Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 41

PUTTING her hand in his was like touching a live wire.

A current of electricity seemed to flow between them, one even stronger than the flickering awareness she’d felt all night.

Daisy was aware of the pressure of Alex’s strong fingers wrapping around hers as he led her through the doors and onto the dance floor. But it was nothing compared to her awareness when he took her in his arms.

She almost stumbled against him as she tried to do the opposite and keep a respectable distance between them. It was a battle because every instinct in her went to him like a moth to the proverbial flame.

Every touch was memorable. His fingers encased hers warmly. She was exquisitely aware of his hand pressing lightly at the small of her back. She was close enough that she could catch a faint hint of soap and aftershave. And a quick glance showed her how smooth-shaven his jaw was. She remembered it rougher, had loved to stroke her hand over it, stubbled one way, smooth the other.

Abruptly she turned her head, trying to follow his lead at the same time and nearly tripped over his foot. He caught her, pulled her closer. And Daisy knew the sensation of her body melting into his, as if she belonged there, wrapped in his arms.

She had danced with lots of other men. She had felt other men’s hands on her body. None—not even Cal’s—evoked such strong reactions.

Even now, knowing he was not for her, knowing for a fact that she and Alex had no future, Daisy could not deny that Alex’s touch, Alex’s smile, Alex’s gaze brought to life something inside her that no other man’s ever had.

Dancing with Alex was, just as it had been five years ago, the Cinderella experience that Daisy had remembered.

She understood now how she had been swept away by it. There was a feeling of rightness, of perfect understanding, that she’d never had with anyone else. And it scared her to feel it again and know how wrong it had been.

She forced herself to remain clearheaded and sane. She looked away from his hard jaw to study the room, determined to commit it to memory. She focused on the music, tried to think of the title, the composer, to isolate the instruments. And all the while she was aware of the man who held her in his arms.

His breath teased the tendrils of her hair. His trouser-clad legs brushed the silk of her dress. And every touch, every brush set off a hum of something electric. And the study of the room and the music and everything else faded away.

It was all right, she told herself. Nothing was going to happen on a dance floor. He couldn’t sweep her off her feet. She couldn’t slide a hand between the buttons of his shirt.

So where was the harm in appreciating the feel of hard muscles under her fingertips? Why not give in, just for the moment, to the instinctive rhythm they seemed to engage in when they moved to the music? As long as she didn’t allow herself to remember the instinctive rhythm they’d brought to their lovemaking …

There was a point beyond which lay foolishness. Daisy had been there once. Never again.

Careful, she warned herself. Be careful.

But her head turned and so did his. Her lips brushed his jaw. His touched her ear. A shiver ran from the hairs on her neck to the tips of her toes. Her body trembled. Her knees wobbled. And deep in the center of her, something ached with the desire she refused to admit.

She took a breath. “So,” she said, “tell me about Caroline.”

She was gratified when Alex seemed briefly to stumble. But then he caught himself and without even looking directly at him, she saw his jaw ease as if he were smiling.

“Caroline is amazing,” he said. “She’s quick. Witty. Beautiful.”

His voice was warm, animated. Of course it was. Caroline was his woman. Remember that, Daisy told herself sharply and kept asking him Caroline-related questions.

Maybe it was masochistic. Maybe it was just the only way to keep her common sense. Whatever it was, it helped. Daisy made herself listen as he told her all about the ad campaign Caroline was developing that had taken her to Hong Kong. Alex told her about how Caroline had been headhunted by five different companies in the past two years.

“She’s amazingly successful. Definitely making her mark. She’s even thinking she might go out on her own in the next couple of years.” He clearly approved of her ambition and her talent. Daisy forced herself to think about that and not about the way his legs brushed against hers.

“So what are you waiting for if she’s so wonderful?” She ventured a glance at his face, wanting to see his expression.

A tiny crease appeared between his brows. The muscles in his shoulder tensed beneath her hand, and hard green eyes looked down into hers. “I thought you weren’t in favor of quick decisions these days,” he said sharply.

“Yes, well, I’m not you.”

Alex grunted. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t answer. Didn’t talk about Caroline anymore, either.

Daisy tried to stifle her irritation. She told herself it didn’t matter, but for some reason it did. It would be easier if he were engaged. Easier to stop thinking about how damned appealing he still was.

Well, fine, if he wouldn’t help her out by talking about Caroline, she’d talk about the pulmonologist whose photos she’d taken for Lauren Nicols.

“I have to thank you for sending Lauren my way,” she said. She didn’t really want to be beholden to him. But it was her own work that had caused Lauren to call, nothing he’d done. So she talked about that. And Alex seemed grateful enough to take up that topic of conversation. Then the dance was over, and Douglas Standish asked to partner her for the next one.

