Some Girls Do (17 page)

I have something for you.
Sinking to sit on the floor again, she thought about how those words would have been music to her ears if she didn't feel so awful.

“Open up,” he told her.

“That's okay. I'd rather ride out the misery alone if that's okay with you.”

“It's not,” Doug said. “Since you're staying in my home, you're my responsibility.”

She blinked as he jiggled the doorknob. “No, you really don't—”

“Hope you're decent,” he said and pushed open the door. Surprise rushed through her almost overriding her nausea. “I thought that door was locked.”

“It was, but it's got a lousy lock. Here,” he said, extending a damp washcloth toward her. “'Put this on your face and you'll feel better.”

Too weak to protest, she draped the washcloth over her forehead and cheeks. The cooling sensation soothed her. When her skin warmed the washcloth, she flipped it over and sighed. She couldn't ignore that it had been a nice thing to do, especially when she felt so stupid for overindulging.

“I don't usually drink too much,” she told Doug, still too embarrassed to look at him.

“I got that impression,” he said, swiping the wash cloth from her and putting it under the running faucet. “You want to lay down?”

“I'll get up in a couple of minutes.” The room was still spinning and she didn't want to risk it.

“I can help you.”

She shook her head, then stopped because the movement caused unbearable pain. “That's not necessary. Not really. Not—”

She broke off in surprise when she felt him lift her from the floor and cradle her against his chest. Her racing pulse warred with her nausea. “Do you ever take no for an answer?”

He looked at her with an inscrutable expression. “Only when it's really important,” he said, and lowered her to the bed, then placed the washcloth on her forehead. He left for a moment, then she heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor of the bedroom and a click followed by the winning sound of a fan. She took a deep breath and willed herself to relax.

After she was sure she wouldn't need to dash for the bath room again, she lifted a corner of the washcloth and looked at him. “Thank you. You've been very nice to me.”

He nodded, standing with his hands on hips. “No problem.”

She continued to stare at him, wondering about his motives. “Why?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why what?”

“Why have you been so nice to me?”

Shrugging, he shoved his fists into his pockets. “I dunno. You looked like you needed somebody to be nice to you.”

“So you felt sorry for me,” she said, her stomach knotting, but not with nausea. More than anything, she didn't want Doug to pity her. She'd been the recipient of enough pity to last two lifetimes.

“Well, a little,” he admitted, his lips twitching. “You wrecked the Cadillac, hurt your foot, have the ugliest cat in the world, then drank too much tequila. This probably hasn't been the easiest couple of days of your life. Plus there's something about you that—” He broke off and a self-conscious expression crossed his face. “'Nothing,” he muttered.

Curious, she slowly shifted to her side. “No. Finish. There's something about me that?”

He glanced away from her and moved his shoulders as if his shirt felt too tight. “There's just something about you that makes a man feel like you need to be taken care of.” He shot her a quick glance. “Don't get upset about it. My father always said my urge to take care of things would be my downfall. I've always been this way with puppies and birds and…”

“Women?” She wasn't sure what to think. She'd just been placed in the same category as puppies and birds.

His gaze shifted and he gave her a quick but thorough once over that she suspected was purely instinctive: He shook his head “Not women,” he said and something about his tone shimmied down her nerve endings. “You want to listen to some music?”

She shook her head. “I like the quiet and the fan:”

“Me too. I lived away from home for a while after I turned eighteen because I needed to be on my own, but I always missed the quiet. When my parents were killed in a pileup on the highway, it made sense to move back here.”

“I'm sorry. When did they die?”

A trace of grief darkened his eyes. “Four years ago. You never know how much you're gonna miss “em till they're gone.”

She felt his loss echo inside her. “My mother died when I was born.”

He frowned. “That must have been tough. What about your dad?”

“He's very much alive,” she said. “Just married his sixth wife.”

He raised his eyebrows and gave a slight grin. “Busy man.”

