Читать книгу Her Forbidden Cowboy - Charlene Sands - Страница 9
ОглавлениеJessica gazed at the digital clock on the nightstand. Eight-thirty! She flashed back to last night and drinking those two giant margaritas, then slowly looked around. She was in an unfamiliar bed.
She’d finally let go and given herself permission to have a good time, and where had that gotten her? She’d made a fool of herself. Zane had hobbled her inside the house and slept heaven only knew where. Was there another bedroom on this floor? Maybe a servant’s quarters? She’d seen an office, a screening room and a game room. No beds, just couches. “Oh, man,” she mumbled.
She scanned the stark but stylish bedroom where she’d slept. A flat-screen TV, a dresser and a low fabric sofa were the only other furniture in the room. If it wasn’t for a shelf that housed Zane’s five Grammys, as well as a couple of CMA and ACM awards, she wouldn’t have guessed it was his master suite. There was nothing personal, warm and cozy about the space.
Hitching her body forward, she waited for signs of pain, but there was nothing. Thank goodness—no hangover. She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand, tossed off the covers and rose. Seeing she was still dressed in her shorts and tank top, she emitted a low groan from her throat as she slipped her feet into her flip-flops. How reckless of her. She’d abused Zane’s hospitality already.
She entered the bathroom, another ode to magnificence, and glanced at herself in the mirror. Smudged mascara and rumpled hair reflected back at her. She washed her face and finger-combed her long wayward tresses. She’d take care of the rest once she reached her own room.
Exiting Zane’s room, she made her way down a short hallway. Voices coming from the kitchen perked up her ears.
Mrs. Lopez spotted her and waved her inside. “Just in time for breakfast.”
Mariah and Zane sat at the kitchen table, coffee mugs piping hot in front of them. Upon the housekeeper’s announcement, both heads lifted her way. Blood rushed up her neck, and her face flamed.
“Morning,” Zane said, peering into her eyes and not at her wrinkled mess of clothes. “You ready for some breakfast?”
“Good morning, Jessica,” Mariah said. They’d obviously been deep in concentration, poring over a stack of papers.
“Yes, yes. Sit down,” Mrs. Lopez insisted.
“Oh, uh...good morning. I don’t want to intrude. You look busy.”
“Just same old, same old,” Mariah said. “We’re going over plans for Zane’s new restaurant. We could use your input.”
She’d given Zane her input last night. God. She’d kissed him. Remembering that kiss sent a warm rash of heat through her body. She’d missed his cheek and gotten hold of his lips. Was it the alcohol, or had her heart strummed from that kiss? The alcohol. Had to be. He must have known it was a genuine miscalculation on her part. She hadn’t meant to kiss him that way.
“Yes, have a seat, Jess,” he said casually. “You need to eat. And we sure need a fresh perspective.”
Before her shower? Luckily Zane hadn’t mentioned anything about her lack of discretion last night or her state of dress today. She’d overslept, that much was a given. Back home, she rose before six every morning. She loved to go through the morning newspaper, take a walk in the backwoods and then eat a light breakfast before heading to her classroom.
There were a platter of bagels with cream cheese, a scrambled egg jalapeno dish and cereal boxes on the table. The eggs smelled heavenly, and her stomach grumbled. Seeing no other option, she sat down and reached for the eggs as Mrs. Lopez provided her with a bowl and a cup of coffee.
“Bien.” She gave a satisfied nod.
Jessica smiled at her.
As Zane and his assistant finished up their breakfast, she ate, too, complimenting Mrs. Lopez on the food she’d prepared.
Zane told Mariah, “Janie and Jessica worked at their folks’ café in Beckon. They served the best fried chicken in all of Texas.”
“That’s what most folks said,” she agreed. She couldn’t claim modesty. Her parents did make the best fried chicken in the state. “My parents opened Holcomb House when I was young. They worked hard to make a go of it. It wasn’t anything as grand as what you’re probably planning, but in Beckon, the Holcomb House was known for good eats and a friendly atmosphere. When Dad died five years ago, my mom couldn’t make a go of it by herself. I think she lost the will, so she sold the restaurant. I’m no expert, but if I can help in any way, I’ll give it a try.”
“Great,” Mariah said.
“Appreciate it,” Zane added. “This restaurant will be a little different than the one in Reno, in cuisine and atmosphere. The beach is a big draw for tourists, and we want it to be a great experience.”