She danced with half a dozen men, and only reaffirmed that no one’s touch affected her the way Alex’s did. She seemed to be aware of him—where he was, who he was dancing with—even when he was nowhere near. Actually though, he always seemed to be somewhere fairly near. Wherever her partners danced her, Alex was never far away.

She tried not to look at him, tried not to envy the women he held in his arms, tried not to gauge if he had held them as closely as he’d held her. But she couldn’t help noticing that while he danced and chatted with them, his gaze often sought her.

It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

But she couldn’t quite stifle the gratification she felt every time she felt his eyes on her. She didn’t dare catch his eye, though. It would be playing with fire. And Daisy had no intention of playing with fire, though there seemed to be one kindling somewhere just south of her midsection, and every time she looked his way, the fire grew.

The evening passed quickly. It was nine-thirty. Ten. Then nearly eleven. They danced. They visited with people Alex had worked with. They danced again. And this time the flames burned even hotter than before.

His eyes seemed to bore into hers whenever she looked at him. Their legs brushed. Their bodies touched. Against her breasts, she could feel the beat of his heart. With everyone else they spoke easily, casually. But when they danced, they had little to say to each other, and the conflagration continued to build.

It wasn’t yet midnight, not even eleven-thirty. But Daisy knew she needed to be sensible. While she wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, and Izzy was keeping Charlie until the morning, a woman could stand just so much temptation.

But one more dance wouldn’t hurt, she thought as the music began again and, wordlessly, Alex drew her once more into his arms. They hadn’t danced with each other two dances in a row. But it seemed natural now. Right.

Inevitable.

Just as, inevitably, in a few minutes she would say thank-you for a nice evening and take her leave.

But now—just for a few moments more, Daisy allowed herself the luxury of lingering close to him, to luxuriate in the warmth and the nearness of his body, to relish the shiver she felt at his warm breath against her hair.

It’s all right, she assured herself. It’s just now. Just this moment. Not forever. She had no expectations this time. She was only making memories that would last her through the years.

Her body trembled. Vibrated. Particularly her hip.

Her hip? For a moment she didn’t know what was happening. The vibration stopped, thank God. But almost instantly, it started again.

Daisy stumbled, realizing that this vibration had nothing to do with the nearness of Alex and everything to do with the tiny mobile phone she’d tucked into the on-seam pocket of the dress.

“You won’t need it,” Izzy had said.

But Daisy had insisted. Most glitzy high-fashion dresses clung so tightly that anything more than underwear—and sometimes even that—was too much. But Izzy’s gorgeous kicky swirly dress flared at the hips, and Daisy had put her phone into one of its tiny pockets.

“Just in case,” she’d said, patting it.

“Suit yourself. I won’t be calling you,” Izzy had vowed.

But someone was calling her now.

Alex caught her when she stumbled. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my phone.”

His brows drew together. “Your phone? Who the hell do you need to talk to tonight?”

Daisy didn’t answer that. “Sorry.” She shrugged, half apologetic, half worried as she slipped out of his arms and moved to the edge of the dance floor. “I have to get this.”

Alex followed her. “One of your clients out on a hot date and need advice?” he growled.

Daisy glanced at the caller ID. It was Izzy. She answered at once. “Is it Charlie? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“He’s fine,” Izzy said quickly. She sounded as out of breath as Daisy felt. “Well, not entirely fine. But nothing life-threatening. Really. Don’t panic.”

“What happened?” Daisy pressed the phone hard against her ear, trying to hear above the music.

“He was following Rip,” Izzy reported ruefully. “Doing what the big boys do. They were climbing on the bunk beds. Rip has this notion that he can move all around their bedroom without touching the floor—”

“Oh, God.”

“Well, he can,” Izzy admitted. “Of course he’s bigger than Charlie. He has longer arms and legs. More wingspan.”

Daisy didn’t need to have it spelled out. “Oh, God,” she said again, knees wobbling.

“Charlie’s a pretty impressive climber,” Izzy said with the calm that came from having got sons through the first decade of their adventurous lives. “And jumper—but he didn’t quite make it to the top of the chair from Rip’s bunk. He’s broken his arm. I’m so sorry, Daisy. I feel terrible. I—”

“Where is he? St. Luke’s?”

“Yes. Finn’s taking him. We’re on a first-name basis with the emergency room staff.”

“I’ll meet him there.” Daisy was already headed for the nearest exit so she could grab her coat and then a cab.

“I’m so sorry,” Izzy repeated. “And Rip is devastated.”

“Tell him not to worry. I’m sure it will be fine.” She just needed to get there. Now.

“I feel so responsible. Or, as Finn says, irresponsible.”

“Don’t. It’s not your fault.”

“It is. I forget how much younger Charlie is. Call me as soon as you’ve seen him. Promise?”

“I promise.” Daisy stuffed the phone back into her pocket and headed for the cloak room.

