Room Service Read online

  “This is likely the only time you will ever hear me admit to being envious of Reagan, but I am. Envious.” She paused. “And curious.” She slid her hand from Olivia’s lower back to squeeze her hip quickly before she stepped forward and held the elevator doors for Olivia.

  Olivia let out a shaky breath as she walked past Savannah. She stepped into the elevator and put as much space between them as possible. She needed the space to think clearly again.

  When Olivia finally got back to her room and settled onto her bed, she was sexually frustrated. Yet again. She noticed that her cell phone was illuminated next to her. She unlocked the screen and smiled at the awaiting text: I had fun tonight, thx. Dinner again soon? Just the two of us?

  Olivia traced her fingers over the butterflies she felt in her stomach. She replied, me too. Yeah, let’s do that

  She typed another reply a second later. soon.

  Savannah’s response was immediate:. ok, deal. Goodnight Liv.

  Olivia typed back a quick reply and let out a happy sigh as she lowered herself onto the bed again. Today had been a pretty good day.

  * * *

  Olivia was exhausted. The past few days had been long and very busy. The skeleton of the design space was constructed, but they seemed to continually run into obstacle after obstacle. At first, the fabrics arrived in the wrong color, a shipping error. Then it was the water feature, a plumbing issue that required an unexpected redesign of the space to accommodate new piping. As if that wasn’t enough hassle, Randal and Daniel came down with food poisoning that left them both out of commission for a few days. Thankfully, Reagan stepped in and teamed up with a member of the Phoenix crew, but they were shorthanded when they needed help. Savannah had been working overtime, there first in the morning and last to leave every night. Whenever Olivia saw her she was on the phone, typing furiously, or on the tablet with fingers flying over the touch screen, pulling up graphics and blueprints. Olivia hadn’t seen her eat or drink anything besides her morning coffee since she landed in Phoenix four days ago. In fact, she hadn’t spent a moment of alone time with her since Reagan interrupted their dinner plans.

  They texted during the off hours away from the design space, but they were both swamped with work. It seemed like even in their periods of rest, they were doing something. Corrine had requested follow-up calls every few days to make sure they were on task. All other projects from Greater Image Design were backburnered, but not erased completely. Corrine had a small team still taking new clients and doing smaller projects, and she needed Olivia’s input here or her creative design idea there. It wasn’t that it was too much work, just a lot, crammed into a small amount of time. She’d gotten better at managing the various projects as the days progressed. She dealt with the Phoenix space in the mornings, took lunch calls from Corrine and fielded emails midday, before wrapping up with the Phoenix space at night. She felt as though she had gleaned some of her multitasking skills from watching Savannah. That woman was like a machine.

  This morning, Olivia got to the design space early and caught the tail end of Savannah on speakerphone with someone named Annabelle, whom she assumed was her assistant. Savannah was dictating a memo for corporate while writing an email on her tablet. Annabelle commented here or there, agreeing with a Yes, Ms. Quinn or No ma’am, not yet. Olivia thought it was cute the way Savannah nodded in response to Annabelle’s questions. She would pause when she realized that her assistant couldn’t see her answer. It was sort of adorable how focused she was, but at the same time a little hot how much power she had. Savannah was a force to be reckoned with, but surprisingly patient, too.

  Savannah corrected Annabelle half a dozen times about whatever they were working on. She would ask Annabelle to forward the file to her tablet, which she then tweaked on her end before sending it back to her assistant. But she was kind, thanking Annabelle for coming to work early, then giving her the rest of the day off. Her only request was that she be near her phone in case something came up, but she reiterated that she wasn’t needed in the office. Olivia felt herself melt a little at the appreciative smile on Savannah’s face when she ended the call. She seemed to pause in that moment, the fury and fast pace she was always exhibiting muted as she took a slow breath and sighed.

  Olivia watched Savannah stretch in her seat, close her tablet, and put down her phone before she grabbed her coffee and walked toward the window overlooking the pond. Olivia felt like she was intruding upon a silent moment of tranquility, but at the same time, she appreciated seeing the quieter side exhibited by Savannah in this moment. When she and Savannah made eye contact, when they were alone, the world stopped. The quietness in those moments was what Olivia missed when the design space was crowded and bustling. It was the silent eye contact across the room and the secret smile that Olivia hoped for; her heart fluttered when they happened, those secret, stolen glances. The quiet moments. She wanted a chance to experience those moments with Savannah more, lots more.

  She hadn’t been able to sleep, and this morning, even though her body was tired, her mind wouldn’t stop. She had gone down to the gym to hit the treadmill and burn off a little energy. In high school, she’d run cross-country. She ran for fitness and leisure in college, but never competed again. She had friends who ran marathons and did triathlons, but it wasn’t for her. She liked the freedom running gave her. She liked the opportunity to lose herself in her thoughts. One of her favorite things about home was Central Park and running in the early mornings before work, or taking a midday jog through the park on the weekends when she could weave through picnicking couples or kids playing soccer with their parents. Today’s run had been good for her. She’d rounded out almost four miles before she noticed that her iPod wasn’t even on. Her thoughts had been consumed by a paramour, who at this moment was looking out at the pond, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

  Olivia had made the decision this morning that she was going to ask Savannah to dinner. She hoped that tonight would be the night they could spend some quality time together. She decided that she would finally talk about that phone call and about their attraction. She wanted to feel Savannah against her again. She wanted to feel her lips on her neck and smell the way her perfume mixed so perfectly with her shampoo. Olivia wanted Savannah and she was tired of dancing around her desire. She needed to talk about it, and she needed to make sure it wasn’t one-sided, because if it was, well, then she needed to know that, too.

