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“
Um, olives?” she said, smiling innocently. She couldn’t do this, whatever this was. “Take it. I think I prefer it sweet and fruity. I’m going to the bar.” She stood up, pretending to be fascinated by something happening across the room while he stepped aside.

Standing at the bar waiting for someone to notice her, Elizabeth contemplated going back to her room. She didn
’t belong here. Besides, if she didn’t get her eight hours of sleep, she’d look like something that had crawled out of a crypt. She wasn’t twenty anymore, or even thirty. She could feel the hot breath of forty on her neck. And its hand on her shoulder. She looked behind her, half-expecting it to be Sebastian. She felt a mixture of disappointment and relief when she saw it was the scriptwriter.

“
Can we get something sweet and fruity for the lady?” Matt called to the bartender. “A lemon drop?” He looked at her for confirmation. She nodded her head.

“
Thanks,” she said. Of course, she thought. She and Matt were the outsiders, the only two people in the club who didn’t have the mark of coolness stamped on their hands, visible only under the black light of the gaze of the truly hip.

Elizabeth took a long swallow of the drink the bartender handed her. She raised her glass to Matt and smiled.

“Better?” he asked.

“
So much!” she said, her voice too loud. She hadn’t eaten in hours, she realized, and the alcohol was going straight to her head. Suddenly, she felt giddy and talkative. “You know, I was just about ready to pack it in. This isn’t really my scene.” That was an understatement. Her scene was the farmer’s market on a Saturday morning.

“
Really?” Matt asked, “You look like you fit right in with the rest of the beautiful people.”

“
Are you being facetious?” she asked, squinting at the scriptwriter.

“
No,” he said, leaning closer, wiggling his eyebrows comically. “I’m trying to be flirtatious.”

Elizabeth burst out laughing.
“Well, I suck at flirting, so don’t bother.”

“
Yeah, me too, apparently. Out of practice.” He shrugged and held up his left hand to show her his wedding band. She laughed, raising hers too.

“
Hey, do you want to dance?” Matt asked. “You’ve been doing this,” he shimmied his shoulders, “pretty much since you came in.”

Elizabeth laughed. She hadn
’t noticed it, but now that he mentioned it, she realized he was right. She tossed back the rest of her drink and put the glass down on the bar. “Why not?” she said. So she had a good ten or fifteen years on most of the women on the dance floor? She didn’t know any of them, or anyone else in this bar for that matter. And after her week as so-called consultant, she was positive she wouldn’t see Cullen or any of his crew again. What did she care what they thought, anyhow?

Elizabeth strode onto the dance floor, letting the sound of the music wash over her. She didn
’t recognize the song, but that had never mattered to her. She started to move with the beat, shaking her shoulders and twisting her hips while Matt did the white man’s shuffle across from her. She closed her eyes and danced like she was alone, letting the music dictate how she moved her body.

Feeling someone pressing up against her back, Elizabeth opened her eyes. She hadn
’t given Matt the wrong idea, had she? No, he was still biting his lower lip and moving side to side across from her, concentrating.

“
I like the way you move,” Sebastian whispered along with the song, running his hands down her arms. He clasped her hands and spun her around to face him, pulling her in close. “But I can tell you’re used to dancing alone.”

She tried to take a step back, but he held her, his hands warm and firm on her waist. He was so close she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, feel the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt. She didn
’t know where to put her hands. She rested them tentatively on his shoulders, wedging a bit of space between them with her elbows.

“
I like dancing alone,” she said.

“
But you like dancing with me more.”

Elizabeth had to admit that she did. A little too much. Perhaps it was because she was a touch tipsy, but it felt like they were moving as one, the music pulsing through them in time with the blood in their veins. Until she stepped on Sebastian
’s foot.

“
Oh, God. Sorry.” Elizabeth stepped away from him.

Sebastian laughed and pulled her back, turning her around so she was facing away from him.
“See what I mean? You’re not used to dancing with a partner. But I can teach you.” He was speaking with his lips touching Elizabeth’s ear, sending little thrills down her spine with each word.

“
Oh, yeah?”

