Читать книгу Risking It All... - Yvonne Lindsay, Brenda Jackson - Страница 11

Two

“We were lucky the motel had a good fire alarm system.” John steered his big black truck down a winding back road. “It went up fast. Everyone got out, though.”

“That’s a relief. I’m glad the firefighters got there quickly and had time to check all the rooms. How long have you been a volunteer?”

“Oh, I joined the first moment they let me.” He turned and grinned. “More than fifteen years ago now. When I was a kid I wanted to be a firefighter.”

He should have become one. Much better than a gambling impresario. On the other hand, her strict upbringing had formed her distaste for gambling, but now that she was here it didn’t seem so different from any other business. She admired how John had pitched in and done anything and everything he could to help. He was thoughtful, too, talking to the other evacuees and reassuring them that the hotel staff would help them track down car keys, clothes and things like that in the morning. There was certainly no need for him to have offered everyone rooms at the hotel. He was being very generous. “What changed your mind?”

He shrugged. “I discovered I had a head for business. And at the time I was glad to leave this quiet backwater behind. I got seduced by the bright lights of the big city.”

“New York?”

“Boston. I’ve never lived outside of the great state of Massachusetts. After a while, though, I started to miss the old homestead. And that’s around the time I cooked up the whole casino idea. But when I came back I signed right on with the fire department again.” His disarming grin cracked her defenses again. “They missed me. No one can unfurl or roll up a hose as fast as me.”

“I’m sure they appreciate the help. But there don’t seem to be too many people around here.” They were driving through dark woods, not a house in sight. The area around the casino was very rural.

“Nope. That doesn’t seem to stop fires breaking out, though. Last week an abandoned barn caught fire out in the middle of nowhere. We had to pump water from an old ice pond to put it out. Could have set the whole woods on fire, especially right now when everything’s so dry.”

It was early summer. Not that she really noticed the changing seasons much from the inside of her pale gray cubicle.

As they continued driving, she could see the pearl-white moon flashing through black tree branches. The woods were beautiful at night.

“I think it’s nice that you find the time to volunteer when you’re so busy with the casino.” There. She’d said it. She’d been a little short with him this afternoon and now she felt bad about it.

“I enjoy it. I’d go crazy sitting behind a desk all the time. I like to have my hands on as many things as possible.”

One of those hands was resting on the wheel. For one breath-quickening instant she imagined it resting on her thigh.

She crossed her legs and jerked her gaze back to the moon, only to find it had disappeared behind the trees altogether. What was wrong with her? His hand was filthy from fighting the fire, for one thing. And she would rather die than let a business client touch her.

Not that he’d want to anyway. She’d seen the gossip-column pictures of him with all those glamorous women. A different one every week, from the looks of it. He’d hardly be interested in a frumpy accountant from Cleveland.

She let out a sharp exhale, then realized it was audible.

“Fires are stressful, but don’t worry too much. Everything you lost can be replaced. That’s the thing to remember.”

She turned to him, startled. She hadn’t even given a thought to all her burned-up stuff. Clearly she was losing her mind. “You’re so right. They were just things.”

They drove in silence for a minute.

“It’s a shame you missed Mariah Carey. She was awesome.” He turned and smiled.

“I’m sure she was.” She couldn’t help smiling back. Which was getting really annoying.

“What kind of music do you like?”

“I don’t really listen to music.” She shifted in her seat. Why did they have to talk about her?

“None?” She felt his curious gaze on her. “There must be some kind of music you like.”

She shrugged. “My dad didn’t allow most music in the house.”

“Now that’s a crime. Not even gospel music?”

“No. He thought singing was a waste of time.” She frowned. Gaining maturity had given her a perspective on her father’s views that made living in the house difficult. What was wrong with a little music? He thought even classical music was an enticement to sin and debauchery. Sometimes her friend Lynn drove them both to lunch and they listened to the radio on the way. She was surprised by how some tunes made her want to tap her toes.

She noticed with relief that they were pulling into the casino parking lot.

“So what did your family do for fun?”

Fun? They didn’t believe in fun. “We didn’t have too much time on our hands. They run a hardware store, so there’s always something to do.”

“I guess organizing rivets made accounting seem like an exciting escape.” He grinned at her.

She bristled with irritation, then realized he was right. “I suppose it did.” He pulled into a parking space in front of New Dawn, then jumped out of the car and managed to open her door before she even got her seat belt undone. There was no way to avoid taking his offered hand without being rude, and she didn’t want to be obnoxious since he was going out of his way to help her. But when she did, his palm pressed hotly against hers and made all kinds of weird sensations scatter through her body.

Get a grip on yourself! Mercifully he let go of her hand as they paused at a back door to the hotel block and he unlocked it with a key. She was grateful not to have to walk through the glittering lobby in her pj’s.

Then he put his arm around her shoulders.

Her skin tingled and heated through the thin fabric of her pajama top. What was he thinking? He was talking and she really couldn’t hear a word. He probably thought this was a warm and encouraging gesture for someone who’d been through a traumatic experience. He couldn’t have any idea that she hadn’t had a man’s arm around her in years and that the feeling of it was doing something very unsettling to her emotions.

