Footloose. Leanne BanksЧитать онлайн книгу.
“I remember,” she said. “And I’m—”
“Amelia,” he said before she could. His grin widened.
She hesitated a half-beat. She didn’t really know him. However, if he hadn’t taken advantage of her during her hurricane night, then he was probably okay. There had been the kiss, she reminded herself. But that had just been a kiss. A really really hot kiss, but…
She shook her head at her stupid debate. If she spent the afternoon with Jack, she wouldn’t have to dream up twenty more things to do today. “Thanks. That sounds good.”
He laughed. “Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”
“Oh, yeah. Where?”
“Key West. Sundown party at Mallory Square.”
“I’ve never been to one of those,” she said, feeling a ping of anticipation.
“We can change that,” he said, lifting his cup. The way he looked at her over its rim made something inside her give a little jump, which surprised her. So maybe she wasn’t dead after all.
Another employee showed up after thirty minutes, so Amelia turned in her coffee pot and water pitcher. The owner thanked her effusively and promised future lunches on the house.
Resisting the urge to return to the Bellagio estate to change clothes, Amelia freshened up in the restaurant’s powder room. The humidity had her hair sticking out in twenty different directions. Without her flat iron, she would have to go au natural with her hair, which scared the poo out of her. Amelia had ironed her hair into submission for so long she didn’t really know what it would looked like if she let it go free.
Sighing, she shook her head. It wasn’t as if she was trying to impress anyone. She just wanted to fill some free time.
Jack tossed a few bills on the table and stood as she walked toward him. “Ready to go?”
She nodded and put on her sunglasses as she followed him to the small parking lot.
He stopped at a black Porsche and pulled a cap out of the back. “You might want to wear this. You look like you could burn in five minutes with the top down.”
“Try three,” she said wryly. “I don’t remember this car.”
He chuckled and opened the door for her. “I’m not sure you were in a condition to remember much of anything. The car belongs to a friend of mine. When I visit, he lets me stay at his place and use his wheels.”
“Nice friend,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Yep.”
“Where are you visiting from?”
“Chicago, right now.”
A roamer, she concluded. It didn’t surprise her. He looked like the kind to travel light. If she’d been looking for a keeper, that would have put her off, but she wasn’t so it didn’t bother her.
“What do you do?” she asked. “For a living.”
He shot her a smile that reminded her of a shark. “Whatever’s profitable,” he said, revealing nothing.
“Legal?” she pressed, because she had her limits.
“Clean as a whistle,” he said, but his silence made her think he didn’t teach kindergarten. He started the engine and backed out of the parking space.
“So, how’s it been working for Bellagio’s grande dame? She finally let you out of the cellar?” he said.
“Pushed me out,” Amelia muttered. “She’s not as bad as—” She broke off, remembering how Lillian had insisted she wanted to maintain her reputation. “She’s quite a woman.”
“Quite a woman,” Jack echoed. “She’s either won you over or you’re being politely vague.”
“Sort of like ‘whatever’s profitable,’” she shot back.
He glanced at her in surprise and looked back at the road, smiling. “So the sweet Georgia peach has been hiding a little kick.”
Amelia hadn’t really thought about having a kick. She’d pretty much relied on Will for most of the kicking. She adjusted her cap. “Who knew?”
“How long did you say you dated your ex?”
She winced, wondering how much she’d revealed during that night of too many hurricanes. “A long time,” she said vaguely.
“Wasn’t it twelve or thirteen years?”
“Nice of you to remind me.”
He shook his head. “I bet you’re just starting to find out who you are.”
His insight surprised her. “Maybe, but one of the things I’ve learned is that I don’t like to talk about myself.”
“Unless you’ve had a few hurricanes,” he said.
“A gentleman wouldn’t continue to bring that up.”
“I’m not that kind of a gentleman,” he told her cheerfully.
“You were the other night when I was—”
“Smashed,” he finished for her. “One-time thing. Everyone lives by their own set of rules. One of mine is to maximize whatever gets thrown at you. I’m a bastard.”
Amelia digested that. He was an odd mix. He seemed laid-back. And not. She couldn’t tell if he was a con man or a mooch. “Does that mean I shouldn’t count on you if I drink too many hurricanes again?”
“I would get you home, but we might take a side-trip first,” he said in a breezy voice with just a hint of sexy undertone.
Her stomach tightened at the warning. She looked at his large hands, one on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift. The wind ruffled his dark hair and whipped at his shirt. His shoulders were broad and his pecs and biceps bulged from some kind of exercise. His abdomen was flat, his legs long. His thighs looked strong. Her gaze strayed higher and she looked away, embarrassed at the direction of her thoughts.
He was a hottie, so why had he approached her? She couldn’t squelch her curiosity.
“There were at least a half-dozen females at that tiki bar who looked available and very attractive,” she said. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t approach them.” She paused. “Or maybe you did, and I just didn’t notice.”
He laughed. “No. I told you before that I approached you because you were the most interesting looking woman in the room.”
Interesting looking. She narrowed her eyes. That could be a compliment. Or not. “Is that like ‘quite a woman’?”
“No. You didn’t look like the rest of the women there.”
“They were tanned, beautiful and very thin,” she said stiffly.
“You looked real and pretty. And I wondered what you were writing on that napkin.”
“Well, now you know. The list,” she said.
He nodded. “Have you added to it?”
“No,” she said, feeling guilty and wimpy.
“Maybe you need a jump-start.”
Amelia adjusted her sunglasses and felt another little leap of nerves in her belly. She suspected Jack wasn’t the kind of man to provide just a little jump-start. He seemed more like a walking detonator. “Maybe,” she said tentatively.
“I could make a lot of suggestions,” he said in a wry, sexy tone. “But this is more about what you want. So, what do you want, Magnolia?”
Magnolia? She paused for a long moment and sighed. “That’s part of the problem. I