“
Yeah,” he said, “I can teach you a lot of things. And I bet you can teach me a few things, too.” The whole length of his torso was pressed tight against her back. She was facing Matt, who was still bobbing to the music like an automaton. He lifted his eyebrows, questioning. She shook her head. Sebastian spun her around to face him again.

He leaned his forehead against hers, still holding her close, his hips grinding against hers.

“Lesson number one,” he whispered. “Dancing is like fucking. It’s so much better when you do it with a partner.”

A thousand thoughts flitted through Elizabeth
’s mind: Oh, God this feels good. He is hot! Shit. I shouldn’t be doing this. Steve. No. We’re just dancing! Completely innocent. Did I put on enough deodorant? Emily and Nina will die when I tell them! Oh, my God, does he have a ...?”

With a funny thrill, half panic, half exultation, she realized that
, beneath his low-slung Levis, Sebastian was hard as a rolling pin.

Chapter 4

Elizabeth lay on her bed, still fully dressed, her head spinning
– and not just from the hastily downed lemon drop. Had this night really happened to her, Elizabeth Holmes, wife, mother and fledgling writer from small-town Iowa? She felt like she was in a Stanley Kubrick movie.

Seconds after she had felt Sebastian
’s erection pressed against her, she felt someone else grinding into her from behind. Someone small, soft and smelling of lemon. “Mmm,” Naomi purred, “I am so feeling this song, aren’t you guys?” The filling in a movie star sandwich, Elizabeth didn’t even know if she was moving in time with the music anymore. She panicked.

“
Actually, I’m a bit ... whoo!” She disentangled herself from the two actors, flapping her hand in front of her face, and started walking backwards off the dance floor. “I’m just going to ...” Elizabeth pointed in the direction of the bar. She didn’t think they could hear her over the music anyway.

Elizabeth walked straight past the bar to the exit. After a quick glance at the elevator, she headed for the emergency stairs, taking them two at a time until
she was out of breath. She slumped down onto the stairs and, leaning against the wall, put her head in her hands and laughed, silently. Oh, she was cool, alright.

Elizabeth heard the click of the emergency door below and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They were getting closer. Definitely a man. Sebastian. He slowed down as he rounded the bend and saw her sitting on the landing. He stopped, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall facing her, one foot propped against it. A lazy smile played over his face as he gazed at her.

“Why did you leave?” he asked. “Was it getting too touchy-feeling for you?”

She laughed.
“You could say that.”

“
Yeah, Naomi can be a little over-enthusiastic.”

“
Right,” Elizabeth said, looking down at her toes. She couldn’t look him in the eye, not after what had happened on the dance floor. If she had been disgusted, it would have been one thing. But she had been aroused. Intensely.

“
You didn’t leave because of me, did you?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts.

“
No, no,” she lied.

He walked up the stairs toward her, slowly.
“I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I? Nervous?” He sat down beside her, his hip touching hers.

“
Maybe a little.” Elizabeth was finding it hard to breathe, despite having recovered from her ill-advised sprint up the steps.

“
Oh, yeah?”

Elizabeth could feel his eyes on her. He reached over and touched a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear.
“Now, why is that?”

She glanced over at him, quickly. His mouth was curved in a knowing smile.

“I think you know why,” she said, pushing herself up to standing by leaning against the wall, away from Sebastian. He stood up too, putting one hand on the wall on either side of her. She turned her head away from him, looking at the door on the landing, so close.

“
Is it because I want you?” he whispered. Elizabeth felt electric tingles running through her nerves. “No,” he said. “That’s not it.” He leaned in closer, his cheek touching hers. “It’s because you want me.”

“
Sebastian, I’m married.” She said it for herself as much as him.

“
I know.” He pressed his body against her, grabbing her hair, his elbows against the wall. He ran the tip of his tongue along her jawbone, chin to ear, with deliberate slowness. A wave of lust washed over Elizabeth. She closed her eyes.

“
No,” she whispered, but she didn’t move, didn’t resist. She felt Sebastian step away from her and opened her eyes. He was leaning against the railing just looking at her, his expression unreadable. They both heard the click of the door at the same time.