Zane probably had half a dozen financial advisors, but if he needed her help in any way, she’d oblige. How could she not? She cringed thinking that Zane slept on a sofa last night. A quick glance at his less than crisp clothes, the same clothes he’d worn last night, meant that he probably hadn’t got to shower this morning, either. Because of her.
Once the dishes were cleared, Mariah pushed a few papers over to her. “If you don’t mind, could you tell us what you think of the menu? Are the prices fair? Do the titles of the dishes make sense? We’re working with a few chefs and want to get it just right. These are renderings of what Zane’s on the Beach will look like once all done, exterior and interior.”
For the next hour, Jessica worked with the two of them, giving her opinion, voicing her concerns when they probed and offering praise honestly if not sparingly. Zane’s on the Beach had everything a restaurant could offer. Outside, patio tables facing the beach included a sand bar for summer nights of drinking under the moonlight. Inside, window tables were premium, with the next row of tables raised to gain a view of the ocean, as well. It wasn’t posh, but it wasn’t family dining, either. “I like that you’ve made it accessible to a younger crowd. The prices are fair. Have you thought about putting a little stage in the bar? Invite in local entertainment to perform?”
Mariah shot a look at Zane. “We discussed it. I think it’s a great idea. Zane isn’t so sure.”
Zane scrubbed his chin, deep in thought. “I’ve got to get a handle on what I want from this restaurant. My name and reputation are at stake. Do I want ocean views and great food or a hot spot for a younger crowd?”
“Why can’t you have both?” Jessica asked. “Quality is quality. Diners will come for the cuisine and ambiance. After hours, the place can transform into a nightspot for the millennials.”
Amused, Zane’s dark eyes sparked. “Millennials? Are you one?”
“I guess so.”
His head tilted, and his mouth quirked up. “Why do I suddenly feel old?”
“Because you are,” Mariah jabbed. “You’re cranking toward forty.”
“Thirty-five is a far shot from forty, and that’s all I’m saying.”
“You’re wise to stop there,” Mariah said playfully, yet with a note of warning. Jessica could tell that Mariah Jacobellis wasn’t a woman who put up with age jokes. Although Mariah was physically lovely, she seemed to take no prisoners when it came to business or her personal life. Jessica admired that about her. Maybe she could take a lesson from her rule book.
Zane leaned way back in his seat. “You got that right.”
Mariah stacked the papers on the table and rose, hugging them to her chest. “Well, I’m off to make some phone calls. Zane, think about when you want to resume your tour. I’ve got to let the event coordinators know. They’re on my back about it. Oh, and be sure to read through that contract that Bernie sent over the other day.”
Zane’s lips pursed. “I’ll do my best.”
“Jessica, have a nice morning. And if you’re around Zane today, please give him a hand. He may look like a superhero, but he’s really not Superman.”
Could’ve fooled her. Last night, he’d been super heroic.
Mariah pivoted on her heels and strode out the door.
Zane chuckled.
“What?”
“The look on your face.”
“I’m mortified about last night. Where on earth did you sleep, and does Mariah know what happened?”
“First off, don’t be upset. It’s our little secret. Mariah doesn’t know that you’re a margarita lightweight.” He smiled. “That woman’s been babying me for weeks. Doesn’t do a man a bit of good being so dang useless. For the first time in a month of Sundays, I was able to help out and do something useful with this banged-up body.”
“I took your bed.”
“Glad to give it up.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“The office sofa is the most comfortable place in the whole house.”
“Oh, boy. I’m sorry. The first night I’m here, I give you trouble.”
He smiled again, a stunning heart-melter. “If livening up my life some is trouble, then bring it on. Fact is, I’m glad you’re here. You bring a bit of home with you. I miss that.”
She needed to believe him. She’d been afraid coming here would remind him of Janie and all that he’d lost. To have him say he was glad she’d come made a big difference. “Okay.”
He put his palms on her cheeks and leaned forward. Her heart stopped. Was he going to kiss her? His touch sent tingles parading up and down her chest. Oh, wow. It wasn’t alcohol this time. Probably wasn’t the alcohol last night, either. She’d been dumped by a scoundrel, and now a man she had no right responding to made her feel giddy inside. How screwed up was that?
She gazed into his eyes. He was looking somewhere above her eyeglasses. Then he lowered his mouth—she stilled—and he brushed a brotherly kiss across her forehead. Breath eased from her chest, and her foolish heart tumbled. Of course, Zane wasn’t going to kiss her that way.
“And thanks for the input about the restaurant,” he said. “I respect your honesty and what you have to offer.”
She swallowed hard. Tamping down her silly emotions, she offered a quick smile. “Anytime.”
