The Invitation

As we taxied onto the runway behind a backup of planes preparing to take off, Hudson offered me a newspaper. I declined in favor of popping in my earbuds and trying to relax. Though the minute I shut my eyes, I knew that wouldn’t be happening. Now I couldn’t stop thinking of what Hudson had said. He saw me as beautiful and strong, two things I hadn’t felt in a long time. And you know what? He was right—at least on the strength part, anyway. Lately I’d felt almost high from all I’d accomplished. I’d been nervous about taking on an investor, but that had turned out to be the best decision I’d made so far. And I’d been terrified about going on-air at the Home Shopping Channel, and that had been a resounding success. So why should I be afraid of getting a few pictures taken and putting my face on my company’s marketing? I shouldn’t. That was the answer to that question.

I took a few deep breaths and felt my shoulders relax. All I needed was some Vivaldi, and I might actually be one of those people who could take a nap on a flight. Who knew?

As the music started, I looked over at the man seated next to me. Hudson noticed my eyes on him and flashed an adorable face, one that was half crooked smile and half confused—as if he were trying to figure out what I was thinking, but glad whatever it was had me looking at him. I removed the earbud on his side and leaned over to him.

“Thank you,” I said.

“For what?”

“For seeing me the way you do. I know I can be a handful at times.”

Hudson looked into my eyes. “You are a handful. But don’t worry.” He winked. “I’ve got two big hands.”

***

“Welcome to Hotel Bel-Air. Are you checking in today?”

“Yes, under Rothschild,” Hudson said. “There should be two reservations.”

The woman behind the reception desk clicked her long nails against the keyboard while I gawked around the hotel’s lobby. I’d expected us to be staying in downtown LA in some trendy hotel, but this place was more like a hidden sanctuary in the woods. Hotel Bel-Air had an old-school Hollywood feel to it. It had all the standard luxury touches—marble columns and counters, limestone floors, natural wood ceilings—but something made it feel serene and private rather than flashy.

Hudson noticed me looking around. “The grounds are beautiful. You almost forget you’re in LA. I’ve stayed here once before, but the photographer picked it this time. We’re going to do the shoot here.”

“Oh, wow. That’s nice and easy. I can’t wait to look around.”

The hotel clerk raised two cardboard squares. She held up one. “This is for the Stone Canyon suite.” She raised the other hand. “And this is for the deluxe room.”

Hudson took the room key and handed me the suite key.

“What? No. I don’t need a suite. You take it.”

“You’re going to have a hair and makeup team tomorrow morning. You need the space. Plus, the photographer plans to shoot some of the session on the patio of your room. He requested that specific suite.”

“Oh…” I still felt funny about taking it, but I guess that made sense. “Okay.”

Hudson walked me to my room. He wheeled my bag in while I went right to the two open doors in the living room. They led straight out to a private patio.

“Holy—there’s a fireplace and a big Jacuzzi out here.”

Hudson stepped outside behind me. He pointed to a seating area with a backdrop of lush plantings and greenery. “I think this is where he wants to set up tomorrow. He emailed over some mock-ups late last night with some furniture he rented for the day.”

I pointed to the Jacuzzi. “I knew I should have brought a bathing suit.”

“It’s a private patio.” He shrugged. “Don’t think you need one.”

“Ooohh. That’s even better.”

Another set of double doors led into a bedroom, so I went to check that out, too, before wandering into the most luxurious bathroom I’d ever seen. Hudson seemed amused at my enthusiasm.

“I never want to leave this room,” I joked.

He glanced over to the bed and back to me. “That makes two of us.”

I laughed, yet my eyes lingered on the bed. When my gaze lifted, I found Hudson watching me.

He cleared his throat. “I should get going. I have some work to catch up on. The photographer thought it would be a good idea to have dinner tonight, but I wasn’t sure if you’d feel up to it.”

“I’m fine. Dinner would be nice.”

Hudson gave a curt nod. “I’ll tell him five, since it will be eight New York time to us.”

“Good idea.”

We walked to the door. “Are you planning on going anywhere?” he asked. “Do you want the keys to the rental car?”