“
Sebastian? Seb?” It was Naomi. “Are you up there?”

Elizabeth made a split-second decision. She turned and
ran to the door, pulling it open and running down the hall to the elevator. She pressed the button, her pulse still racing. She glanced down the hallway. Back in her room, lying on her bed, she wondered what had just happened. She traced the path Sebastian had licked along her jaw and shivered. She hadn’t felt like this since ... she couldn’t remember. Definitely before Steve. Steve’s face popped into her mind, not as it was now, puffy and jowly, but the way he had looked when they first met. Sweet and boyish, a quiet intelligence dancing in his gray eyes. Elizabeth felt a throb of guilt that propelled her off the bed.

She walked over to the mirror above the bureau and stared at her reflection. It hadn
’t changed. She was still the same. “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” she told herself, searching her face for whatever had compelled Sebastian to come on to her. She wasn’t ugly, she knew, but she was no Naomi Clamp.

As if thinking of Naomi had conjured her, Elizabeth heard her high-pitched giggle out in the hallway. She tip-toed to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening.

“Sebastian, what are you doing?”

It was Naomi. Right outside her door.

“Shh.” That was Sebastian. The sound of his voice bumped Elizabeth’s heart rate up a few notches.

She heard scratching noises, and then Naomi.
“Come on, Seb. I want to go. Now.” She giggled again. The tone of her voice, breathy and almost whining, made it clear exactly where she wanted to go.

“
Oh, yeah?” She heard Sebastian say. Then not quite silence. Muffled sounds. Breathing. They were kissing, Elizabeth realized, feeling a hot arrow of jealousy shoot through her chest. She pressed herself against the wall, feeling the jealously shift to anger. She wanted to stomp away from the door, but if she did, they would hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floor.

Naomi laughed again, low and throaty. Then Elizabeth heard another sound, the soft
shoop of a piece of paper sliding under the door.

“
What was that about?” It was Naomi’s voice, but fainter. They were walking away. Elizabeth crouched down to pick up the paper, straining to hear Sebastian’s reply.

“
Just a question about Michel,” she thought she heard him say.

The note was written on a piece of hotel stationery, folded in half. She opened it. Written in a tiny, tight scrawl, it said,
“I’ll be thinking of you.”

*

Elizabeth didn’t sleep well that night, even after a long, steamy shower in which she used nearly all of the Keihl’s body wash the hotel provided. She couldn’t stop thinking about Sebastian.

Finally
, at 6:00, after tossing and turning and dozing fitfully for hours, she gave up and got up, pulling on her sports bra and stretch pants. She corralled her hair into a loose ponytail, slipped on a fleece and her Nikes, and left the room.

The Equinox gym was just around the corner. Elizabeth had debated going for a run outside but decided that getting lost on the streets of New York at dawn wouldn
’t be the best way to start the day. She gave the unnervingly perky girl at the reception desk her room key.

“
Thanks, Elizabeth,” she said, swiping the card then handing it back to her with a plush towel. “There’s a Kickspyo class starting in a few minutes if you’re interested.”

“
A what?” Elizabeth asked.

“
Oh, you’ve never done Kickspyo? It’s a combination of kick-boxing, spinning and yoga. It’s amaaazing for your core,” the receptionist enthused, lifting up her shirt to reveal a fat-free six pack. Elizabeth unconsciously put her hand on her own slim but toneless stomach.

“
Maybe next time,” she smiled, taking her towel into the gym. “I just want to run.” She glanced through the window of the studio as she passed it. The people standing around inside chatting casually and stretching were a mix of ages, ethnicities and genders, but they were all ripped and groomed and their gym clothes looked like they cost more than Elizabeth’s car.

Elizabeth found an empty treadmill and
, after fiddling with the touch screen for a few minutes, managed to get it started. Straddling the moving belt, she tucked her earphones in and cued up her Ass-Kickin’ Playlist, the one she made for those days when her laptop translated everything she wrote into Cyrillic, Gwen decided she was never wearing shoes again and Keenan said “shit” to his grandma at breakfast.

