HEATHER ANDERSON, UNDETERRED BY HER FOUR-INCH heels, wheeled her luggage across the main lobby of the Indianapolis Hilton. Her insides were a jangle of nervous anticipation. She couldn’t believe she was here, couldn’t believe she was about to see Ace Vincent again. He was all she could think about for the past month, ever since they’d met at The Razz, a hole-in-the-wall club in St. Louis’s Loop. She just knew it was fate, his showing up to play for fun with friends in a local band, her happening by the same night. She might’ve been the only one who knew who he was— drummer and songwriter for No Return, a Dove Award-winning Christian rock band. The intimate venue allowed her access to him after the set, and they talked most of the night. Since then, they’d texted regularly and talked by phone a couple of times, the latest three days ago when Ace invited her here.
The lobby was bustling with people, most checking in for the conference, Heather supposed. She straightened her back and finger-fluffed her long blond mane as she glided by a group of guys huddled near the coffee bar, all of them checking her out. Probably wannabe songwriters. Heather understood. She was a wannabe recording artist.
She glanced around for the elevators, then headed toward them, double-checking her text messages for the room number. 2125. She hadn’t been sure about this arrangement at first. Ace had said he’d get her a room when he invited her, then he texted later to say the hotel was sold out, and she could stay on the sleep sofa in his suite. She wondered if he’d planned it that way all along—not that she cared if he had.
A pair of elevator doors on the far left were open already, so she stepped in, pushed 21, and watched them close. The lift made the butterflies scramble all the more.
She didn’t know which excited her more, time with Ace or the promise he’d made to introduce her to other recording artists who’d be at the conference. That night at the club, she’d told him her dream and asked if he had any advice.
He’d answered with a slow grin. “A singer, huh? Let me hear you.” He nodded toward the stage. “Up there.”
Heather smiled back at him. She could play this game. “Sure. If you and the band play for me.”
His grin got bigger. “Let’s go.”
He called the band members back together, and they all decided on a song. Minutes later she was singing before the crowd—albeit a small one—with Ace on drums.
“That was awesome,” she told him afterward, hugging his neck to thank him. “Well? What did you think?”
Ace looked her up and down, nodding. “You’ve got the goods, that’s for sure. Didn’t think you’d be able to belt it out like that. And Lord knows you look fine.”
They stood just inches apart, and Heather could feel the heat between them.
She leaned a little closer. “So, do you ever hear of any artists needing a background vocalist?”
He shrugged. “From time to time.”
“I know you meet tons of people, and you’ll probably forget me by tomorrow, but can I give you my number in case you hear of anything?”
He closed the small gap between them, their shirts grazing. “There’s no way I’d forget you by tomorrow.”
He was right. The next day he texted just to say he was thinking about her, and from there they’d been in regular contact. She was thrilled when he invited her to the conference, offering to help connect her with others. She knew he had ulterior motives, but then, so did she. If she and Ace became romantically linked in the process, all the better. She’d dreamed of that too—being the special woman on the arm of an entertainment artist.
The elevator stopped, and Heather took a deep breath and let it out. A wall mirror hung nearby, and she checked herself, dabbing on powder and lip gloss. She pressed her lips together and deemed herself ready. Moving down the long hallway, she could feel her life switching into another gear, a higher gear, leaving behind the ordinary and even the disappointments. She was about to live her dreams.
Ace answered her knock in gray cotton shorts, a plain white undershirt, and bare feet. Wrestler stocky, he had sandy-colored hair that stood on end. “Hey, you.” He took a step back so she could enter.
“Hey,” she said, crossing the threshold.
He looped an arm around her waist and brought her near. She wasn’t expecting their first kiss right there in the doorway, but she didn’t mind it either.
He led her by hand further into the suite. “How was your drive?”
“Passed pretty quickly.” Her smile felt shy. “Must’ve been the music I was listening to.” She’d texted him at a bathroom break that she was rocking out to No Return’s songs as she drove.
“That’ll do it,” he said. “Go on, have a seat.” He left Heather by the sofa and walked to the kitchenette. He lifted a bottle. “I got some champagne to celebrate.”
“What are we celebrating?”
He poured the bubbly into two water glasses and brought them over, his leg brushing hers as he sat. “The here and now. You and me.” He handed her a glass. “I like to celebrate all of life’s little moments. Here’s to us.”
Heather liked the sound of us. She clinked her glass with his and took a sip, then looked at her watch. “Should we be doing this? Don’t we need to be downstairs for the banquet in about an hour?”
Though she wasn’t officially registered, Ace had said he’d get her a badge with conference privileges.
“What if you get tipsy or something?” she asked.
“From champagne? Nah. Besides, we’re not going to the dinner.”
“We’re not?”
“Waste of time. Rubber chicken and lemon cake, then a keynote speaker? Trust me. Room service will be a lot more fun.” He downed the rest of his glass, leaned over for another kiss, then jumped up. He went and grabbed the bottle.
“But what about the networking part? I wanted to meet people like Monica Styles and Rick Richards. We’re at least going down for the concert, right?”
He flopped a leg over one of hers as he sat, then kissed her again. “That depends.”
“On?”
He poured more champagne into his glass. “On whether we’re in the middle of something more interesting up here.”
His nearness gave her goose bumps. “But we can save the something interesting for after the concert. I love Monica Styles.”
“Monica and I will be on a panel together tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure you get some time. Maybe you can sing a cappella for her. I know she’ll love your voice.”
“Ace, that would be awesome. A dream come true.”
He smiled, his face a short breath from hers. “I’m all about making dreams come true.”
Heather took another sip of her champagne, settling herself against him, starting to like his plan. They’d spend quality time together this evening, then she’d network hard tomorrow. How many conference attendees hoped to get a few minutes with Ace, glean a bit of his wisdom? And she had him all to herself . . . for just the first of many nights, if things went as she hoped.