* * *
Beaming sunshine simmered over Jessica’s body, the invading heat soaking into her bones. Salty air, a cushion of sand beneath her and the soothing sounds of waves crashing upon the shore gave her good reason to forget her disastrous relationship with Steven Monahan. He didn’t deserve any more of her time. But the sting of his rejection stayed with her, leaving her hollowed out inside, afraid to trust, questioning her intuition. She feared she’d never fully recover the innocence of her first love. Good thing she didn’t have to make any decisions here on Moonlight Beach. She could just be.
Drenched in sunscreen, she lay on a beach blanket in a modest one-piece bathing suit, a folded towel under her head. Slight breezes just outside Zane’s beachfront home deposited flecks of sand onto her arms and legs. Children’s giggles and adult conversations drifted to her ears. For the first time in days, her nerves were completely calm.
She promised herself to keep out of Zane’s hair, and she had for the most part these past three days. He spent hours inside his office working with Mariah, and occasionally they would ask for her input on the restaurant. She figured it was just a way for him to keep her entertained and make her feel welcome. Each morning, under an overcast sky that would burn off before noon, she walked a three-mile stretch of beach, loosening up her limbs and clearing her head. At night, she’d dine with Zane on the patio facing the ocean, and except for having an occasional glass of white wine or a cold beer, she kept her alcohol consumption to a bare minimum. The Pacific Ocean and fresh air were her balm. She didn’t need to rely on anything else.
She wiggled her tush into the sand, carving out a more comfy spot on her blanket, and closed her eyes. The flapping of wings and piercing squawk of a seagull overhead made her smile.
“Glad to see you’ve taken to Moonlight Beach.”
Blocking rays of sunlight with a hand salute, she opened her eyes. The handsome face of Dylan McKay came into view.
“Hi, Jessica.” He stared at her with his million-dollar smile. “Don’t let me disturb you.”
Gosh, he remembered her name.
Wearing plaid board shorts and a muscle-hugging white T-shirt, and fitting into beach society with the casualness of a megastar, he sort of did disturb her. Yet he did so in such a friendly way, she didn’t mind the intrusion. As she sat up on her elbows, his gaze dipped to her chest. To his credit, his eyes didn’t linger on her breasts, and that was more than she could say about most men.
“Hello, and I am enjoying the beach. When in Rome, as they say.” She chuckled at the cliché. It was Mama’s favorite saying, and she’d used it a zillion times over the years. The most recent was last night when they’d talked on the phone. Did others in her generation get that phrase?
Her eyes fell on a black portfolio tucked under his arm. It looked odd there, as if he should be wearing a three-piece suit while carrying that austere leather case. Instead of moving on, he squatted down beside her, his tanned knees nearly in her face. Obviously, he wanted to chat.
“I see you sometimes in the morning, walking along the beach.”
“You’ve inspired me,” she said. “Of course, I only do three miles. How are your runs going?”
“Killing me, but I’m getting in the ten miles.”
His legs were taut, like those of a natural runner, and the rest of his body, well...it would be hard not to notice his muscles and the way his T-shirt nearly split at the seams around his shoulders and upper arms. “Good for you.”
“So, how’s it going?” he asked. “Other than sunbathing and taking long walks, are you having a good time?”
“Yes. It’s nice here. I’m working on some new lesson plans for my class. I teach first grade back home.”
“Ah...a teacher. Such an honorable profession.”
She waggled her brows. Was he poking fun at her? Or was he being genuine?
“My mother taught school for thirty-five years,” he added, his smile wistful, pride filling his voice. “She was loved by her students, but she wasn’t a pushover. It wasn’t easy pulling my antics on her. She was too savvy. She knew when kids were up to no good.”
“I bet you gave her a run for her money.”
He laughed, the gleam of his lake-blue eyes touching her. “I did.”
“What grade did she teach?”
“All grades, but she preferred fourth and fifth. Then, later on, she became dean of a middle school, and eventually, the principal of the high school.”
She nodded. She didn’t have much else to add to the conversation. Not that Dylan McKay wasn’t easy to talk to. He was. And she loved talking about education to anyone who would listen. It was just that he was fabulous, famous Dylan McKay. And he kept smiling at her.
“Hey, I’m having a party on Saturday night. If you’re still here, I’d love for you to come. Maybe you can get Zane to get out and have a little fun.”
“Oh, thanks.” He’d caught her off guard. Wasn’t that what she needed right now, to be a wallflower at an A-list party? “I’m...uh, I’m not the partying type. Especially now.”