  “Good morning, Olivia,” Savannah called from the window as she glanced over her shoulder with a smile before looking back out at the pond.

  Olivia was surprised. She hadn’t moved from her spot, hadn’t made any noise. She cleared her throat and walked forward. “Good morning.”

  Savannah turned and nodded toward the water. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The pond, it’s so quiet and calm looking.”

  “It is. This is a good location for the design space. The view is gorgeous.” Olivia was half looking at the pond, half looking at Savannah. The statement was true of both embodiments of perfection.

  Savannah kept her gaze out ahead of her. “How long were you here before I noticed you?”

  “Not long. You seemed so peaceful—I didn’t want to disturb you.” Olivia was honest. She sipped her coffee and looked out the window with Savannah.

  “You were watching me,” Savannah stated quietly.

  “I guess I was.” Olivia didn’t see any point in denying it.

  “What were you thinking?” Savannah watched a small flock of birds circle the pond.

  Olivia paused. She had been thinking about Savannah and how much she wanted to spend time with her outside of work and what that might lead to, which was hopefully less clothes and lots of kissing. She remembered her decision. She felt emboldened in the moment. “I was thinking about you. And dinner. And, yeah…”

  Savannah turned toward Olivia. “Is that so?”

  Olivia nodded. She could feel the skin on her neck heating up.

  Savannah let out a s
oft sigh. “Well, I was thinking about you.”

  Olivia frowned. “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

  Savannah pursed her lips and examined Olivia. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just a thing.”

  What the hell did that mean? She waited for Savannah to elaborate.

  Savannah licked her lips. “Lately, it seems like I spend a lot of time thinking about you. It’s distracting.”

  Olivia wasn’t sure if she should be offended or flattered. From the slightly pained expression Savannah was trying to suppress, she felt like it was the beginning of a brush-off.

  Savannah shook her head. “This is harder than I expected.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s difficult. I think about you a lot.”

  The little bit of patience Olivia had left in that moment fizzled out. “Okay. Well, this has been, um, enlightening. I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing.” She turned and started walking back toward the sound of the morning crew that was arriving when a warm hand closed on her bicep.

  “Wait,” Savannah murmured and tightened her grip on Olivia’s arm.

  “Wha—?” Any protests Olivia was about to voice were quickly forgotten when Savannah spun her on the spot and pressed their lips together. Olivia closed her eyes as Savannah moved soft lips against hers. Savannah held her close with a loose hand still at her bicep. When the distant sound of construction supplies and men talking broke them apart, Olivia gasped and blinked in surprise.

  Savannah glanced toward the sounds of the crew members trickling in before she looked back at Olivia. “What I was trying to tell you, obviously poorly executed, is that I think about you a lot.”

  She was still so close as she continued, “I know we talked about this not happening and about setting boundaries and then we bulldozed those boundaries and then we danced around the wreckage but I can’t stop thinking about you and that night on the phone. And it’s distracting. Because I just always want to kiss you and I’m not sorry about that.”

  Olivia couldn’t suppress the flutter that Savannah’s words brought. She looked quickly left and right to make sure they were still alone before she rocked forward and pressed a quick kiss to Savannah’s lips.

  Savannah smiled into the kiss and moved her hand up to cup Olivia’s cheek before they broke apart again. “You are the first thing I think about every morning and the last thing I think about every night.”

  Olivia sighed and sipped her coffee just to keep her lips to herself before she replied. “We ought to work on your delivery of heart melting phrases, because that almost got ugly.”

  Savannah looked smug as she countered, “Heart melting, huh?”

  “Shut up.” Olivia glanced toward the foreman who set his lunch pail down a couple dozen feet away.

  They watched each other for a moment in silence, before Savannah added, “I’m not great at this”—she motioned between them—“but I want to try.”

  Olivia saw the almost embarrassed bashfulness settle on Savannah’s face. Savannah Quinn was a champion of seduction, all hot phone sex voice and teasing touches. Who knew she was shy about regular relationship interactions. “That surprises me a little.”

  An unreadable expression passed over Savannah’s face and she replied, “I’m sure I’m full of surprises.”

  “Well, then, I look forward to experiencing them. All of them.”

  A look of relief spread across Savannah’s face as she stepped back.

  Olivia became aware of the noise the rest of the crew brought with their arrival. They would have to continue this conversation later.

  Savannah glanced once more at the pond before she looked back at Olivia. “Have lunch with me today.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Good. Me, too. Let’s talk a bit then, okay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “You look nice today, by the way,” Savannah added before she turned toward the approaching foreman and slipped right back into her work mode.