“Yes, he is,” she said, thinking how easy it felt to talk to Douglas. “I like the quiet out here, but it's so isolated. Do you ever get lonely?”

He shrugged. “You can be lonely with a hundred people around you. I've learned there's a difference between being alone and being lonely. I've been both.” He cracked a grin. “Depending on the people, there are times when I prefer my own company.”

She smiled in return, remembering how lonely she'd felt at all the parties she'd attended. “Can I get you a glass of water before I head off to bed?”

Wilhemina wrinkled her nose. Her stomach was still iffy.

“I'm
not
giving you any more margaritas,” he said firmly.

“I don't want any. I don't really want anything.”

“As soon as you can, though, you need to drink some water. It cuts the dehydration factor and will make you feel a little better.”

“That's what Katie said.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Katie?”

Her stomach knotted at the prospect of explaining her life and the embarrassing fact that her father had hired someone to help her find a husband. She closed her eyes. “She's a friend.”

“Does she know where you are?”

The knot tightened. “She knows I'm in Texas.”

“But does she know you're staying on a hog farmer's ranch?”

Feeling a spurt of anger override her guilt, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I don't have to tell her everything. I don't have to tell anyone everything. I'm an adult.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Okay. Just thought there might be someone worrying about you. If not Katie, then maybe a man.”

She immediately thought of Michael. But his interest in her was purely professional. “There's no man waiting for me,” she said, conveying her availability in the clearest possible way. She wished she hadn't drunk so much. She wished she could seduce Douglas. But she felt horrible.

She saw something flicker in Doug's eyes as he nodded, a recognition of the message she was trying to send. It occurred to Wilhemina that seduction was a lot like playing catch, not that she'd ever been athletic. She threw the ball and waited for Doug to throw it back. If he did, then the game continued. If he didn't, it was over.

“Feel better. G'night now,” he said, and the game was over.

For tonight.

“
Don't waste your time on a man unless his kiss makes you forget your name.
”

—S
UNNY
C
OLLINS'S WISDOM

Chapter 12

N
o big deal. She was just going to share a bed with Michael. Nothing else. No naked bodies entwined in the darkness writhing in sexual pleasure.

Katie adjusted an air conditioner vent so that it blew on her full blast. She should think about something else.

She and Michael had gleaned very little from the hotel front desk employees at the Marriott except for the fact that Wilhemina had checked in under a different name and paid with cash. Michael said they would leave for Bandera the following morning.

Nothing was going to happen, she told herself, but the closeness in the dark interior of the car made her more sensitive to him. His hands on the steering wheel, the subtle scent of his aftershave, the way he rolled his wide shoulders as if to release the tension of the day.

She was certain she didn't appeal to him; which was a huge relief. She wondered, however, in the secret darkness of the car, what it would be like if Michael wanted her. Funny how she'd hated the way the men in the bar had leered at her, but she didn't feel that way at all about how Michael looked at her. She knew he could be surprisingly chivalrous. She wondered what kind of lover he would be. Would he be passionate? Would he have to control everything the way he controlled the rest of his life? Would he take his time? She wondered what a woman could do to make Michael lose his control. A forbidden image of French kisses filled with a combination of teasing and seduction made her feel warm and oddly restless.

Katie frowned at the sensation. A shot of alarm raced through her. Where had all that come from? Those were things she would expect her mother to think.

Like mother, like daughter.

The prospect made her stomach knot.

How about you're human?
she heard her mother ask.
What's wrong with that?

Everything if it got in the way of doing what she needed to do. She wished she weren't cooped up in this car with him. Lord help her if proximity to Michael was affecting her this much now, she was going to feel as if she'd been dipped into a boiling cauldron when she got into bed with him. Swallowing her self-disgust, she slammed the door shut on her unsettling thoughts and concentrated on where Wilhemina might be. She wished she had mental telepathy. At the rate they were going, Ivan would return before she and Michael had recovered Wilhemina.

“Are you worried that we won't find her before Ivan gets back?’’ The question bubbled out of her throat.

