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I put on today’s outfit—a green dress that brings out my eyes. The conservative cut reveals very little skin, for which I’m thankful. I carefully dab concealer over my freckles until they all vanish, then apply some mascara and lip gloss to finish my makeup. I fast-dry my hair and twist it into a sleek updo.There. Now I’m back in my uber-career-woman armor.

“Whatever happened before a shower doesn’t count. A shower is a total reset.” I nod decisively at my reflection in the mirror.

Much more confident and calmer, I walk out. The lights are on. Rhys is sitting up in bed, checking his phone. Probably got a billion messages again. Although most people don’t know his personal number, it always gets so many texts that I wonder if he has to buy a unit with extra storage space.

“All yours,” I say, gesturing at the bathroom with a flourish.

“I ordered room service breakfast for us. Should be here in the next twenty minutes or so.” He starts to get off the bed.

Of course. He doesn’t do buffets. But that doesn’t mean I have to eat with him after…whatever…happened, right?

Even if the whatever was before the shower? Why worry about it when you made a rule?

That’s different, I argue with myself. “You shouldn’t have. I’m eating down at the buffet. I’ve always wanted to see what Japanese hotels serve for breakfast.”

His mouth quirks into a sly, knowing grin. My heart flutters. The way his lips curve is sinful because I can easily picture them descending on my mouth. Or me doing it to him, like he implied.

My lips tingle, and I press them together to expel the sensation.Stop associating Rhys with kissing!

“I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re ready.” I grab my purse and laptop bag and rush out before he can stop me.

Since I can’t function without food in my belly in the morning, I head to the restaurant the receptionist mentioned during the check-in. The entrance has a bronze metal plate on a maroon marble wall etched with MURAKAMI in block caps. The interior is roomy, with a high ceiling and plenty of tables and seats. One wall is made entirely of glass and faces a garden. On the other side is the busy morning city traffic. Although it’s early, buses, cars and taxis already crowd the streets, along with clusters of commuters, some on foot, some on bikes.

I give my name and room number to a hostess in a black suit. She taps her tablet, then leads me to a small table by the garden-side window.

“Where can I get some coffee? Just black with some sweetener should be fine.” I need to be caffeinated to figure out a way to overcome the Predawn Embarrassment and lay out the day’s agenda for Rhys when he meets me in the lobby. It’s awful of me, but I almost wish somebody would have a major emergency that made them cancel their reservation so I could have a room of my own.

“I can have it brought to you.” She smiles, then returns to her station, tapping away on her tablet.

I head over to an enormous spread. It has everything: freshly baked bread, pastries, fresh and dried fruit, three egg stations and two rice stations. I stare as a cooking lady places a piece of grilled salmon inside a fist-sized clump of rice and molds it into a triangle. She then wraps it with a black sheet of seaweed.Looks interesting.

I must be staring like a starved dog, because she places it on a plate and hands it to me with a smile.

“Sumimasen.” I manage to remember the word that Yuka said was the most important for a foreigner in Japan. The lady smiles and says something that sounds like “Don’t touch my mustache.” I grab a bowl of miso soup from the next station and return to my table. A mug of steaming coffee is waiting for me.

I stir in Splenda and sip, then bite into the rice…triangle thing. It’s much more savory and substantial than I expected. Should be good enough for breakfast. I check my phone for any critical messages, but there’s nothing. No urgent emails either, except for a couple from Finn about Ohimesama. Again, why couldn’t he have come here and shared his suite with June? Then I wouldn’t have woken up wrapped around Rhys like this seaweed around my rice. Thinking about it still makes my cheeks heat.

It’s the body heat. The man’s like a furnace. I probably felt a little chilled last night and unconsciously wanted his warmth. I’m definitely going to get another blanket to avoid repeating the mishap. Even though nothing happened, it feels vaguely like cheating. I want to be fair to Jeffrey and give him the kind of loyalty I expect from him in return.

A text from Saito pops up.

–Saito: Hey, Felicia and I are feeling better, so we can probably reposition to Tokyo, but there are no hotels. What’s up?

–Me: Some kind of cultural expo or whatever. If you can’t be here, you can’t be here. No need to look for something that isn’t available.

Talking about the lack of vacancy triggers the memory of Hotel Anjel Rube, and I suppress a small surge of embarrassment. Saito can probably stay at a love hotel with Felicia. But I keep that to myself, since, being a second-generation Japanese immigrant, he probably knows about stuff like that better than me.

–Saito: We can probably crash with my parents in Yokohama.

–Me: Isn’t that far?

–Saito: Not that bad. Maybe an hour or so, depending?

I do some quick calculation. Rhys expects things to take about a week—since he tends to be a bit conservative in his estimates, the timing’s on the generous side. It’s already Wednesday, but with the time difference between the U.S., London and Japan, he’ll likely work through the weekend here, then wrap up any remaining items before taking off.

–Me: Should be fine. Rhys’ll likely want to take off on Monday Japan time.

–Saito: Got it.