Читать книгу Tongue-tied - Colleen Collins - Страница 10

JOHNNY WATCHED Robin stand there, gaping at him. She looked as cute as she had back in grade school. Straight, flyaway blond hair and those big gray-green eyes that took in everything. Those eyes he’d almost recognized back in the diner before he’d been hit with that blast of passion that had melted his logical, rational thoughts…the kind of thoughts that normally filled his mind as Jonathan Dayton, CEO of OpticPower. Which is who he’d been back at that diner, a CEO—well, a CEO in disguise—intently reviewing legal papers for the upcoming board meeting.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, this young, fiery woman damn near burned his logical brain to smoldering ashes.

He looked into her face, trying to read the look in her eyes. If they were inside, under the bright fluorescent lights, he bet he could read what she was thinking right now. He’d been able to do that years ago, back home, anyway. Back then, he guessed her thoughts by the sparkle in her eye—and most of the time, he’d been right. And he’d been able to sense her emotions, too. Hurt darkened her eyes, clouding them over like a distant storm. Joy lightened them to a sparkling green, like sunlight on the sea. A hundred thoughts, emotions would be racing through her, and she’d think keeping her mouth shut meant no one knew.

He knew.

But back then, it was easier to stay focused on her eyes. Now it was damn hard.

The gangly legs had turned shapely. Like the rest of her. She had one of those curvaceous figures that reminded him of early twentieth-century illustrations by Charles Gibson where women were round and pink and womanly. Back in the diner, he’d liked how she felt, how her body pressed against his. Liked even better how she kissed.

He still wasn’t certain at what moment he’d been fully aware this hot encounter was with the Robin Lee he’d known. Maybe when he’d caught a determined glint in her eyes, and he’d flashed on a similar look in a girl’s eyes back home….

But those thoughts had melted when the kissing heated up. And what a kiss. Hot, intense, full of surprises. One moment she was nibbling and suckling his lip, the next she was doing that squeaking thing with her feet as though one part of her body had decided to dance while the rest of her made love to him. And he’d gone along, at first a bit stunned, then warming up until he was gorging on the sensations, like a starved man sitting down to a feast. An indulgence he never experienced in his logical, business-centered life.

Then afterward, when they’d disentangled themselves, and she stumbled over the word “coffee,” the pieces of her personality fell together. Had to be Robin Lee, the kid sister of his childhood pal. But just now, when she’d whispered his name—a soft, awe-filled “Johnny”—that’s when he knew for certain. He’d heard that same awe-inspired tone from her as a girl. He’d thought it was endearing back then. Now it was downright intoxicating.

Curious as to what lay behind her unique assertiveness-training techniques, he’d hung outside, waiting for her to leave. But now, he realized he’d waited outside for another reason. Knowing it was Robin was like reacquainting himself with his past, a time when life was purer. Not necessarily easier, but purer. Less complicated, more understandable. The life he often wished he could step back into again, even while knowing it was too late.

“I—I’m sorry,” Robin whispered.

He paused. “Because you kissed me?” He’d leave out the pie-dipped fingers and the writhing on the table.

She nodded.

He waited. Although it appeared she was bursting to speak, she remained silent. He knew she could be chatty as all get-out—he’d seen it many times with her family. But outside her home she clammed up. If only there was more light, he could read the thoughts and emotions in her expressive eyes.

“I don’t regret you kissing me,” he said gently. He could have said more. Confessed that no woman had kissed him the way Robin had tonight—a kiss tendered with the years of a heart-struck kid turned woman. A kiss that tasted like something sweet turned mouthwatering delectable. And he thought he’d experienced every possible kiss available. Especially after Denver’s slick 5280 magazine had nominated him one of the top ten “Most Eligible Bachelors of the Year” two years running, Johnny had had his share of lip-locks. He could almost categorize them. There were the “Good night, will I see you again?” kisses, the “I promise you a good time” kisses, even the “I want to get married” kisses.

But none compared to being blindsided by Robin’s sizzlingly sweet, hitched-up-on-the-table, I’m-gonna-take-you kiss. Hell, she was a category unto herself.

But it didn’t take an idiot to see that this thunder-struck woman was obviously chastising herself for her spontaneous whatever-it-was moment back there in the diner. She’d surprised him, but he was a master at playing people and situations—and this one he’d play with a sense of humor. Get her to lighten up a little.

“You always serve customers like that?” he teased.

She shook her head rapidly back and forth. A wisp of her blond hair fell across her eye, which she shakily brushed back.

Okay, cool it with the lightening-up approach. Robin Lee had been a stutterer, and from what little she’d said to him tonight, she still struggled with talking.