Michael glanced at her. “No.”

“Why? Are you just obscenely confident in your tracking abilities or what?”

“I'm confident in my tracking abilities, and I'm confident that Wilhemina will have to use her charge card or withdraw some money from a bank before long. When she does, I'll know it and we'll find her.” He paused. “Worst-case scenario is Ivan comes back before we rein Wilhemina in and I lose his contract. I won't be happy, but I'll survive. If I play things right, I'll do better than survive. He may be the big fish I wanted, but there are others.”

Katie digested his words and wished she could say the same. If her worst-ease scenario happened, she wouldn't get the bonus and it was likely she would lose her job. Her stomach twisted. And what would happen to Jeremy then?

“You're so tense you could give off the same electrical energy as one of those bug zappers. What are you so afraid of?”

“I don't have your options,” she admitted in a low voice. “I don't want to get fired.”

“If you get fired, you can get another job.”

“It may not be that easy,” she said, gnawing her lip.

“You're young, unencumbered, bright, attractive when you ditch the plain-Jane look. The world is at your feet.”

“You're not much older, but you don't act like the world is at your feet.”

His mouth tightened. “I've got more than my history to settle.”

I do too,
she thought, but kept her mouth shut. She might be starting to think she could trust Michael, but there was too much at stake to bet on it.

He pulled the car to a stop. “Time to hit it,” he said. “You can have the shower first.”

Her throat tightened at the notion of continued proximity with him. “Thanks,” she managed and nodded.

They walked in silence to Michael's room and Katie felt the knot of tension inside her grow tighter with each passing second. This was ridiculous, she chided herself. Michael wasn't interested in her. It wasn't as if he was going to turn into a raving sex maniac once the lights went out.

You would be so lucky,
she heard her mother murmur.

Katie rolled her eyes and took her bag into the bathroom. When she finished bathing, she dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, then headed for the big king-sized bed.

His shirt stripped from his upper body, Michael sat glued in front of a laptop computer. She was momentarily glued to the sight of his bare chest and broad shoulders. She watched him lift his hand to rake it through his dark hair and saw the slight flex of his pees. A strange quiver jiggled through her stomach. The odd sensation caught her off guard, but she quickly pushed it aside.

Be matter-of-fact. As if it's no big deal to share a bed with a man like Michael. “Finding anything?”

“Not a damn thing yet,” he said and turned off the computer wearing an expression of disgust. “Tomorrow we go to Bandera. I'll make some calls to the hotels tonight asking if a woman with a weird cat checked in.”

Katie couldn't hold back a chuckle. “I can't help wondering how Chantal is enjoying her visit to Texas.”

“She's probably so traumatized that Ivan will have to take her to a cat shrink when she gets back to Philadelphia,” Michael muttered, shaking his head. “I know she's a rare breed, but why anyone would want such an ugly pet is beyond me.”

“Ivan looks at everything with a measuring stick of prestige or money.”

He shrugged. “I don't have to like him. I just want his business. I'm taking a shower, then hitting the sack.”

Katie nodded and looked again at the big bed. Another spate of nerves jiggled through her. Brushing aside her silly reservations, she pulled the covers back on one side, slid in, and hugged the edge. She took several deep breaths and the sound of the shower finally lulled her to sleep.

Sometimes later, she awakened to complete darkness and the sense that Michael was in bed beside her. He hadn't crowded her, but she could feel his warmth. She listened quietly and heard the even sound of his breathing.

Her mind sped into hyperdrive. What was he wearing? Was he naked? Was his hair damp from his shower? How could he fall asleep so easily with her in the bed beside him? Should that offend her?

No.
That was good.

Katie willed herself to go back to sleep, but her brain was too busy, her skin sensitized. Maybe a different position would help, she thought, and carefully rolled over. She closed her eyes and began to count sheep, but a vision of Michael's chest and sexy, intent eyes crowded out the image of white, fluffy animals.

Sexy.