Lizabeth, as if this was her expedition.
“No.” Last
thing she wanted was Reid knowing where she lived. “That’s not a good idea.”
The
girls started scrambling into the SUV, Lizabeth snagging shotgun. Reid stood
apart, watching Zarley with that intense stare.
She
bounced her bag, pulled the strap higher onto her shoulder. “Why are you doing
this?”
“I was
hoping to show you I wasn’t a threat. That I didn’t want anything from you. I
didn’t intend to be inappropriate.”
There
was a shriek of laughter from the SUV, followed by a rumble of male protestation
and a blast of music, and then the rain started.
Zarley
pulled the hood of her jacket up. “I think they’ve got inappropriate covered. Thank
you again for the flowers. Goodnight.”
“Please
let me drop you somewhere. I won’t look. You can blindfold me.”
She
took a breath, he really was a good-looking guy, and not drunk, not sick, he
was so much more appealing, so the idea of him in a blindfold, at her mercy,
hmm. “You won’t look?” She glanced at her trainers, splashed with rain. It was
ridiculous.
“You know
where I live,” he said with an indignant huff.
She
looked him up and down and failed at making the gesture snarky like Melinda
had. He was tall, lean, with wide shoulders and a stance that said go around me
I’m not moving. “You don’t think you’re safe from me?”
He lowered
his chin. “I’m not the one who went all Black Widow in the alley.”
She
laughed. She couldn’t help it. Reid kept smiling and they were both getting wet.
He
pushed dark hair away from his face. “The way out of this is to let me buy you supper,
breakfast, coffee, whatever.”
She’d
had worse offers, from less interesting men. And he really had bent himself
into a pretzel over this.
“Come
on, Lux. You don’t ever have to see me again after this.”
“Promise?”
He’d better keep that promise, because liking him might become a problem.
He put
a large spread hand to his chest. “Cross my pickled heart.”
He did
have a sense of humor.
She got
in the SUV and Reid squished in beside her, his thigh aligned with hers, his
arm over the back of the seat to make more room. Her shoulder was wedged
against his chest and it didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. She thought about
him wearing a blindfold all the way to the diner, and she dried her rain-wet
clothes from the inside out.
SEVEN
Reid didn’t have to say much, the place was buzzing, the women kept
up the chatter, the food was good, and he was genuinely hungry for the first
time since he’d been sick. He sat between Vi and Lavinia. Cinnamon and the new
dancer, Tiffany, the one who’d cried on stage, were opposite him with Lux
between them. It was clear they didn’t want him to have their real names. It
was equally clear he was only here as their wallet.
He
tried not to stare at Lux, which logically should’ve been easier than when
she’d stood in front of him wearing not much at all, but he’d felt the warmth
of her body from rib to hip and all along his thigh in the car and there was no
getting away from the fact his obsession with her had exploded into full-scale ambition.
She had
a gray hoodie on with jeans, not a lick of makeup on her face. It was
positively church on Sunday in comparison to her usual look. The only skin she
showed was at her face, neck and hands, but still he did a slack job schooling
his eyes, and then she unzipped her hoodie and revealed a scoop-neck tank and
he gave up trying not to look at her.
He
liked looking at her no matter what she wore, and what did it matter? This
wasn’t work, he didn’t have to hold himself apart. The women knew he’d sent the
flowers, and had been a dickhead in the alley, and he’d keep his promise, thwart
his own ambition, and never see Lux again after he sent everyone home in the
car.
The one
mystery, if he put aside the overwhelming desire to know what Lux’s skin felt
like under his palm, what it
“No.” Last
thing she wanted was Reid knowing where she lived. “That’s not a good idea.”
The
girls started scrambling into the SUV, Lizabeth snagging shotgun. Reid stood
apart, watching Zarley with that intense stare.
She
bounced her bag, pulled the strap higher onto her shoulder. “Why are you doing
this?”
“I was
hoping to show you I wasn’t a threat. That I didn’t want anything from you. I
didn’t intend to be inappropriate.”
There
was a shriek of laughter from the SUV, followed by a rumble of male protestation
and a blast of music, and then the rain started.
Zarley
pulled the hood of her jacket up. “I think they’ve got inappropriate covered. Thank
you again for the flowers. Goodnight.”
“Please
let me drop you somewhere. I won’t look. You can blindfold me.”
She
took a breath, he really was a good-looking guy, and not drunk, not sick, he
was so much more appealing, so the idea of him in a blindfold, at her mercy,
hmm. “You won’t look?” She glanced at her trainers, splashed with rain. It was
ridiculous.
“You know
where I live,” he said with an indignant huff.
She
looked him up and down and failed at making the gesture snarky like Melinda
had. He was tall, lean, with wide shoulders and a stance that said go around me
I’m not moving. “You don’t think you’re safe from me?”
He lowered
his chin. “I’m not the one who went all Black Widow in the alley.”
She
laughed. She couldn’t help it. Reid kept smiling and they were both getting wet.
He
pushed dark hair away from his face. “The way out of this is to let me buy you supper,
breakfast, coffee, whatever.”
She’d
had worse offers, from less interesting men. And he really had bent himself
into a pretzel over this.
“Come
on, Lux. You don’t ever have to see me again after this.”
“Promise?”
He’d better keep that promise, because liking him might become a problem.
He put
a large spread hand to his chest. “Cross my pickled heart.”
He did
have a sense of humor.
She got
in the SUV and Reid squished in beside her, his thigh aligned with hers, his
arm over the back of the seat to make more room. Her shoulder was wedged
against his chest and it didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. She thought about
him wearing a blindfold all the way to the diner, and she dried her rain-wet
clothes from the inside out.
SEVEN
Reid didn’t have to say much, the place was buzzing, the women kept
up the chatter, the food was good, and he was genuinely hungry for the first
time since he’d been sick. He sat between Vi and Lavinia. Cinnamon and the new
dancer, Tiffany, the one who’d cried on stage, were opposite him with Lux
between them. It was clear they didn’t want him to have their real names. It
was equally clear he was only here as their wallet.
He
tried not to stare at Lux, which logically should’ve been easier than when
she’d stood in front of him wearing not much at all, but he’d felt the warmth
of her body from rib to hip and all along his thigh in the car and there was no
getting away from the fact his obsession with her had exploded into full-scale ambition.
She had
a gray hoodie on with jeans, not a lick of makeup on her face. It was
positively church on Sunday in comparison to her usual look. The only skin she
showed was at her face, neck and hands, but still he did a slack job schooling
his eyes, and then she unzipped her hoodie and revealed a scoop-neck tank and
he gave up trying not to look at her.
He
liked looking at her no matter what she wore, and what did it matter? This
wasn’t work, he didn’t have to hold himself apart. The women knew he’d sent the
flowers, and had been a dickhead in the alley, and he’d keep his promise, thwart
his own ambition, and never see Lux again after he sent everyone home in the
car.
The one
mystery, if he put aside the overwhelming desire to know what Lux’s skin felt
like under his palm, what it
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