His arm was big and heavy. He was so much taller than she that he simply draped it casually across her shoulders as if he was resting it. Then he squeezed her shoulders gently.

“Right?”

“What?” She had no idea what he’d just asked.

“You still seem kind of dazed, Constance. Are you sure you didn’t get concussed or something?” He paused and pulled his arm from around her shoulders so he could peer into her eyes. “You look all right, but these things can sneak up on you. Maybe we should call for the nurse. We have one on staff here, to look after any guests who need attention.” They were standing next to an elevator and he pressed the button.

“I’m fine, really! Just tired.” She spoke a bit too loudly, then peered imploringly up at the digital display, only to find that the elevator was three floors away.

“No problem.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and made a call. “Hi, Ramon. Is six seventy-five ready yet?” He nodded, then winked at her. Winked? It was probably just some friendly indication that the room was indeed ready. Her social skills were rather limited, since she only interacted with accountants. Still, it made her heart start racing as if she’d run a marathon.

She didn’t know why, either. Yes, he was handsome. Tall, dark, all the usual stuff. But right now she was tired and stressed out and if she was anywhere near as dirty as he was she must look very unattractive, so he certainly wasn’t flirting with her.

The elevator doors opened and she darted in and pressed the button for six. He strolled in after her. She focused her gaze on the numbers over the door as the elevator rose. He didn’t say a word, but his very presence seemed to hum. There was something...unnerving about him, something that made her hyperaware of his presence.

When the elevator doors opened, she leaped out and glanced about, trying to figure out which way to go. She jumped slightly when she felt his fingers in the hollow of her back.

“This way.” He guided her down the hallway. She walked as fast as she could and his fingers fell away, which made her sigh with relief. He didn’t mean anything by it; he probably didn’t even notice he was touching her. He was one of those overly friendly types who hugged everyone—she’d noticed that after the fire. All she had to do was get into her room, shower, get some sleep and she could deal with everything else in the morning.

He pulled a key card from his pocket and unlocked the door. The spacious hotel room beckoned her like an oasis—crisp white sheets, closed ivory curtains, soothing art with images of the countryside. “This looks amazing.”

“I’ll need to get your clothes from you so we can wash them.”

She glanced down. Her pj’s were smudged with soot. “I’m going to need some real clothes for tomorrow.”

“What size are you? I’ll have one of the girls find something for you.”

She swallowed. Telling John Fairweather her dress size seemed dangerously intimate. “I think I’m a six.” And what would he tell them to buy? “Something conservative, please. And I’ll pay for it, of course.”

He grinned. “Did you think I’d ask them to pick out something racy?”

“No, of course not.” Her cheeks heated. “You don’t know me well, that’s all.”

“I’m getting to know you. And I’m getting to like you, too. You stayed calm during the fire and were very helpful. You’d be surprised how many people lose their heads.”

She fought a burst of pride. “I’m a calm person. Very dull, in fact.”

His dark eyes peered into hers. “Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you’re not dull at all.”

Her mouth formed a silent oh. Silence—and something bigger—lingered in the air. Panic flickered in her chest. “I’d better get some sleep. I have a headache.” The lie would probably give her a forked tongue, but she was on edge and John Fairweather was not helping her sanity.

“Of course. You can leave your clothes outside the door. There’s a laundry bag in the closet.”

“Great.” She managed a polite smile, or was it a grimace? Her body sagged with relief as his big, broad-shouldered presence disappeared through the door and it closed quietly behind him.

* * *

Constance showered and washed her hair with rose-scented shampoo. The luxurious marble bathroom was well stocked with everything she needed, including a comb and a blow-dryer. She dressed in the soft terry robe with New Dawn embroidered in turquoise on the pocket. She’d put her dirty pajamas in a laundry bag outside the door for the hotel staff to pick up. Her briefcase had mercifully kept her laptop and important papers dry, so she’d emptied it and put it on a luggage rack to dry out. There was nothing more she could do for now. Hopefully she could relax enough to get some sleep.

But as soon as she laid her head on the cool, soft pillow, she heard a knock on the door. She sat up. “Coming.” It was very late for someone to knock. Maybe the hotel staff had a question about the bag she’d left outside the door. Or maybe they’d already found her something to wear tomorrow?

She took the latch off the door and opened it a crack...to reveal the large bulk of John Fairweather blocking the light from the hallway.

“I brought you some aspirin.” He held up a glass, then opened his other palm to reveal a tiny sachet of some painkiller that actually wasn’t aspirin at all.

“Oh.” She’d forgotten about her “headache.” With considerable reluctance, she opened the door wider. “That’s very kind of you.” She took the pills from his hand, making sure not to touch him.

“And I brought you some clothes from the gift shop downstairs. It’s lucky we’re open twenty-four hours.” She noticed a shiny bag under his arm.

“Thanks.” She reached out for it, only to find that he’d already walked past her into the room. She shook her head and tried not to smile. He wasn’t shy, that’s for sure. Of course, it was his hotel.