  Olivia let out a content sigh. Savannah had a way of giving her all kinds of butterflies, even if she didn’t mean to.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The morning was hectic. A power outage put a hold on the morning construction of the panel wall. The electrical work couldn’t be done, the tools wouldn’t start, and the computerized panel was useless. Daniel and the construction foreman dismissed the crew shortly after lunch after they contacted the local electrical company and learned power wouldn’t be restored until after normal business hours. And without electricity in the design space, Olivia’s team was pretty limited. The overcast, gray day made it hard to work even by natural light, so everyone was eventually dismissed by one that afternoon.

  Olivia was busy trying to make sense of some emails Corrine had sent her, squinting in the limited light coming in through the windows to survey the structural specs from Randal and Reagan to make the change resulting from the plumbing modifications for the water feature. It wasn’t a big change, a few feet here or there, but it would determine the size of the matted canvas on the north wall and its proximity to the overhead lighting. This site had the option of light therapy for the person using the space, something not implemented in the Denver project. So special heated and infrared lights had to be placed beyond a certain distance from the art to not obscure the rays and color hues. They also had to figure out a way to keep this room partially shaded, which had been the plan for today until the power went out. Now they had to wait to see the room in all of its natural light stages on a bright day before installing the electronic panels to dim the space and calibrate the light therapy toggle settings. It wasn’t necessarily a hard task, but it was something that required patience, focus, and electricity. All three were significantly lacking for Olivia today.

  Thankfully, earlier in the week Farrah had made the fantastic suggestion to take digital images of the sun coming through the mostly glass walls at different points in the day and during different weather patterns. Laid out in front of Olivia on the drafting table were ten photographs, each labeled with time of day and each identifying the direction the sun was coming through the glass. She used these with the blueprint CAD program to help configure the art and furniture in the design space. The dividing walls were almost complete, but nothing could be finalized until the plumbing design was verified.

  She cracked her neck and let out a heavy sigh as she repositioned the art on the north wall for the fifth time with an error resulting, again. She would have to have Reagan and Randal recalculate the dimensions. Something was wrong.

  “Hey.” A soft voice came from behind her and it was accompanied by an equally soft hand placed on her shoulder.

  Olivia lightly touched the hand on her shoulder as she turned around. “Hey.”

  Savannah looked around the design space. Everyone had gone home for the day. Reagan had just left with Devon to have a late lunch, which Olivia assumed to mean cocktails at the bar down the street. It was getting stiflingly hot in the enclosed space since the air-conditioning wasn’t working.

  “It’s hot. Why don’t you pack that up and we head out to lunch?”

  Olivia had gotten so wrapped up in the day she had forgotten about their plans. She shuffled the photos and papers into a folder and closed her laptop. She placed her work supplies into the soft, worn leather bag she’d used since she graduated from college. The leather was covered in scratches and dings from being tossed around. She’d had the straps repaired twice already; the buckles were tarnished, and the front zipper hadn’t worked properly in years. She had been meaning to upgrade the bag and get something with more padding for her laptop. Something that was a little sturdier for travel to and from client sites. But she loved this bag. It reminded her of all the hard work she’d put in over the years. She remembered the pen that exploded in the inside pocket, the one that spread blue ink all over her first major proposal. She had been on the road to her client appointment and had to hop out of the cab at a copy center t
o try to fix it. She’d slathered the blue ink with Wite-Out and made fresh copies of the entire portfolio. She rebound it and hailed a new cab, and by some miracle she’d made it to the presentation on time.

  No amount of scrubbing had taken the now slightly faded blue tinge out of the caramel-colored leather. The shape of the stain sort of looked like the state of New York, so she just joked about it being part of the bag’s marketing strategy to people who inquired about it.

  As Olivia organized the drafting table she noticed Savannah running her hands along the leather of her bag. Her fingers traced the fading color of the sturdy stitching along the top.

  “This bag looks like it has a lot of history,” Savannah said. “It’s so soft and malleable but has a stoically defiant quality to it at the same time.”

  “It was a gift from my mentor, Albie Davis,” Olivia supplied. “He gave it to me when I finished my internship, before I started working full-time for the company. It’s falling apart and is impervious to any and all attempts at cleaning it. I’ll need a new one eventually.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Savannah replied as her fingers danced along the marred surface of the satchel. She paused over coarse scratches and smoothed along oiled stains. “He has excellent taste.”

  “Had. He had excellent taste,” Olivia said. “He died last year.” She sighed and turned so she was leaning against the drafting table.

  “I’m sorry.” Savannah looked up at her apologetically. Her free hand reached out to brush against Olivia’s. “Were you two close?”

  Olivia entwined their fingers instinctually and watched Savannah’s hand appraising the bag’s surface. “He was the first person to really believe that I had a talent for this work. He encouraged me to pursue a slightly different path in college and spent long hours teaching me everything he knew. He recommended me for the job at Greater Image Design, and when he retired they promoted me to his position. He taught me the art of conflict resolution in the design space. He was always so levelheaded and soft-spoken, even with the neediest of designers or the most demanding clients. He helped me focus and breathe. He taught me to really feel the space, embrace its uniqueness, and accent those qualities in my design.”