Just Surrender.... Kathleen O'ReillyЧитать онлайн книгу.
that should be fixed.”
They were goodbye words. Two strangers who would be going their own way. Being something of an expert in these words, Edie knew them when she heard them. Nervously she met his eyes, although she didn’t know why she was nervous. She was never nervous, never without a smartass reply, never unable to breathe.
Tyler frowned at her, not so nervous, not so breathless, and yes, there were smartass tendencies within him as well, but they were disgustingly repressed. As such, she had no right to feel the sense of loss inside her.
“Edie?”
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Go back to the apartment.”
He cocked his head, studying her intently. “You’re not going to pick up some guy, are you?”
She couldn’t help but laugh because he took everything so seriously.
“Nah. I was just kidding….” she started to explain, but her voice trailed off when she noticed the very real question in his eyes. Suddenly she wasn’t feeling so non-serious anymore. In fact, the pitch in her stomach was downright serious.
A car drove by, honking at her poor parking job, but the sound was foggy and far away. Her whole world seemed foggy and far away because of the sudden pornification of her previously PG-rated brain. Now she only had thoughts of naked flesh and Windsor knots tied in untraditional locations.
Her nerves began to itch and heat in untraditional locations, as well.
“You’ll be okay?” she repeated stupidly, needing to stick with easy words, and not the intricate visuals that were spinning in her head. Two bodies. Joined. Entwined. Not alone.
Tyler looked at her, disappointed. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
No, she wasn’t worrying about him, she was wondering about him. Right now, she wondered about how his mouth would feel against hers. She wondered about the feel of his body shuddering above her, inside her. It was an intense sort of wonder, a liquid sort of wonder. Impulsively Edie pushed aside her goodbye words and found hello words instead. It was easier than she had expected.
“I’m not worried. A lot,” she said with her best cheeky grin, which was usually termed irresistible by males and females and crotchety landlords. The man was going to be toast. “But you know, it’s New York, and there are all sorts of people out there. Bad people. People that will take advantage of you. They’ll milk the cab fares, make you change tires, kidnap you rather than let you go home. It’s a rotten city.”
“I thought you loved the city.”
She lifted her shoulders, taking in the way his eyes rested on her chest, clearly noticing the way her nipples had perked up in response. “Well, sure, I love the city, but I’m tough. I know what’s what. You’re a—a city virgin.”
It was awkward and stupid, and the most idiotic-sounding sexual come-on that she’d ever uttered.
“Not a city virgin anymore,” he remarked, equally awkward-sounding, but his eyes weren’t awkward, or stupid. They were pulling her into dark, sexy places. Places that Windsor knots shouldn’t know about.
“So, uh, what if somebody else comes along, and wants to take advantage of your generous nature and your tenderhearted Texas ways?”
His mouth curved up, not so tenderhearted. Some of the arrogance was back, but she didn’t mind it. Much. “Maybe I’d let them,” he told her, his voice pitching low, right along with her stomach. Again.
“See? What did I tell you? You’ve just proved my point here.”
“What are you going to do now?” he asked again.
The first rays of dawn were reflecting off the windows, the rain made everything smell fresh and new and the city was coming alive. It was contagious, infectious, and she knew that she wasn’t going home. Not yet.
“Now? I think I’m going to pick up somebody,” she told him, lightheaded and giddy, pleased with the dawning life in his eyes, not so lonely anymore.
Tyler’s suitcase landed on the sidewalk with a loud thud. “What if he’s a criminal?”
“I can read his eyes,” Edie answered, sure and certain. She still didn’t believe in one-night stands, but if she worked very hard, she could convince herself that staying with him, laying with him, making love with him was in his best interest. The ultimate pick-me-up, in a literal sense.
“What about his eyes?”
Edie glanced over at the X-rated doors and then shook her head because there were some lies that she wouldn’t perpetuate. This was one. “He belongs in the Hilton, not the Belvedere.”
Undeterred, Mr. Hilton touched a finger to her mouth, sending the touch of a thousand silk feathers trickling down her spine. For the first time, Edie considered the idea that she might have misjudged him.
Nah.
Before her world completely tilted out of control, Edie picked up his suitcase and they fought over it all the way inside.
4
THEY HAD GIVEN HIS ROOM away and the next one wouldn’t be ready for another three hours.
For Dr. Tyler Hart, it was the clot that burst his brain. All night, he had been so well-behaved, so thoughtful, so deserving of a single shining moment in time where the world recognized that he was not some bit of garbage that was stuck on someone’s shoe.
But did the Belvedere Hotel give one good goddamn about Dr. Tyler Hart?
No. To the stuck-up clerk at the front desk, he was just another pervert needing to get his rocks off, and yes, that was true, but there were many other phrases that could have been used. Better phrases. Less demeaning phrases.
In the end, Edie grabbed his bag, grabbed his hand and they were directed to the empty bar, which didn’t serve alcohol until noon because of some antiquated liquor laws. In New York.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, apologizing for the eightieth time. “I’d offer my place, but the exterminator is scheduled today.”
“It’s probably for the best,” he assured her, trying to make her feel better, trying to make him seem not so much the world’s biggest rebounding cad, which unfortunately, wasn’t a far cry from the truth.
“Probably,” she agreed, which immediately ticked him off because goddamn it, he was a prize. He was a sexual stud. And perhaps, perhaps, he might be deficient in the romance quotient, but didn’t saving lives on a thrice-weekly schedule count for something?
Oh, yeah. Not to her.
She must have noticed the frustration in his eyes, which wasn’t his intent by the way, because she took his hand and rubbed her thumb along his palm. “I would have loved to have had sex with you.”
She used the past tense. “Thank you,” he answered politely, fighting the urge to drop down on his knees and beg. God, he needed sleep. No, he needed sex.
“I could wait around until the room is ready….”
“No—” He thrust his hands through his hair, and clunked his head down on the table, hoping he hadn’t just concussed himself.
“We could find another hotel,” she offered.
“No. There comes a time when you have to throw in the towel,” he said, feeling the cold wood against his cheek. Then, Dr. Tyler Hart, the man who never gave up, fell into a much-needed, dreamless, sexless sleep.
WITH TYLER CONKED OUT, Edie parked the cab properly, bought a cup of coffee and then returned to the bar to watch him sleep. Gently, her fingers stroked his hair—only once—and she was pleased to see how soft it was, how the strands didn’t conform to one direction or another.