As Metallica
’s “Enter Sandman” pounded in her ears, Elizabeth decided to dispense with a warm up and started running, as fast and as hard as she could, until her heart felt like it was going to rip out of her chest. By the time she had reached “Nothing Else Matters,” her cool down song, she really felt like nothing did. Red-faced and dripping sweat, she headed for the weights.

She had just picked up two ten-pound free weights when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Sebastian in a black t-shirt and running shorts, his muscular thighs and biceps on display.

“Oh, hi,” she said, glad that she was already red and breathless from running. “You’re up early.” She faced the mirror and started to do hammer curls, avoiding his eyes in the reflection, trying to concentrate on her form.

“
Yeah. I didn’t sleep much.”

“
I bet.” She brought the weight up, slowly, contracting her bicep. She had nice arms, Steve always told her. They were the one part of her body she was completely happy with.

Sebastian laughed. A half-embarrassed chuckle. Elizabeth glanced up at his reflection. He was looking at the floor, biting his lower lip.

“Did you get my note?” He looked up, suddenly, catching her eyes in the mirror. She couldn’t look away.

“
Yeah, I got it. So?” She felt anger blooming like the yeast flowers in her sourdough starter, but she kept a nonchalant smile on her face. Sebastian didn’t need to know that she cared.

“
So. I was. Thinking about you.” He traced his finger along her jaw where he had licked her. “All night.” His eyes held hers in the mirror. She nearly dropped the weights.

“
You know,” she said, hastily putting the dumbbells back in their places, “I don’t think I’m up for this today. I’ll see you on set.” She started to walk toward the change room, but Sebastian grabbed her wrist.

“
Hey. They aren’t shooting my scene until two. I thought I’d check out what’s on at MOMA. Come with me.”

“
I’d better not,” Elizabeth said. Her wrist, with Sebastian’s warm fingers wrapped around it, felt more alive than the rest of her body, somehow.

He let her go.
“Oh, right. They need you on set,” he smirked.

She laughed, rubbing her wrist.
“Mean!” she said.

He smiled at her, that knowing smile, those incredibly long eyelashes.

She started walking away. “Actually, I’m meeting my agent for lunch, so...”she said, over her shoulder.

“
Right, another time,” he said.

“
Right.”

This time, s
he took a cold shower.

*

As Elizabeth stepped out onto the street, the brisk wind hit her like a slap. It was one of those gray March days that felt more like January, the sky low, a promise of snow in the air. She wrapped her scarf around her neck, wishing she had taken the time to blow-dry her hair. Fortunately, the hotel wasn’t far. She was heading toward it when she saw something out of the corner of her eye that stopped her. It was Sebastian. Wearing a navy pea-coat and jeans, a toque pulled down over his crew cut, he was crouched down beside a homeless man, talking to him and petting his dog, a yellow mutt that looked cleaner and better fed than its owner. Elizabeth stood and stared, transfixed. Sebastian shook the man’s hand, laughing and stood up. He gave the dog one last pat and slung his gym bag over his shoulder, walking away in the opposite direction of the hotel. As if she was being pulled by a magnet, Elizabeth found herself being drawn after him.

As she passed the homeless man, she glanced down at him. He was holding up a bill and talking to his dog.
“That’s a hundred. Is that a hundred? That’s a hundred.”

Elizabeth told herself she was not following Sebastian, she was just going for a stroll in what happened to be the same direction. The wind swirled around her, and she pulled up the collar of her coat, shrinking into her scarf. She could feel her hair starting to freeze. Sebastian was about twenty feet ahead of her. She saw his toque-covered head bobbing in the crowd. He had put on sunglasses.

Suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. Elizabeth stopped, standing on tiptoe and craning her neck. She walked to the end of the block, searching for him. Nothing. He was gone. She walked slowly back toward the hotel, glancing idly in the shops as she did. A bakery. A cafe. An upmarket sex shop. A bookstore. Small, independently owned, the kind you only ever saw in small towns or cities like New York, where there was a niche for everything. I wonder if they have my book, she thought.