“Now?”
She shrugged. “I’m going through something and need a little R and R.”
“Ah...a breakup?”
She nodded. Her pride aside, she opened up a little to make her point. “Broken engagement as the wedding guests were taking their seats in church.”
“Ah...gotcha. I’ve been there once, a long time ago, when I was too young to know better. It turned out for the best, so believe me, I understand. Listen, I promise you, the party is low-key. Just a few friends and neighbors for a barbecue on the beach. I’d love to see you there.”
“Thanks.”
He smiled, and she smiled back. Then he pointed to her upper thigh, on the right side, closest to him. “Uh-oh. Looks like you missed a spot. You’re starting to burn.” Grabbing the sunscreen tube from the blanket, his long fingers brushed the soft underside of her hand as he set the sunscreen into her palm. “Better lather up and—”
“Stop corrupting my little sis, McKay.”
Jessica whipped her head around. Zane stood on the sundeck railing, staring at Dylan. His voice was a far cry from menacing, but the cool look he shot Dylan made her wonder what was up.
Dylan winked at her. “Maybe she wants to be corrupted.”
“And maybe you want to turn tail and go home. I don’t have to read that script, you know.”
“Whoops,” he said, flashing a charming smile. “He’s got me there. Maybe you can help me convince him to take this role. Wanna try? Since you’re about to turn into a fried tomato out here.”
Under normal circumstances, she was probably the least starstruck person in Beckon, Texas, but how could she not take Dylan up on his offer to go over a movie script? The notion got her juices flowing, and excitement buzzed around her like a busy little bee.
She glanced down at her legs. Oh, wow. Dylan was right. There were more than a few splotchy patches on her body. Time to get out of the sun. “Sure, why not?”
“Great.” He swiveled his head in Zane’s direction. “We’re coming up right now.”
Gallantly, he offered her his hand. She couldn’t very well refuse the gesture. She slipped one hand into his and simultaneously clutched her cover-up with the other as they rose together. He was too close for comfort, his eyes smiling on her, their hands entwined. Gently she pulled away, making herself busy zipping herself into a white cotton cover up and ignoring his rapt attention. He was a charmer, but thankfully his touch hadn’t elicited a jolt of any kind. She glanced at Zane, leaning by the railing, his sharp gaze fixed on her.
Something hot and unruly sizzled in the pit of her belly.
She ignored it and pushed on, climbing the steps with Dylan McKay following behind.
* * *
“Did he ask you out?” Zane probed the minute Dylan McKay exited the house. Looming over her, Zane was a bit foreboding, as if he was her white knight protecting her from the wicked prince of darkness. Geesh.
“Wh-what?”
“The guy couldn’t take his eyes off you down on the beach.”
She shrugged and picked up three empty glasses, reminiscent of her waitress days at Holcomb House.
After coming back into the house she’d left the two men to take a quick shower and slip on a sundress. She’d listened to Dylan’s script proposal to Zane with keen interest in a spacious light oak–paneled office on the main level of the house. The meeting took almost an hour. Then they’d had drinks in the cool shade of the patio. Iced tea for her. The men were content to knock back whiskey and soda.
Dylan was a charming lady’s man to the millionth degree, and she knew enough to steer clear. The idea that he’d be interested in a little ol’ school teacher from Beckon, Texas, was ridiculous. She had no illusions of anything else going on between them, and Zane should know that.
Her mama’s image flashed before her eyes. That was it. She bet her mother put Zane up to watching out for her, making sure her tender heart didn’t get broken again. Well, heck. She’d let him off the hook, but not without giving him some grief. Her chin up, she said, “He invited me to his beach party Saturday night. It was just a friendly invitation.”
Zane’s mouth tightened into a snarl and he snorted. “Doubtful.”
“I told him I probably wouldn’t go.”
“Good.” Zane nodded, satisfied. “You don’t need to get involved with him. He’s—”
“Out of my league?”
His eyes widened. “Hell, no.”
“Well, he is. And I know it all too well. Heck, my life is messy enough right now. There’s no room for romance, though it’s absurd to think of Dylan McKay actually being into me.”
Zane immediately reached out to grab her arm. Surprised, she jerked from his touch, and the glasses she held nearly slipped from her hand. “Don’t put yourself down, Jess.”
A jolt sprang to life, spiraling out of control where the strong fingers of his bandaged hand pressed into her skin. Sharpness left Zane’s dark eyes, and he gave her a bone-melting look. “I was going to say, he would never appreciate you. You’re special, Jess. You always have been.”
