A Place In your Heart

His lips locked with hers, tight. Jessica felt the warmth of his body as his arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer. His chest was firm beneath her hands. She could hear him breathing, slow and quiet. She smiled against his lips. "Jessica…", he called with a low deep voice. The way he said her name did something to her chest. She looked up. Manuel's eyes were fixed on hers, and there was something in them she hadn't seen before. Something that made her think she'd finally gotten past whatever wall he usually kept up. She was wet that instant . He brushed a strand of hair off her face. "What did you do to me?," he whispered. She laughed, soft and a little smug. "You stole my heart first, I wouldn't let it just slide." "Maybe I did." His pink lips found hers again, this time with more pressure. Then the phone rang. Jessica's eyes snapped open. For a second she didn't know where she was....just white light and noise and the ringing. "Good morning, ma'am?" She stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed her. It actually did betray her Right. The reception desk. The computer screen with the cursor blinking in an empty field. The stack of registration forms she still had to sort. The air conditioner rattling faintly above her head like it always did around nine. And Manuel — the real one — standing across the lobby, on his phone, in no hurry at all. Jessica let out a breath. sigh She came back from her imaginations. The daydream version of Manuel had actual chemistry. The real one had handed her his ID card ten minutes ago and said thank you in his usual deep voice....the voice was stuck in her head. "Jessica." She sat up straight so fast her chair squeaked. Linda was leaning against the side of the desk, arms crossed, one eyebrow already doing most of the talking. "You've been staring at that man for like five minutes." "I have not." "You have." "Keep your voice down," Jessica hissed, glancing past her toward the lobby. Linda didn't bother lowering hers. "I'm just saying." Jessica turned back to the monitor and started clicking on nothing in particular. ***** She was twenty-three, worked mornings at one of the busier hotels downtown, and liked to think of herself as reasonably level-headed. That version of her had apparently clocked out the second the glass doors slid open at 8:40 and Manuel Carter walked in, confidently like always. Black shirt. Dark trousers. A watch that probably cost more than her rent. Nothing about him looked like an accident, right down to the way he walked — unhurried, like the day had already agreed to wait for him. His aura was unmatched . And annoyingly handsome. That part wasn't up for debate. "Stop smiling," Linda said. "I'm not smiling." "You are." Before Jessica could argue, Manuel was already walking over, phone tucked into his pocket now. Her stomach did something stupid and small. "Good morning," he said. Even his voice sounded better up close. Jessica reminded herself, firmly, that she was at work. "Good morning, sir. How can I help you?" She said like she had not just kissed him in her imagination. "I'd like to extend my stay." "Sure, no problem." She pulled up his file. "Room number?" "417." She typed it in. "Manuel Carter?" "Yup, That's me." "You're good for another three nights, Mr. Carter." "Good." He leaned against the counter, one elbow resting on it like he'd done this a hundred times. "Anything else I need to do?" "Just need you to confirm the payment method on file." "Whatever you need, you're the expert here." Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for half a second too long. That smile again. Easy, a little crooked, like he wasn't even trying. She hated that it worked on her. "Right," she said, mostly to the screen. "One second." He watched her type for a moment, then tilted his head. "Are you always this serious at work?" "I'm working," she said, not looking up. "I can tell." There was something amused in his voice, like he was enjoying this more than the situation called for. Jessica glanced at him again — just to check, she told herself — and caught him already looking at her. He slid his card across the counter. "Take your time." "Thanks," she muttered, and reached for it, very aware that her hand wasn't as steady as it should've been for something this simple. Linda, three feet away, was doing a truly terrible job of pretending to organize brochures. Jessica sighed inwardly. It was barely nine in the morning, and she already had a feeling that it would be a long day.