Читать книгу His San Diego Sweetheart - Yahrah John St. - Страница 14

Chapter 4

Vaughn glanced at the clock on the nightstand and watched the minutes tick by past 2:00 a.m. He was anxious, impatient, angry and downright mystified by Miranda’s reaction. He thought about how her huge brown eyes had looked tonight when she’d walked toward him, her arms encircling his neck as she’d laid one helluva kiss on him. It didn’t make any sense. One minute she was hot with desire for him and the next minute she was cold as ice, sending him away from her hotel room for the second night in a row. How was it possible that this beautiful stranger he’d only just met had him tied up in knots? Even more so, because now he knew what she tasted like. He remembered the way she’d kissed him back when he’d explored every nook and crevice of her deliciously sinful mouth. A mouth that was made for loving. His loving.

But she’d rejected him. Denying them both the satisfaction they both craved.

Why? The little sounds and moans she’d made as she’d ridden his shaft had told Vaughn exactly how much she wanted him. He should probably walk away and move on to another woman. An easier choice, who was confident enough in herself to take what she wanted, regardless of the consequences. But Miranda wasn’t that woman. Something was holding her back and he had to know why she was running scared; only then could he make peace with the situation. And, if necessary, allow himself to move on.

As if that were possible.

He’d never wanted another woman as achingly as he wanted Miranda and it wasn’t just because she’d turned him down either. He loved her independent streak and how she spoke of starting her own business, but there was also an innocence and vulnerability he saw in her that appealed to every male instinct in him to protect. Protect her.

Vaughn waited until a reasonable hour of the morning and after showering, he grabbed a mug of coffee from his favorite coffee house and headed for Miranda’s hotel. He was determined to get answers.

When he arrived, he tossed his keys at the valet and went straight for the elevators. He was halfway there when a mane of luscious black hair caught his attention. Vaughn stopped dead in his tracks. Miranda was at the front desk with a suitcase! He marched toward her.

“Hello, Miranda.”

Startled, she spun around on her heel. “V-Vaughn? W-what are you doing here?”

* * *

Miranda was stunned to see Vaughn standing behind her. When she’d looked up, her stomach dissolved into a familiar flutter at the sight of him. He was casually dressed in jeans and a T-shirt showing off his honed muscular body. She felt her throat go parched as she stared at the sensual curve of his mouth. A mouth that had darn near given her an orgasm last night. The way his lips had sucked her neck as his fingers had drifted over her bare legs had made her feel incredibly wanton.

“Ms. Jensen, here’s your bill.” The hotel clerk interrupted her lascivious thoughts and slid the bill across the counter.

Miranda turned around. “Thank you.” She glanced down at the charges, but hardly saw them because she could feel Vaughn’s rising anger from behind her and her skin prickled with guilt. He knew she’d been leaving without telling him goodbye. “The bill appears in order.”

“Very well, then. We’ll charge it to the card on file?”

Miranda nodded. She glanced behind her to see if Vaughn was still there, and he was. His hands were folded across his impressive chest and she could see he was not moving a muscle without an explanation. Once she’d concluded her transaction, Miranda reached for her suitcase, but Vaughn beat her to the punch and wheeled it away to a sofa in a secluded area of the lobby, where they could no doubt talk in private.

He motioned for her to sit and she did, while Vaughn opted for the chair beside her. She didn’t like it because she was caged in by Vaughn’s legs and the cocktail table. “So, Miranda, do you want to tell me why you were hightailing it out of town?”

“I’ve completed my business here,” she said. “It’s time for me to move on.”

His brow furrowed. “Is that a fact?”

“It is.” She straightened her shoulders. But even as she said the words, they both knew it was a lie.

She was leaving because Vaughn had gotten too close. When he was around, Miranda couldn’t think clearly. She only felt. Felt things she shouldn’t. Couldn’t afford to feel. She’d been preoccupied with this man for the last forty-eight hours. She’d been listless and distracted thinking about how he’d taken her in his arms and the excitement he made her feel. Last night, she’d been unable to sleep, remembering the passionate kissing and touching they’d shared in her room. She hadn’t been able to push the thoughts away and she was angry with herself for losing focus on her goal of finding a husband.

“That’s bull and you know it, Miranda,” Vaughn responded. “You’re leaving because you’re running scared. And I haven’t the faintest idea why.”

“That’s because you have no idea what I’m dealing with.” Miranda rose to her feet and so did Vaughn. “I have to go. I have a plane to catch.” She tried unsuccessfully to push past him, but all she was greeted with was a rock-hard wall of chest. “Move aside, Vaughn.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” he said. “And I think now is as good a time as any.” He grabbed her suitcase and took her other hand with his free hand and led her toward the exit.

“What do you think you’re doing,” she asked, nearly trotting to keep up with his long strides. “You can’t just manhandle me.”

“I can. And I will,” he said tightly. He handed the valet his ticket and she watched him scurry to get Vaughn’s vehicle.

Vaughn’s grip on her loosened, but instead of letting her go, he laced his fingers through hers. Miranda stared down at their joined hands. It was an innocent action, but held so much meaning. “I’m not letting you go,” he whispered, looking down at her. “Otherwise, I fear you’ll run in the opposite direction. So you’ll stay with me until you tell me the real reason you’re running and keeping me at arm’s length.”

They stood in relative silence, each in their own thoughts until the valet returned with Vaughn’s car several minutes later. Once Vaughn had ushered her inside the passenger side and put her luggage in his trunk, he got in the driver’s seat. “Buckle up, Miranda. Something tells me we’re in for a ride.”