“What is it? What happened?”

Dear God, she’d forgotten about Alex!

Daisy shot him a quick glance and apologetic smile over her shoulder. “I—It’s … an emergency. A friend …” She gave a vague wave of her hand as she skirted around groups of people in the foyer. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“I figured that out,” Alex said gruffly. “Not a client.”

“No.”

“Your ex?” he bit out.

Daisy blinked at him. “What?”

“Guess not. A new boyfriend?” His gaze narrowed. When she didn’t answer, it narrowed further. “Did you tell him you were coming out with me?”

There were no answers to anything he was likely to ask now. “I need to go, Alex,” she repeated, then forced herself to stop and face him squarely, even managing to paste a smile on her face. “Thank you for this evening. I enjoyed it.”

“I did, too,” he said, a grim set to his mouth. Then he stepped around her to present the claim check for her coat to the lady behind the desk.

“Thank you. You don’t have to wait. I’ll just catch a cab.”

He didn’t reply. But he didn’t leave, either. And moments later, when the lady brought her coat and she reached for it, Alex was there first, shaking it out and holding it so she could slip it on.

“Thank you.” As the coat settled on her shoulders, Daisy flicked a grateful smile in his general direction. “I’m sorry to run off. I did have a lovely evening.” She paused, hoping he’d say, Of course, I understand. Thank you for coming. Then, niceties observed, she could dart away.

He said, “I’ll come with you.”

“No! I mean, no, thank you. It’s not necessary. Really, Alex. I mean it,” she said when she saw his jaw tighten. “Thank you for everything, but I’ll say good-night here.” There was a moment’s silence. Then, not knowing what else to do, she thrust out a hand for him to shake.

He looked at it as if she’d offered him a poisonous snake.

Hastily Daisy withdrew it. “Good night, Alex.” And without giving him time to reply she turned and darted out of the hotel to catch a cab.

He should just let her walk away and get on with his life.

It was clearly what she wanted. Whatever the hell she was doing, dropping everything and running off at the drop of a hat, it wasn’t any of his business.

Alex knew that.

She didn’t want him there. He knew that, too.

But he couldn’t let her go and face whatever the hell she was about to face when the mere thought of it turned her white-faced and stricken.

So what if it was a boyfriend? Once he saw that she was all right, he’d leave her to it. To him—the boyfriend. Though he couldn’t help grinding his teeth at the thought.

The cab he’d grabbed outside the Plaza took a right on Fifty-seventh and headed west. It was Saturday night in midtown, and the traffic was bumper-to-bumper traffic. The theaters had just disgorged people by the hundreds onto the streets. Progress was excruciatingly slow.

He should have just followed her straight out the door. But she’d got a head start on him, and then Standish had called his name. There was no way to pretend he hadn’t heard, and impossible to be impolite and brush the older man off—not without being able to offer a convincing excuse.

And what was he going to say? “My date had to rush to the hospital because she thinks her ex-husband … or maybe her boyfriend … or some guy she knows called Charlie needs her?”

Damn it. Didn’t she have any pride?

He glared out at the traffic, willing it to move. At least Standish had told him where St. Luke’s was. It wasn’t that close to Daisy’s office, though perhaps it was near where she actually lived.

He didn’t even know where she lived. Something else she hadn’t shared with him. And something else to fume about until the driver dropped him off outside the emergency services department and sped away.

Facing it, Alex’s feet suddenly felt rooted to the pavement.

He didn’t do hospitals. Of course he’d been in and out of the hospital he’d designed the wing for. But he’d never been in it other than for work. He’d never been in a hospital for anything resembling a medical reason—for anyone—since the day Vass died. Everything in him wanted to walk away.

Only the memory of Daisy’s stricken face made him take a breath, then another deep one, and stride straight in.

It was a zoo. There were people everywhere, sitting, standing, crying, bleeding, filling out forms.

Not one of them was Daisy.

Alex stood by the door, cracking his knuckles. He didn’t even know who to ask for. Charlie Somebody.

Hell, he didn’t even know the guy’s last name. He got in line anyway. Maybe he’d spot her before he had to come up with a name.

He was two cases from the desk when he heard the sound of her voice. His head jerked around, his heart lurched at the sight of her drawn pale face.

She stood in the doorway of one of the examining rooms, her expression intent as she listened to a white-coated doctor. Whatever he said, she nodded, still looking fragile. The doctor patted her arm, then went into the room. Daisy started to go after him.

Alex went after her. “Daisy!”

She jerked as if she’d been shot. Then she spun around, white as a sheet.

He started to go to her, but instead she hurried toward him. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was thready, strained.

He just looked at her. “You’re here.”

She swallowed. Something shuttered in her gaze. “You don’t need to be here.”

“You look like hell.”

“Thank you so much.”