But damn talented with words. The written ones, anyway. It was as though all that creativity flowed from her soul down to her fingertips as she wrote her essays and short stories. And for one of those she’d won a prize at school. He remembered the day well—she’d been twelve, he eighteen. Johnny had cut classes to hunt for his kid brother Frankie who was fast believing that the solution to poverty was to shoplift and hot-wire cars.

Only instead of finding Frankie, Johnny had found Robin dawdling in a park. It had taken some coaxing, but she’d finally admitted she was playing hooky so she wouldn’t have to accept a writing award. After Johnny bought her a chocolate shake at a local pharmacy, she admitted she desperately wanted the award, but she didn’t want to accept it in front of an auditorium filled with people because she’d have to say something—and what if she stuttered?

So Johnny had made a pact with her. He’d be there, front row, and all she had to do was look at him and say “thank you” into the microphone. And that afternoon, he’d shown up as promised, and watched as a proud and happy Robin stepped up to the podium, accepted the plaque and while leaning into the microphone and looking directly into his eyes, whispered, “Thank you.”

All these years later, he felt as though she were looking at him again with that mix of shyness and steely determination. Only this time instead of the child, he was returning the gaze of a woman.

Shifting his stance, more to hide his body’s obvious reaction to her, he checked out the parking lot. It was empty except for a dilapidated green pickup with a broken driver’s-side mirror. “I’ll see you to your truck.”

She shook her head. “I—I’m walking.”

He looked up and down the street. Except for a bar a block away, this diner was the sole business with its lights still on. The other buildings were apartment complexes, duplexes, an occasional one-story home. And all had bars on their windows and doors. “Walking in this area of town, at this hour? Are you crazy?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, broken by an apologetic, pixielike smile that finally broke on Robin’s face. She shrugged and nodded in the affirmative. “M-my car’s…” She blinked slowly, not wanting to start a conversation. She never knew when she’d stutter, and considering she was stumbling through words already, she’d just stop here.

He gave her such a look of understanding, she smiled in relief.No words are necessary.

“Then I’m walking with you. I took the light-rail, so I don’t have my car.” Whenever he felt burdened or troubled, he liked to try and recapture how it used to be, years ago, when life was simpler.

Plus, tonight he hadn’t wanted to stay home because Penny would call and call, just as she did every time she dumped him. Only this time he’d told her she was right, no use in their staying together because he didn’t want to tie the knot. But as usual, she hadn’t liked his response. Even when he’d explained,again, that he wasn’t the marrying kind because marriage meant trouble. Like the kind he’d grown up with—an alcoholic father, a delinquent brother and a home filled with the kind of furniture most people threw out.

So rather than answer the phone, and rehash the marriage thing all over again, he’d done what he always did when life crowded him—he returned to his past. Or tried to. He’d left the Jaguar at home and jumped on public transportation, hopping off at some coffee shop or diner where he could blend into the crowd as Johnny Dayton, a person he used to be.

And it’d been years since anyone or anything had reinforced that person…until tonight. Until Robin had whispered “Johnny.” Hearing his old name had felt sweet, but painful. Like a knife plunging into him. Slicing deep, but not finding the man she thought he was.

And yet,she believed him to be that man….

He clamped tight his jaw, refusing to admit to Robin he was no longer that man. He’d never tell her how he’d changed, who he’d become.

He raised his eyebrows, realizing she hadn’t responded to his question. “Is it all right that I walk you home?” Maybe she had someone waiting for her there, like a boyfriend or husband. An irrational jolt of jealousy shot through him.

“It’s all right,” she said softly. And in the stray light from the diner’s windows, he caught her blushing. A reaction so innocent, it nearly knocked him off his feet. Penny never blushed. For that matter, none of the women he’d dated these past number of years had blushed. They’d seen too much, knew too much….

Which made Robin all the more rare.

He turned slightly and said, “Okay, let’s go. You lead…” he looked over his shoulder “…which I know you can do.”

The first block they walked in silence. Johnny was aware of the moonlight-glazed world, the congestion of parked cars along the narrow streets, the late-summer scents of roses and lavender…but mostly he was aware of Robin walking next to him, seemingly lost in her thoughts. For a woman who’d damn near attacked him in public, she was certainly acting shy now that they had some privacy. Not such a surprise, though, when he thought back to the girl who was expressive inside her home, but withdrawn outside.