“Did you find everything you need?” He put the bag down on the desk and turned to her with his hands on his hips. “It’s not too late for room service. There’s someone in the kitchen all night.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

John had also showered and changed. He wore dark athletic pants and a clean white T-shirt that had creases as if it was right out of the package, except that the creases were now being stretched out by the thick muscles of his broad chest. His dark hair was wet and slicked back, emphasizing his bold features and those penetrating eyes.

She blinked and headed for the shopping bag. Before she got there, he picked up the bag and reached into it himself. He pulled out a blue wrap dress with long sleeves. It looked like something she’d wear to a cocktail party. “We don’t really have office attire in the guest shop.”

“It’s lovely and very kind of you to bring it.” Now please leave.

“And we found some sandals that almost match.” He pulled out a pair of dark blue glittery sandals and looked at her with a wry grin. “Not exactly the right look for the office, but better than being barefoot, right?”

She had to laugh. “My boss would have a heart attack.”

“We won’t tell him.”

“It’s a her.”

“We won’t tell her, either.” He looked at her for a moment, eyes twinkling, then frowned slightly. “You look totally different with your hair down.”

Her hands flew to her hair. At least she’d blow-dried it. “I know. I don’t ever wear it down.”

“Why not? It’s pretty. You’re pretty.”

She blinked. This was totally unprofessional. Of course, nothing about this situation was professional. She was standing here in her bathrobe—in his bathrobe—in his hotel that she’d explicitly said she wouldn’t stay in. And now he was giving her gratuitous compliments? “Thanks.”

She felt that stupid smile creeping over her mouth again. Why did this man have such an effect on her? Think about computational volatility in Excel spreadsheets. Imagine him cheating on his taxes. Imagine him...

Her imagination failed her as his mouth lowered hotly over hers.

Heat rushed through her, to her fingers, which were suddenly on the soft cotton of his T-shirt. She felt his hands on her back, his touch light and tender. His tongue met hers, sending a jolt of electricity to her toes. Oh, goodness. What was happening? Her brain wouldn’t form thoughts at all, but her mouth had no trouble responding to his.

The stubble on his chin scratched her skin slightly as the kiss deepened. His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in their embrace. As her chest bumped against his, her nipples were pressed into the rough texture of the bathrobe and sensation crashed through her. She dug her fingers into the roping muscle of his back, plucking at his T-shirt as their mouths moved together.

A humming sound startled them both and they broke the kiss. “My phone,” he murmured, low. He didn’t reach for it. Still frowning slightly, he raised a thumb and smoothed a strand of hair from Constance’s cheek.

She blinked, wondering what had just happened. And why? “I really must...” She wasn’t even sure what she really must do. Go to bed? Take a cold shower? Throw herself out the window? Heat darted through her body, and she didn’t know how much longer her knees would hold her up without his strong arms around her.

“Take your aspirin. I’ll see you in the morning.” He hesitated, phone still vibrating in his pocket. An expression of confusion crossed his face and he shoved a hand through his wet hair. “I’ll call a local dealership about replacing your car keys first thing.”

“Thanks.” The word was barely audible, but it was a miracle she managed to force it out at all. He walked backward a couple of steps, gaze still riveted on hers, before he nodded a goodbye and strode to the door.

As it slid quietly shut behind him, she stood there, mouth open, knees still trembling. Had he really just kissed her? It didn’t seem possible. Maybe she’d imagined it. In fact, maybe she’d dreamed up this whole crazy scenario while sleeping fitfully in her lumpy bed at the Cozy Suites Motel. A fire and a kiss in one night? Impossible.

She pinched herself and it hurt. That wasn’t good. Maybe she should throw herself out the window. A desire to gulp in cool night air made her hurry to it, but it was one of those big modern ones that didn’t open.

Probably a good thing. She looked out and could see nothing but dark woods barely illuminated by a cloud-shrouded moon.

She’d grabbed him, fisting her hands into his T-shirt, and clawed at his back. Had she totally lost her mind? Her breath came in heaving gasps and blood pounded in her veins.

It had been a very long time since she’d kissed anybody. Since anyone had kissed her, or even shown the slightest interest in doing so. Her one and only boyfriend, Phil, had broken up with her right before they graduated from college. Four years together, sustained by promises of marriage and family and happily ever after, and he’d simply told her that he wasn’t ready and he was moving to Seattle without her. Her parents would die—or they’d kill her, or both—if they knew she’d given Phil her virginity outside the sanctity of marriage. They’d blame her for throwing herself away and point out that of course he wouldn’t want to marry a woman like that.

The pain and shame of it all was achingly fresh even after six years, so she tried not to think about it.

And now something like this? She could taste John’s lips on hers, his tongue winding with hers, and the memory made her heart pulse harder. She couldn’t even blame him. She couldn’t swear that he’d even started the kiss. It had just happened. And it had happened all over her body, which now hummed and throbbed with all kinds of unfamiliar and disturbing sensations.

She’d lost her clothes, her car keys and now her mind. How would she ever get to sleep now?