Because she was Janie’s sister.
Zane held dear her sister’s memory, closing his heart around it and not allowing anyone else into his life. He was a sought-after hunky bachelor, but he’d been true to Janie’s love even now, years later. Jessica understood she was only here because Zane was too nice a guy to refuse her mama a favor. “Thank you.”
He nodded and released her to go lean against the railing.
Free of his touch, she marched the glasses into the kitchen, handing them to Mrs. Lopez one at a time. She had to do something to quell her pounding heart. What the heck was wrong with her?
“Dios, you do not do the work around here. That’s my job, no?”
“Yes. But I like to help.”
It was the same conversation she’d had with Mrs. Lopez since she’d arrived here. Jessica saw nothing wrong with putting clothes in the washer and turning the thing on, or clearing the dishes, or helping slice potatoes for a meal. Today, especially, she needed to do something with her hands.
“Sí, okay.” A relenting sigh echoed in the kitchen.
She picked up dirty dishes on the counter, loaded them in the dishwasher and put things back in the refrigerator. A few chores later, after scanning the clean kitchen they’d both worked on, she gave Mrs. Lopez a bright smile. The woman was shaking her head, but with a twinkle in her eyes. Progress.
Jessica strode out the kitchen door and was immediately knocked against the doorjamb. Pain shot to her shoulder. The jarring bump brought Mariah’s face into view. “Oh, sorry.”
Mariah was equally shocked from the collision. “I didn’t see you.”
“My fault. I should learn how to slow down.”
She chuckled. “I’m the same way. I’ve got to get where I’m going fast, no matter if it’s just to sip coffee and read the newspaper.” Mariah, always impeccably dressed, rubbed her shoulder through her cognac-colored silk blouse. “Guess we’re alike in that regard. Where were you going in such a hurry?”
“Nowhere. Just outside. I left Zane hanging and I wanted to go back to talk to him.”
“Good luck with that. I just left him, and he’s a bear right now.”
“Oh, really? Why?” It couldn’t be the Dylan McKay thing, could it?
“I don’t know exactly what set him off other than he hates being confined. He feels like a caged animal. Though he doesn’t make an effort to go anywhere, other than for business.”
“I can see how that would make him restless.”
Mariah smiled. “That’s the perfect way to describe it. He’s restless. But I’m afraid that came on well before his fall. I think a change of pace is good for him. I’ve helped him make the decision to open this second restaurant, and now he’s thinking about movie roles. It might be just what he needs.”
Or maybe he was running away from his past, the same way she was. Zane loved music. He loved writing lyrics and composing songs. He was meant to entertain. His sexy, deep baritone voice made his fans swoon. That’s the only Zane she’d known.
“Dylan invited you in to hear his pitch, I understand. What did you think of the movie?”
“Me? Well, I, uh...to be honest, I think the idea of Zane and Dylan being estranged brothers coming home after the death of their father might work. If Zane can act, he’d be great in the role. The only issue I see is the love triangle about the girl back home. I saw Zane’s reaction to Dylan’s description of the romantic scenes he’d have to do. Zane instantly shut down. I’m not sure if Zane’s up to that.”
“That’s exactly what I think, too. Zane’s not going to do something he’s not comfortable with. Believe me, I know. I’ve had plenty of discussions with him about his recent decisions. He bounces things off me. He asks me a question, and I tell him the truth.”
“Which is?”
“I will say this. Zane can act. He’s been doing so for over two years now. His public persona is far different than the real Zane.” Mariah was ready to say more and then clamped shut. Her eyes downcast, she shook her head. “Forgive me. I keep forgetting who you are.”
Jessica drew her brows together. “It’s because of Janie. He’s still hurting.”
Mariah nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Mariah’s eyes fell on her softly, her genuine warmth shining through. “Please forget I said anything. It’s none of my business.”
The idea that after two years, Zane was still making decisions based on the love he had for Janie, nestled deep into her heart. It was beautiful in a way, but also incredibly sad. “You’re Zane’s personal assistant. You spend a lot of time together. I can see that you care about him as a friend, too, so maybe it’s more your business than mine.”
“Zane thinks of you as family. He’s said so a dozen times since you’ve come here.”
“I’m the little sis he never had.” Wasn’t that the term he’d used this afternoon with Dylan McKay?
Stop corrupting my little sis.