He slowed his pace, almost imperceptibly, positioning himself slightly behind his walking companion to better observe her. Her head bobbed in time to her determined gait. Her rayon dress swished as she walked, and his imagination wandered, wondering what lay beneath that sound. In his mind’s eye, he again envisioned the kind of curves reminiscent of those early-twentieth-century paintings where a woman was soft, rounded…where flesh was alabaster and pink. He’d always had a keen interest in that era—maybe it was the businessman in him, intrigued with the revolutionary changes brought by electricity and the automobile. And as a man, he’d been just as intrigued with what he viewed as the last romantic woman—the Gibson Girl with her long hair curled in a luscious heap on her head, the long lacy feminine clothes, the petal-pink lips curved in secretive smiles….

He stared at the long wisps of Robin’s hair and wondered how those glossy locks would look curled on top of her head. He imagined one escaped ringlet falling seductively down her pale neck. She was the type of woman who’d be a lady on the outside, but not such a lady in the bedroom….

He nearly ran into Robin when she stopped abruptly. In the moonlight, he could barely make out her facial features, much less decipher the look on her face, but she was definitely staring at him. Intensely.

“Something wrong?” he finally asked, wondering in some kind of insane way if she’d been reading his thoughts. He, who always felt he had the upper hand with people, suddenly felt awkward, as though his mind had been caught in the hot cookie jar.

Silence. More staring. Nearby, a dog barked.

A light breeze lifted a lock of her hair, the moonlight playing wicked tricks as it glinted silver off the blond strands. Impossible to see her eyes, which were in shadow, so he couldn’t translate the dead-on stare she was giving him. Years ago, a younger Robin Lee hadn’t had such difficulty speaking to him. Maybe she just needed time to feel comfortable with him again.

Or maybe there was something she wanted to tell him. He’d heard from a buddy that there’d been a car accident several years ago in Buena Vista, one involving Robin and her mother, but Johnny hadn’t heard much more. Besides, Robin seemed fine….

So why had she stopped? He looked over his shoulder at a square building with layers of windows. “Is…that your building?”

She shook her head no, then turned and kept walking down the sidewalk. He kept up with her, wondering how long they’d continue on this silent journey.

Robin bit her bottom lip, mentally beating herself up for being the most boring walking companion in Denver, if not the entire world. How many times as a kid had she fantasized about being with Johnny, being able to be the one and only girl in his world, and finally she gets that chance and how does she act? Like some kind of robot.Silent robot. Okay, maybe she couldn’t compete with women who teased with words, but surely she could do more than march along beside him! She had wanted to confess as much a moment ago when she’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at him…but words had failed her.

Even when he’d asked her a question. But rather than try to explain what was going on inside of her, she’d just continued walking.

The only redeeming factor to this embarrassing stroll was that her shoes weren’t squeaking on the cement.

Finally, they reached her building. She turned, quickly walked up a narrow cement path, and headed up the stairs to her second-story apartment. Behind her she heard his steps following. And with each step, her heart thundered, her breath heaved. Maybe verbally she wasn’t speaking to him, but if only he could hear her body! It pulsed and throbbed and vibrated like some kind of human Geiger counter.

On the second-level landing, she turned right and headed down the dimly lit hallway toward a wooden door with the tarnished silver letters 2B. She’d been in Denver a year, but this was the first time she’d brought anybody to her place, and here she was bringing Johnny Dayton home.

A crazy quote flitted through her mind. “To be or not to be.” Now was the moment to be or not to be. Stopping, she fumbled in her sweater pocket for the keys.

Johnny stopped, but not too near. He looked so darned confused, she felt a twinge of remorse. She didn’t mean to run hot and cold—it’s just when it came to words, she didn’t always trust herself. But he had to know that about her. How many times had the teenaged Johnny Dayton hung out at their house, swigging pops with her older brother, talking about school, cars, girls…and Robin had dawdled nearby, occasionally chiming in when the mood struck. Within the comfort of her home, she had always felt more comfortable opening up, talking….

But then Johnny knew that, too. That day he’d found her hiding out in the park, afraid to go to school because she didn’t want to make a speech, she’d told him why. And he’d encouraged her, told her he’d be there, and because of him she had one of the greatest memories of her life—the day she won the middle-school first-place prize for her short story.

Looking at Johnny all these years later, she wanted to pour out everything in her heart. Tell him how he was her first and only crush, how no man compared to the incomparable Johnny…how he stood for everything she admired in the world—truth, integrity, guts. Everyone in Buena Vista knew he’d had it tough—a father who spent more time at the local bar than at home, a kid brother who seemed determined to end up in jail.

