Free Sinful Reunion by Crystal Cierlak Page B

her to analyze any deeper meaning or convictions behind his words.
    "Sure," she merely replied with a kind smile.
     
     
     
    Natalie woke again to sunlight streaming through diaphanous curtains draped like wisps across the length of the bedroom windows. She picked up her head and read 7:56AM on the alarm clock sitting by the bedside. It was an all too familiar memory, waking up with only a handful of minutes to spare before it was time for goodbye.
    She looked down to find James sleeping soundly at her side, his face completely relaxed and content as he softly snored. Natalie lay back down and just watched him, thinking about the kind of life he must live the other days of the year. There was something incredibly sad about a grown man - a successful, but sad grown man - living from a suitcase and going from city to city with no real home to speak of. A hotel room was not a home, no matter how finely or warmly appointed. She assumed the home he did once have, the one he spoke of in New York, was forfeited to the soon to be ex-Mrs. Fitzgerald and her daughter. But then again, who would want to stay in a home where the person you're meant to trust most in the world has betrayed you so deeply?
    If he were to pick just one place as his home, one place that was his and his alone to come to at the end of the day, where would it be? She should have asked him, but a part of her feared his answer would be Los Angeles. If he were in LA that would mean the possibility for more , and she wasn't sure what 'more' was. Aside from sex they barely knew each other, and quite frankly she didn't think she had much in common with a billionaire hotelier whose most frequent mode of transportation was likely an airplane. And as great as the sex was it was nothing to build a relationship on, no matter how tempting the proposition seemed.
    Still... everything she knew of James told her that he was inherently a decent man, one worthy of finer treatment than he had received. He deserved better than a nomadic lifestyle of going from one hotel to another.
    "James." She shook his arm gently as she called his name. "James, wake up."
    "What is it?" he asked before his eyes could even open. When they did they were heavy with sleep. "What's wrong?"
    "You need to buy a house." Okay, just ignore how utterly crazy you sound right now ,she thought to herself. "You're too old to do the rich person version of couch surfing."
    "Stop calling me old," he yawned. He sat up and leaned back against the pillowed headboard. "Okay what are you saying?"
    Natalie scooped up her legs and sat Indian-style at his side. "You need to pick a place to live and buy a house there. Every person deserves a home to go to at the end of the day and a hotel room is so impersonal. No offense ."
    "Okay?" He looked a bit bewildered but seemed to be listening as much as he could. "Where is this coming from, Natalie?"
    "No place, really." From my crazy brain, actually. "I just woke up thinking about it."
    "You woke up thinking about me living in a house?"
    "Yes. And as your friend I felt it was my duty to inform you."
    "Okay, friend ." He tugged on her arm until she crashed into him, his arm wrapping around her and holding her tight. "On Monday I'll buy a house. Anything else?"
    Just like that? 'On Monday I'll buy a house'? God, rich people... "Yes. Thank you."
    "For what?" he croaked tiredly at her ear.
    "For you."
    At that James picked up his head and turned to look for something - presumably the clock, judging by the look on his face - sighing as his head came down next to hers again. "This isn't you saying goodbye to me, is it?"
    Natalie turned in his arms until she was facing him and chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "Is there another way?"
    "Yes, there is. Don't ."
    "I have to leave and go home, James," she sighed. We've been through this already.
    "But you don't have to say goodbye, Natalie." He opened his eyes again and stared at her with that same blue-green intensity she'd seen so