“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