But despite his home life, Johnny kept his cool. Never let circumstances drag him down—or never let it show, anyway. She quickly glanced up and down, sizing up how far he had come. The worn leather jacket and rumpled good looks were like the old Johnny. But he was different, too. The gold watch on his wrist looked expensive. And the wary look in his eyes was new, too. How she’d like to ask what had happened over the past fourteen years…

…and how she’d like to tell him today had been the worst day of her life. And explain that crazy, hot moment at the diner. She’d tell him how desperately she’d wanted to one-up Jill, end the day as a success instead of as a loser, so Robin had seized the moment, so to speak.

Forget the diner. In a rush of insight, Robin suddenly knew that if she went inside her apartment without seizing this moment, without letting Johnny know the feelings and needs that lay within her heart, this day would truly be the very worst in her life.

She’d really be a loser, all the way around.

Blinking, she turned, and looked at him. I’m not a loser. She took his large, warm hand and raised it to her lips, which trembled as she pressed a kiss into his palm. His skin was warm, his scent masculine. She let her lips linger, move imperceptively against his palm as her heart whispered its secrets.

“Robin,” he murmured, more astounded by this simple act of affection than the fiery kiss at the diner. And when she looked up, with that beseechingly sweet look on her face, heat spread through his body, as though radiating from her.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, closing the space between them and filling his arms with her. He nuzzled her hair, her cheek, and inhaled her scent. A hint of lavender teased his senses and he thought how it reminded him of her. Bright, fragrant, wild…the real Robin underneath her quiet exterior.

He hugged her close, relishing the feel of her softness against his body. He kissed her forehead, her nose, and inched his lips to her mouth…but didn’t kiss her. Instead, he lingered at the corner of those luscious lips—those luscious, petal-pink lips—and savored the puffs of sweet, heated breath against his cheek.

He pulled back and stared into her half-closed eyes. “What do you want, Robin?”

She licked her plump, moist lips.

That did it. A primal need erupted within him and he backed her against the door, clamping his mouth on hers. Earlier he’d felt like a starving man at a feast cut short, and now he made up for it with a savage hunger. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, devouring its flavors.

She eagerly reciprocated, accepting his kiss with a ferocity that made it damn hard for him to keep control. She kissed with the passion he’d tasted back in the diner. Hot, needy. A flower turned inside out, opening herself and her desires fully to him.

He nipped her neck and she groaned. He proceeded farther, tracing her collarbone with his lips, kissing and licking a path along her silky skin. He tasted her sweat, her fragrance…And when he reached the opening of the front of her dress, where every single pearl-size button was demurely fastened, he knew her clothing made a liar out of her. Those fastenings were a front, showing a woman seemingly tight, contained when he knew damn well that underneath this dress was fire and passion. He pulled away, his fingers lingering on the button.

Her gray-green eyes glinted with need as she leaned back, the movement releasing his hold on that single button. For a moment, she simply watched him, her shoulders pressed against the door, her hips thrust forward ever so slightly. Then, slowly, her hand moved up her dress, flat-palmed, sliding over her torso, up between her breasts, until she gently touched the top button which she rolled seductively between her fingers, watching him watching her.

He never thought he’d lose it over a button. But at this moment, he was in such erotic pain, it took all his willpower not to tear that damn rayon number off her.

She undid the button, slowly. Her lips moved, almost imperceptibly, and she whispered something….

He could barely hear through the blood roaring in his ears. He positioned his head close to her mouth, straining to hear her breathy tones.

“More,” she whispered. “More…”

“Oh, God, yes.” The soft ache in her voice fired his need. He gently pulled her hand off the button, then lifted her arm and pressed it against the door, pinning it over her head. He fit her other hand into the held one. With his free hand, he took his sweet time undoing the second button…gently pulled back the material to expose her skin.

He sucked in an appreciative breath. Her skin was pink and alabaster, just as he’d imagined. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. He closed his eyes, then opened them.I shouldn’t take it further.

As though picking up on his thoughts, she arched her back, thrusting her breasts against him. Such a natural, primitive gesture, almost innocent in its desire. And when she moaned his name, softly, he lowered his head and kissed the skin exposed at the opening to her dress. She tasted silky against his tongue. Smelled erotically sweet, like ripened fruit.

With a guttural groan, he undid the third button with his teeth, playing with the hardened button, imaging it to be her taut nipple. Opening the top of her dress wider with his free hand, he slid his tongue over the white lace that skimmed the top of her bra, gliding his lips over the soft mound of one breast, then the other…

A prolonged, scratchy sound fractured the moment.

Robin? Was he hurting her?

Johnny reared back and looked into Robin’s surprised expression.

Another scratchy, tormented sound. Accompanied by a heaviness on one of Johnny’s feet.