He moved closer. She moved back until he’d cornered her between a chair and the wall. Then he put a hand on her arm so she couldn’t pull away. “I came to see if I could help, Daisy.”

She shook her head almost fiercely. “I don’t need your help. I told you that. It’ll be all right.”

“Charlie will,” he clarified, needing to see her reaction to his name. He tried to keep his voice even, nonjudgmental, but he didn’t like it when she flinched.

Her jaw tightened. Her fingers knotted.

“Is it bad?” he asked. He didn’t want the guy to die, for heaven’s sake. He just didn’t want Daisy dropping everything to race across the city for him.

“He has a broken arm.”

“A broken arm?” Alex almost laughed with relief at the same time he felt a surge of annoyance. “All this hysteria for a broken arm?”

“I’m not hysterical!” Daisy said indignantly. There was color in her cheeks again.

He couldn’t help grinning. “No? Taking a phone call in the middle of a dance? Rushing out of the hotel? For a broken arm?”

“I apologized,” Daisy said tightly. She hugged her arms across her chest. “You didn’t have to come. I certainly didn’t invite you!”

“I thought he might be dying. You looked devastated. I didn’t want you to have to face it alone.”

Something flickered across her features. She hesitated for a moment, as if she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Then she nodded. “That was kind of you. Thank you. But it really wasn’t necessary.” She straightened, pulled her arm out of his grasp, and gave him what he supposed was a dismissive smile. “It will be fine. He will be. I just … Maybe I overreacted. Don’t worry. No one’s going to die. Now, please excuse me.” She tried to slip around him.

But Alex was in no mood to be dismissed and he blocked her way. “Who is he, Daisy?”

She didn’t answer. He didn’t think she was going to. But then a nurse poked her head out of the examination room. “Mrs. Connolly, Charlie’s asking for you. Doctor is going to put the cast on now.”

Once more Daisy started to move away, but Alex caught her arm. “He’s asking for you?” he said mockingly. “To what? Hold his hand?”

Her teeth came together. Her eyes flashed. “Maybe. He’s a little boy,” she snapped, her eyes flashing anger. “He’s my son.”

Her son? Daisy had a son?

But before he could do more than reel at her words, Daisy had jerked her arm away, cut around him and stalked back into the examination room. The door shut behind her with a resounding bang.

A dozen people stopped talking and looked around in surprise.

Alex felt as if he’d been punched. Where the hell did she get a son?

Well, of course, he supposed she’d got the boy the time-honored way—she and her ex. But why hadn’t she mentioned him?

Not that it was his business. But still …

Alex glared at all the people who were still murmuring and staring at him as if it were his fault she’d stormed away and slammed the door. He wouldn’t have minded slamming one or two himself. Instead he stalked over to an empty chair by the windows and flung himself down.

He didn’t know how long he waited. Long enough to have plenty of second thoughts. Daisy wasn’t going to be happy to come out and find that he had waited. She’d made that perfectly clear.

And did he really want to meet Daisy’s child?

It was annoying enough to think that she had professed to love him, then turned around and married someone else. To be honest, Alex had felt a certain satisfaction knowing her rebound marriage hadn’t lasted.

That it had resulted in a child was somehow disconcerting.

A child. Charlie.

Alex tried to imagine a little boy who looked like Daisy. Would he have her mischievous grin, a dimple in one cheek, freckles across his nose and a mop of honey-colored hair?

Or would the boy look like her ex-husband? Was the ex holding Charlie’s other hand in the exam room with them now? Alex straightened in the chair, scowling at the thought.

Maybe he was going to be sitting here when all three of them came out of the room together. And wouldn’t that be awkward as hell?

The noise of a crying baby, a croupy cough, a parent and teenager arguing washed right over him. Alex paid no attention. So it would be awkward. So what? He’d walked out on her and their child, hadn’t he?

Alex almost hoped the S.O.B. was here. He’d like to see what was so wonderful that Daisy had ever married him. Scowling, he shifted irritably in the chair, then looked up to see Daisy coming out of the examining room.

On her hip was a little boy with a mop of brownish-blonde hair and one arm in a bright blue cast. He’d expected a two-or three-year-old. But this boy looked bigger. Alex leaned forward, studying him intently. But he couldn’t see much. There were people in the way.

Daisy was listening to the nurse. They were standing just outside the exam room door. The boy was listening, too. Then he turned his head to look out at the waiting room.

Alex’s breath caught. His heart seemed to stutter even as he stared.

Charlie’s jaw was squarer than Daisy’s, his lower lip fuller, his nose a little sharper, his cheekbones higher. His eyes weren’t blue, they were green.

He didn’t really resemble Daisy at all. Even his hair was actually a deeper gold than Daisy’s. But Alex knew exactly who he was. He had known another boy with those eyes, that jaw, whose hair had been exactly that color.

His brother. Vassilios.