Zane’s loyalty to her family was very sweet. She didn’t take it lightly, but she also didn’t want him to think of her as a pity case. From the moment her shocked guests walked out of the church on her wedding day, weeks ago now, something harsh and cold seeped into her soul. Trust would be a long time coming, if ever again. So Zane didn’t have to worry over her. She wasn’t a woman looking for love. She wasn’t on the rebound. He could sleep well at night.
“So, what are you up to today?” she asked Mariah. She was learning the ins and outs of Zane’s superstardom. Mariah sifted through a dozen offers a day for special appearances, television interviews and charity events on Zane’s behalf. She’d learned that Zane was a generous contributor to children and military charities, but lately, he’d declined any personal appearances. Mariah worked with his fan club president on occasion and took care of any personal business, such as setting up medical appointments or shopping trips. It was a different world, one that her sister, Janie, had resigned herself to because she’d been with Zane from the launch of his career. They’d grown into this life together.
“More restaurant business to do today. We’ve got a decorator working on the interior design, but Zane’s not sure about the motif.” Mariah’s cell phone rang, and she excused herself.
Jessica walked over to the French door leading out to the deck. Zane was sprawled out on a lounge chair, shaded from the sun, his booted foot elevated, reading the script Dylan had brought over. Keen on the subject matter, he seemed deep in thought. As her gaze lingered, she watched him close the binder and stare out to sea, his expression incredibly wistful.
She followed the direction of his gaze and honed in on the vast view of the ocean. The sounds of the sea lulled her into a soothing state of mind. It was a place to find infinite peace, if there ever was such a thing. Her nerves no longer throbbed against her skin. These past few days, she’d been much calmer. Were time and distance all she’d needed to get over Steven Monahan? Geesh, Jessica felt at one with nature and started to believe. A chuckle rose from her throat at the notion. She was beginning to sound like a true Californian.
“Crap! Damn things.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Zane’s crutches fall to the ground. The slap echoed against the wood deck. Zane was off the chair, bending to pick them up and trying to keep weight off his bad foot. It looked like a yoga move gone bad. She moved quickly, her legs eating up the length of the deck to get to him.
“Zane, hang on.”
He stumbled and fell over, landing on his bad hand. “Ow!”
By the time she reached him, he was on his butt, cursing like the devil, shaking out his wrist. She kneeled beside him. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.
He tilted his head toward her. “You mean other than my pride?”
She smiled. “Yes, we’ll deal with that later. How’s the hand?”
“I managed to catch the fall on the tips of my fingers, so the wrist should be fine.”
He moved his fingers one by one as if he was playing keys on a piano. So much for keeping his hand immobilized. “Maybe your doctor would be a better judge of that.”
“Now you sound like Mariah.”
“I knew an old goat like you once,” she said, putting his right arm over her shoulder. “Let me help you up.”
“I knew the same goat,” he bounced back. “Smart critter.”
“Pleeeze. Okay, are you ready? On three.” She swung her arm around his waist. “One. Two. Three.”
His weight drew her toward him, the side of her face against his chest, her hair brushing his shirt. He smelled like soap and lime shaving lotion. His heart pounded in her ear as she strained to help lift him.
Zane did most of the work, his brawny strength a blessing. Together, they managed to stand steady, Zane keeping weight off his foot by using her as his right crutch. Once again, just like the other night, she was wrapped tight in his arms. Ridiculous warmth flowed through her body. She couldn’t explain it except she felt safe with him, which was silly because this time she’d done the rescuing. “There,” she said, satisfied she’d gotten him upright. “Now, we’re even.”
His arm over her shoulder, he turned to her with eyes flickering. “Is that so?”
Well, maybe not. She was getting drunk on him, minus the alcohol. “Yes, that’s so.”
“I could’ve gotten up on my own, you know.”
“It wouldn’t have been pretty.”
He laughed. “True.”
“So, I’m glad I was here to help. Show a little gratitude.”
He wasn’t a man who liked taking help. That was part of the problem. His gaze roamed over the deck where he’d spent most of his day, and she sensed his frustration.
“Wanna get out of here?” he asked.
“Sure. Where would you like to go?” Mariah said he didn’t like to go out, so she couldn’t let this opportunity pass by. If he needed some breathing room, away from his gorgeous house and his familiar surroundings, who was she to deny him?
“Anywhere. I don’t care. Are you up to driving my car?”
“I can manage that. I’m going to get your crutches now, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer.
She released him and he stood there, balancing himself for the two seconds it took her to pick up both of his crutches and hand them over. Tucking one under each arm, he pointed a crutch toward the door. “After you.”