He quickly glanced down at a chubby cat, covered with more fur than he thought possible, perched on his right foot! The cat looked up, opened its mouth and emitted another long, scratchy me-e-e-e-o-ow.

With a groan, Robin sank down, her body still plastered against Johnny’s, and scratched the cat on its head. “Otto, why aren’t you inside your own home?”

Johnny held his breath, his body aflame. Robin had spoken, fluently, which moved him. Obviously she knew this furry feline very well—it probably belonged to one of her neighbors. But in the back of Johnny’s mind, he had a crazy hope that maybe her fluency was because she felt more comfortable with him.

Robin lifted the rotund cat and cradled it into her arms. Nuzzling its head with her chin, she scratched it behind its ear. The cat closed its eyes in bliss and purred so loud, it sounded like an engine chugging to life. Damn, he knew just how that cat felt right now.

“You can stay with me tonight, you silly thing.” Offering a slight smile to Johnny, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She took a deep breath, her back to Johnny, hugging the cat tightly against her. Now was her moment.Ask him inside. Let him stay the night, too.

Damn, she was shaking just thinking about Johnny being inside her home, touching her, kissing her…savoring a night of love…something she’d never done with any man. Romps in the back seat of her hometown boyfriend’s car ended after a few hours, so she’d never known what it was like to have a man hold her the entire night. She could only imagine the sensation of her and Johnny’s bodies curled around each other, all night long, then watching the next day dawn on their new relationship as lovers.

And what would that relationship be? Maybe he had no intention of spending the night, and she’d wake up alone. Was there a girlfriend in the picture? There was definitely no wedding ring, but Johnny had always been good—no, make that dynamite—with women. Maybe he was playing the field, and she’d be just another woman in his menagerie….

Only when Otto squirmed in her arms, emitting an irritated meow, did Robin realize she was squeezing the poor cat to her chest, holding on to it like a furry life raft.

Instead of worrying, she needed to cut short tonight’s visit. She wished she could grab a piece of paper and write, “It’s happening too fast…let’s take our time, figure out what’s going on between us…” But instead she just stood and stared at him, her eyes growing moist with all the pent-up needs and emotions storming within her. Maybe he’d return…but she knew she shouldn’t count on it. This was, after all, an unusual reunion.

Johnny stared into her eyes, which glistened with emotions that confused him, and wondered what to do. He, who prided himself on knowing just how to read and play people, especially female people—digressed into an awkward teenager, unsure what his next step should be. Was she taking the cat and Johnny inside for the night? He felt a gut-deep yearning like he hadn’t experienced in years as he wished, damn near prayed, that he got visiting rights, as well.

Robin held the cat close, and for a moment, Johnny hated that cute, furry creature. So close to Robin’s silky, flower-scented skin, cuddled and cooed over.

Getting what Johnny wanted, bad.

A twittering sound came from somewhere behind Robin. She looked over her shoulder, then back to Johnny. “I—I have a bird.”

He waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. Instead, after a funny little shrug of her shoulders, she blinked rapidly—yet despite her nervous gestures, he swore he read that look in her eyes. Swore she wanted to ask him inside.

“G’night,” Robin mouthed and shut the door.

Well, he couldn’t have sworn that was going to happen.

Johnny remained standing on her doorstep for what seemed a small eternity, half tempted to meow pathetically like Otto in the hope Robin would reopen the door and take pity on him.

Right. I know how to read and play people. I’m standing outside a woman’s apartment in the middle of the night, contemplating doing animal impersonations so she’ll open the door. He heaved a lungful of cool air, willing the chilled air to temper his fierce physical need. Willing himself to get his head on straight even if his body was out of control. It’s sweet Robin Lee, he reminded himself.Take a step back, buddy. Take it easy. Get to know her better before you jump her bones. Maybe he’d call her over the next few days. They’d visit. He’d talk to her…well, try to. Ask to see some of her writing. Ask to see pictures of her family.

The sound of a car cruising down the street reminded Johnny about the light-rail. He flicked his wrist, checked the time. The rail had stopped running a good hour ago. He needed to find a taxi or bus so he didn’t end up walking all the way back to Cherry Creek. With tremendous effort, he turned and headed down the stairs, remembering how Robin had clutched that poor cat so hard, its eyes were damn near bulging.

Johnny chuckled under his breath, recalling the image. And what had her last words been? “I have a bird.” He crammed his hands in his jacket pockets, fighting the urge to laugh out loud. He’d stood on his share of ladies’ doorsteps, but never had one of them said that before closing the door.

“I have a bird,” he whispered under his breath, hunching against the cool evening breezes, relishing a passing scent of lavender. “I want one, too,” he murmured. “A Robin.”