Abigail knew the evening had to come to an end. It was after three in the morning. They’d been talking for hours, and she was nearly asleep on her feet as they approached the front entrance of the Caspian Hotel.

Except for the doorman, the place was deserted. He tipped his hat, gave them a welcoming smile and opened the glass-fronted, brass-trimmed door so they could enter.

Lucky slowed his steps and motioned with an outstretched arm for Abigail to go in first. Her heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing through the empty lobby. A front-desk clerk glanced up from her computer screen. Seeing they had no luggage, so obviously weren’t checking in, she nodded a greeting and went back to typing on the keyboard.

They crossed the vast lobby toward the bank of elevators, while Abigail struggled for something clever or memorable to say. But everything she came up with sounded either trite or ridiculous.

Lucky pressed the call button, and an elevator door immediately slid open. She wanted to tell him she’d had a great time. No, not a great time, an amazing time. A time that she wished she could repeat again someday. But she knew that was impossible. He was leaving town. And she was going back to her real life. And she didn’t even know his name.

He pressed eight, then lifted his brows in her direction.

“Same,” she confirmed, her voice raspy over her dry throat.

Their gazes locked, and the air in the elevator seemed to thicken with anticipation.

The door slid shut.

“Imagine that,” Lucky observed.

Abigail’s skin tingled. She felt heat rush up from her toes to her scalp. She’d never, ever, not even once, had a one-night stand. But she was tempted tonight.

The elevator pinged to a stop.

The door slid open.

She exited first, turning left down the hallway, wondering what she could say, if she could say it, if she could possibly, actually bring herself to do it.