For the last hour, he'd wavered between seething with rage and chuckling in amusement. He had never been stood up in his life. The situation was almost ridiculous. This was what he was reduced to, he thought. Stalking. Hiding in the shadows. He checked his watch. 10:00 p.m. He hadn't heard from her all day. Maybe something had come up, he reasoned. Maybe there was a problem with her sister. Slowly the anger was subsiding, and genuine worry was taking hold. He wondered where she was and what she was doing. He wasn't quite ready to admit to himself that she was avoiding him. Then Christophe saw her. Exiting a cab at the entrance of the hotel. She wore a simple outfit, not exactly dressed for dinner. Without thinking, he was out of the car in a flash, jogging across the street and following her into the building. He saw her waiting for the elevator as he made his way across the mirror-paneled lobby. She stepped inside the elevator and pressed a button. “Hold the elevator,”
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