When Good Things Happen To Bad Boys. Lori FosterЧитать онлайн книгу.
curled tighter, half laughing at herself, half moaning in tortured agony. She’d actually done that, screamed like a raving lunatic and ordered him out of his own office. Wearing no more than a sheet. Waiting for him to…
No! No, no, no. She was not going to keep thinking about it.
So she’d screamed. Big deal. Under the circumstances, screaming seemed a reasonable, perfectly understandable reaction to discovering his true identity.
Oh why oh why did he have to do that for a living? And why, out of all the docs in town, did she make an appointment at that one particular office? Once again, fate had dealt her a raw deal. She and fate were now on very bad terms.
There were no answers to the questions she’d already asked herself over and over again. She shoved back the sheet and padded barefoot toward the fridge to put the ice cream away before it melted. Halfway to her kitchenette, a knock sounded on her door. Never mind that it was Friday night. Never mind that she was a single woman at a very dateable age. She never got company, and she didn’t want any now. She continued on and shoved the ice cream into the freezer.
But ignoring her unwelcome visitor did no good because the knock came again and again until she stomped across the floor and flung the door open.
A potent, dark brown gaze captured her. “Hello.”
She actually stumbled back a step before forging forward again. “You!”
He leaned one shoulder on the doorframe and casually—like she wouldn’t notice—stuck his big, booted foot in the doorway so she couldn’t slam it on his handsome face.
“Yeah, me.” He gave her a quick once-over, frowning at her braids before meeting her gaze with a look of accusation. “You left without saying good-bye.”
Libby blinked at him in disbelief. He came to her dinky apartment because he felt slighted? What a buffoon.
What a sexy hunk of a buffoon.
She’d seen him at the party wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and at his office wearing the clichéd white coat and casual tie. Now he wore an ancient T-shirt with a football logo on the front and broken in, faded jeans that looked soft, comfortable, and casual.
No matter what he wore, he looked too delicious for words. “Trust me,” she told him, ignoring his inviting appearance, “I was hardly in the mood for friendly conversation.”
He looked her over again, slower this time, lingering in impolite places and making her wish she wore sweats and a thick housecoat. Suddenly he realized he was doing it and snapped his attention back to her face. “May I come in?”
“No. Anything else?”
His long, drawn out sigh fanned her face. “Could I at least apologize?”
Her eyes narrowed. “For what?”
Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, for making you scream.” And in a lower, sincere voice, “I’m sorry you were embarrassed. If it’s any consolation, I was plenty shocked, too.”
No consolation at all. “You weren’t naked and on a table.”
“No.” His mouth twitched. “But I’m a doctor. A professional. Despite our…association, I would have—”
Libby drilled his hard chest with her finger. “Not in this lifetime, bud.”
A smile brought out golden lights in his dark eyes. “I understand. Again, I apologize. Now please, let me in. I want to talk to you.”
“Are you done apologizing?”
Wary, he said, “No?”
“You don’t know?”
He huffed. “All right. I’m sorry for calling you a baby, too. Obviously, despite the odd braids in your hair, you’re a mature young lady. But you are young and it threw me. I figured you to be much older.”
“Ignore the braids. I was bored. But on the inside, where it counts, I’m an old lady.”
He didn’t look like he believed her. “I haven’t been with anyone your age since I was eighteen.”
Exasperation exploded from her. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. You’re saying you’re into older women?”
“Experienced women,” he clarified. “Because I accept who and what I am—”
“And that is?”
“Not a conversation for your hallway.” He stiffened, put out and fed up. “Now let me in.”
Libby examined a fingernail. “You were apologizing?” she prompted.
Seconds ticked by while tension thickened in the air. “All right. I’m also sorry that I…well…”
“Left me hanging?” she offered, her temper flaring again at the awful memory. “Gave me a bite, but not the whole meal? Led me on? Implied false promises? Made—”
He bent and kissed her, hard and fast. “I get the point,” he growled, “and yes, I’m sorry for that, too.”
Libby went mute. Even that, a smacking kiss that lasted less than a nanosecond, and she was ready to invite him in.
Still leaning far too close to her mouth, he said, “It was a first for me, and it’s plagued me ever since.”
Libby licked her lips, and because he was close, she tasted his lips, as well. “Plagued you how?”
He stepped in, crowding her back with his big body and closing the door behind him. He smelled good, like aftershave and fresh air and hot male. His wind-rumpled hair made her fingers itch to touch it. His five o’clock shadow made her skin tingle, imagining how it’d feel.
He stared at her, filling her with the swelling warmth she remembered oh so well.
“In every way known to man.” He leaned back on the door, his gaze level, probing, saying more than his words could. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened if I hadn’t blundered so badly. And most of all, I can’t stop thinking about how nice it likely would have been to make love to you.”
“Oh.” So maybe they were finally on the same track.
His hands closed over her shoulders, slowly dragging her closer. “And on that note…I’d like to help if I can.”
Four
Damn, she was sweet, Axel thought, watching the way her thick eyelashes lowered over her blue eyes and her lips parted. Sweet and so damn ready. He’d never tortured himself before. It sucked. But he felt a vested interest in her now. In a way, he’d gotten things started and now he felt compelled to involve himself further. He owed her that much.
The feeling was odd because, other than sexual satisfaction, he’d never really felt he owed a woman before. He stuck with experienced women who knew the score and wanted no more than he offered. He avoided virgins and young hopefuls, and kept a clear conscience because of it.
But not this time.
Libby slowly went on tiptoes, putting her mouth level with his. She clasped her hands around his neck and in a husky, take me voice, said, “What do you suggest?”
Oh, he had suggestions, all right.
No. Get a grip, Axel.
He caught her elbows and moved her back, putting some necessary space between them. That spontaneous kiss he’d planted on her mulish mouth was unfortunate. Sure, it had shut her up real quick, but it also gave her the wrong idea.
“As I started to say earlier, I know who and what I am.”
“So enlighten me.”
He intended to. “I’m a man who enjoys his freedom, a man who takes his job seriously, but not much else, including commitment.