leans one hand against the counter, and his muscles tense as he holds himself up. I love how toned his arms are. And his chest… Whew. I have to look away so that I don’t start blushing as pink as the drink I’m holding.

  “Nope, this came later. Being responsible for a company goes hand in hand with mixing up a good cocktail. You’ve gotta do something to unwind every once in a while, or else you’ll go crazy.”

  “Stressful work?”

  He nods. “Not in a bad way… I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I love my work. But I do make hundreds of decisions every day, and as the owner of a company, there’s always more fires popping up that need to be put out.”

  I want to know more. I want to know everything. Most of all, I want to hear him talk.

  His voice is sexy and low, and then there’s that hint of an Irish accent… Wow. When he speaks, he looks right at me. It makes me feel like a very lucky woman.

  How many other women would give their left arm to be here, sitting in my place? Across from the handsome billionaire Jason Raynes? Plenty, I’m sure.

  “Tell me what it’s like,” I say, “Owning a company as successful as yours.” I’m afraid my question sounds silly, but I see that Jason’s flattered that I asked it. He seems to enjoy my attention just as much as I’m enjoying his.

  I try to see things from his perspective for a moment. Even though I’ve been ignoring the dating-app-riddled singles scene in Boston for the past three years, I’m aware enough to know that I’m not bad-looking. He’s probably pretty pleased with himself for entertaining a pretty twenty-something in his hotel room.

  As a single dad, maybe Jason doesn’t do much dating himself. In fact, I’m getting the feeling from him that this is a special, out-of-the ordinary situation.

  Which makes me wonder—is he newly single? Where is Charlie’s mom? What happened between them?

  I listen as Jason tells me more about his company, but really, now I’m trying to figure out how I can bring his ex into the conversation. I don’t want to come right out and ask him if he’s divorced…but I really want to know. I have to know.

  As we chat, I sip my Blushing Swiss Elderberry Blast, or whatever we called it. The drink goes down almost too easily. Before I know it, Jason has mixed up another award-worthy cocktail. This one is minty and refreshing, and I have to be careful to take slow sips instead of gulping the whole thing down.

  “Are you cold?” Jason asks.

  I realize that I’m rubbing my upper arms between sips. As the clouds have been rolling in, gradually turning the sky outside an inky shade of black, I’ve felt the temperature dropping. I am a bit chilly.

  “Maybe our next drink should be a hot toddy?” I suggest.