“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him, turning her head toward him. “Besides, it will be a madhouse for you to get in and out of the downtown Decatur area with all of the Valentine’s Day and normal rush hour traffic, and on a Friday at that.”
“I promised Megan to make sure you were fine.” His gaze rested on her as she peered at him through the slits of her eyes. “You can barely keep your eyes open as it is.”
She sat all the way up and opened her eyes wide, shooting him a glare. “I’m fine. I just need to go to sleep.”
“Exactly, and you want to take the bus. Ha! You’d fall asleep and wake up hours later with all of your valuables missing. I’m taking you home.” He pushed a button on his navigation system. “Type in your address and then lay the seat back and get some rest.”
Clearly, she wasn’t going to win this argument, and she wasn’t surprised. She’d seen him in action in the courtroom plenty of times. While she may have not always agreed with the outcome, Bryce had always led a very convincing argument.
She typed in her address and pushed the button on the side of the seat to recline it back. “Fine, but only so my sister won’t worry.” She slid her shades from the top of hair over her eyes and then closed them as she sighed.
Thirty minutes later, Sydney awoke to him shaking her lightly. She opened her eyes to see her Craftsman-style house in front of her and was relieved to be home. Now she could finally take a shower and scrub his scent off her despite the fact that she actually liked the woodsy fragrance.
“Thank you again. I’ll let Megan know I’m home.”
“You’re welcome.” He got out and trekked around the car to open her door.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
“No problem.” He opened the back door and grabbed a bouquet of a dozen red roses, handing them to her. “While you were snoring, I bought these from a man off of the exit ramp. They were his last bunch. Didn’t want the brother out there for too long. It’s getting cold out here. So happy Valentine’s Day,” he said with a smirk.
She inhaled the light fragrance of the petals and rested her eyes on him. “Thank you for the roses, but I don’t snore,” she said, shaking her head and raking her eyes over him in disdainment.
He choked out a laugh. “Um...like hell you don’t. You were calling hogs, cows and sheep. But in your defense, I know you’ve had a long, exhausting week.”
He stepped around to his trunk and pulled out a gym bag. Sydney tilted her head as he began to walk alongside her to the porch.
“You have any dogs?” he asked as she unlocked the red door that Megan had insisted on selecting when she’d remodeled the 1920s bungalow into an updated contemporary-designed home in an upcoming neighborhood outside of Atlanta. Megan and her associates at Chase and Whitmore Designs remodeled Sydney’s home last summer for a segment on Megan’s decorating show, The Best Decorated Homes.
“Um...no. No pets,” she said, setting her boot halfway inside the foyer while the rest of her body remained on the porch. “Thank you again.”
Raising an eyebrow, he swished his mouth to one side. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
She pushed the door and opened the alarm panel on the wall to stop the aggravating beeping. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“No. Dr. Smith said you need someone to watch over you for the next twelve hours, and I told him I would.”
“Wh...wait.” She glanced at her watch. It was six-thirty. Was he going to spend the night? “That won’t be necessary.”
“Even though your CT scans were fine, you just never know. You could faint again, bump your head and then Megan will kill me for leaving you alone.”
A devilish grin formed as she glared up at his six-foot-two frame. “Mmm...” She nodded with a smirk.
“Don’t get any ideas, woman.”
“Darn it. And to think I was going to fake a swoon.”
“Swoon? I take it you watch classic movies and read books like Little Women and Pride and Prejudice,” he said, raising a curious eyebrow.
“Yep, and tonight we’re watching Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant movies until I fall asleep.”
“Then I’ll be asleep before you,” he mumbled.
She faced him, hands on hips with pursed lips. “You’re more than welcome to leave.”
“Nope. We’ll watch your girlie chick flicks. Even though personally I thought you were more into movies like Bad Boys and Beverly Hills Cop.”
“I am, but sometimes I need to escape from my real life and watch something out of my norm like Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“I’ve seen it once with my mom years ago. It’s her favorite movie and store. Dad buys her something from there all the time. In fact, so do I,” he told her matter-of-factly. “Usually for Mother’s Day.”
For a moment, she’d forgotten about his rich-boy lifestyle. For just a moment, he was a regular guy, not a millionaire standing on her hardwood floor in her 1,500-square-foot house, wearing an Armani suit and a Ralph Lauren trench coat. Not to mention a watch that probably cost three times more than her yearly salary.
He stared at her intently and stepped closer. She thought surely he was going to kiss her again, but instead, the fire in his eyes was erased, and a relaxed, lazy smile appeared on his face. “I kinda like Cary Grant. He had a certain cool swagger to him.”
Bryce tossed his bag on the floor and pulled his overcoat closer to his body. She hadn’t been home in almost two days, and she’d forgotten to leave on the heat. Sydney moved to the panel on the opposite wall and slid the thermostat into the on position, setting the heat to a comfortable temperature.
He followed her through the foyer to the living area, and she noticed her mail in a basket on the coffee table. Apparently, the cleaning lady had come that morning, as she always did on Fridays. She sat the roses next to the mail. She’d have to tend to both later. Right now she needed to be alone. Away from him.
“The guestroom is through there.” She pointed to a door adjacent to the living area. “It has a full bathroom, and the kitchen is the next room over. Look on the fridge and call the pizza joint around the corner. They will deliver. Put your car in the garage. It’s going to be below forty degrees, and I doubt your Benz has ever slept outside. I’m going to take a shower.”
Sydney trekked away from him, straight down the hallway on the other side of the living area that led to her office and the master bedroom. She closed the door to her room, flicked on the light switch, threw off her clothes and left them where they’d landed. Grabbing her cordless phone from her nightstand, she dialed her twin’s cell phone number.
Megan picked up on the first ring. “Are you home?” she asked with a hurried anxiousness.
“Yes, and thanks to you I have company.” Sydney yanked the shower curtain back and turned on the faucet.
“Bryce?” Megan asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes, Bryce,” she whispered into the phone. “The man I can’t stand is staying here tonight because the doctor said I needed to be watched over for the next twelve hours just in case I have a minor concussion. Even though I don’t.” Sydney opened the linen closet and snatched a towel and washcloth from the stack. She glanced at her reflection in the vanity mirror to see a condescending expression on her face. Goodness. Is this how I’ve been looking at him?
“Oh...”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say? While I’m happy you didn’t call Mom