Authors: Unknown
V
icky closed Ty’s door without a sound. Slowly, silently, she backed away from it.
Her eyes stayed riveted to the ribbon of light visible beneath it. When a shadow crossed it, she almost peed her pants.
Knuckles rapped her bedroom door. Pressing her palm over her galloping heart, she took another step back . . . and a hand reached out of the dark and grabbed her arm.
Scared senseless, she shot forward like a bullet, would have zoomed straight out into the hallway, but another arm around her waist pulled her back. A hand over her mouth smothered her shriek.
“Easy there, honey,” Ty breathed in her ear. “You don’t want your boyfriend busting down my door, now do you?”
She swallowed the shriek, shook her head. He released her and she spun around. “For God’s sake,” she hissed, “you scared me to death!”
“Honey, you’re lucky all you got was a little scare, creeping around in the dark like a thief.” He kept his voice to a whisper.
“I wasn’t creeping around.” She sounded sulky.
“You were so.” He found her wrist in the dark, dragged her away from the door. “If I hadn’t heard Banes at your door and figured out what was what, believe you me, you’d have gotten worse than a scare.”
Giving up that argument, she circled back to the other thing he’d said that pissed her off. “Winston’s
not
my boyfriend. He’s a liar and an asshole and a snake in the grass.”
“It so happens I agree with you,” he said, “which is why I’m standing here in my underwear whispering like a girl instead of tossing you out on your ass.”
“Oh.” That took the wind out of her sails. “Well. Thanks.” She tried not to think about his underwear.
Across the hall, Adrianna called out. “Victoria.” She kept her voice low, but every syllable simmered. “Open the door.”
Together, Vicky and Ty crept to his door, pressed their ears to the crack.
“The door’s unlocked,” they heard Adrianna say. She opened it and went in.
“She’s not here,” Winston clipped out.
“She’s not in the bathroom either.”
A conversation followed, too quiet to hear. Then they stepped into the hallway, closing the door.
A sharp rap on Ty’s door made them both leap back. Vicky stumbled against Ty. He caught her arm. “Hide in the bathroom,” he breathed in her ear. “I’ll get rid of them.”
Hands held out in front of her, she groped through the darkness. Then—wham!—she stubbed her toe on the leg of the bed. Air hissed out through her teeth, ending in a drawn-out whimper.
He was beside her in an instant. “Shhh.”
“My toe,” she breathed, an agonized whisper. “I think I broke it.”
A heavier fist hit the door, louder and more impatient. Pulling her arm over his shoulders, Ty half carried her while she hopped on one foot.
When soft carpet gave way to cold tile, she felt around for the sink, grasped the rim. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Go.”
And without a word, he closed the door and left her standing on one foot in the dark.
W
earing a snug pair of boxer briefs, an annoyed expression, and absolutely nothing else, Ty pulled the door open.
He waited a beat while Adrianna’s gaze traveled instinctively from his jaw, down his chest, all the way to his crotch. When it flew back up to his face, he let his scowl fade and a slow smile curve his lips.
“Honey,” he drawled, “I’m not up for a three-way, but if you lose the yuppie you can come on in.”
Her jaw dropped. Speechless, cheeks crimson, she looked so much like Vicky—who’d often favored him with a similar look of sexually charged outrage—that he had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.
Winston didn’t find it funny. “We’re looking for Victoria.”
Ty smirked. “She run away from you again, Winnie?”
“She didn’t run away from me,” Winston ground out through his teeth. “She’s overwrought because of the wedding.”
Ty did confused. “Which wedding would that be? Her brother’s? Or the one she would’ve had herself, if not for finding you up another woman’s skirt?”
Winston’s face went florid. His fists bunched at his sides.
At any other time, Ty would’ve welcomed the invitation. But unfortunately a fistfight wouldn’t help Vicky, hiding in his bathroom, possibly with a broken toe.
So instead of throwing more gas on the fire, he stepped back, held his door open wide. “See for yourself. No wayward ex-fiancées in my bed tonight.”
Winston’s eyes swept the room. Adrianna stepped inside to peer behind the door. Before she could get any ideas about the bathroom, Ty laid on a silky smile. “Offer stands. Ditch Winnie and come on back around.” He dropped his voice. “Truth is, I got a thing for cougars.”
She scurried, actually scurried, into the hallway. “I don’t know what Isabelle sees in you,” she sniffed from a safe distance. “You are completely disgusting.”
“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, a knowing sound. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here.” And he swung the door shut in their faces.
He listened as they moved down the hall, Adrianna’s tone taut with insult, Winston’s jagged with fury. Then he opened the bathroom door, flipped on the light. And got his first glimpse of Vicky.
She was a mess. Holey T-shirt, saggy underpants, bird’s nest hair. And one extremely swollen big toe.
He wanted to eat her up.
“Well, hell,” he said, making himself focus on the toe. “We’ve got to get you to the ER.”
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head and the bird’s nest wobbled. “I just need some ice. Can you go down to the kitchen and get some? And grab anything chocolate you see lying around.”
He shook his head ruefully. “I’ll be glad to wait on you, honey. But first you’re going to the ER.”
She hissed her impatience. “I don’t need the freaking ER. It’s just a sprain.”
“Then you won’t mind if I give it a squeeze, just to make sure.” He took a step forward.
She hopped a step back. “Keep your hands off my toe.”
“No can do, sugar. If you want to skip the ER, you gotta let me play doctor.” He took another step. She snatched up his shaving kit and threw it at his head. He caught it, tossed it on the bed. She chucked his toothbrush, his comb. He let them sail on by.
“I’m a lot bigger than you, sweetheart, and I’m gonna win this little standoff. The only question is how hard you’re gonna make it on yourself.” He couldn’t help grinning.
“You’re such an asshole,” she seethed, blue eyes flashing. “I’m in
pain
here, and you’re
laughing
at me!”
“Well, of course I am. Have you looked in the mirror? A man could turn to stone looking at that hair of yours. And I haven’t seen panties like those since my sweet granny passed away. She used to hang a dozen pairs just like ’em on her clothesline.”
He watched color rise up her neck until her face was as red as her toe. She tugged her T-shirt down to cover her underpants.
Poor Vicky. She was having a lousy night. He hated picking on her when she was down, but she was stubborn as a stump and it was the only way he could think of to make her quit sassing him about the ER. He took another step toward her.
And a big, fat tear rolled down her cheek.
His heart swelled up, filling his chest. “Aw, shit, honey,” he murmured, and taking the last step, he wrapped her up in his arms.
V
icky’s pity party lasted about a minute. Then she wiped her nose on her sleeve, lifted her splotchy face to look up at Ty.
Even through puffy lids he looked great, gazing back at her with tiger’s eyes. He didn’t let go of her, and she didn’t push him away. Instead, she propped her chin on the light mat of honey-colored hair that covered his truly awesome chest.
“So, what did Mother do when she got a load of your abs?” He had three rows. Vicky’s throbbing toe hadn’t struck her blind.
He shrugged. “She dummied up for a minute, which was a nice change of pace. Then she got all embarrassed because she eye-fucked me before she could stop herself.”
Vicky let out a startled laugh, picturing Adrianna’s expression.
“And Winnie,” he went on, “he got an eyeful too. I expect he’s back in his room thanking his stars that Isabelle stopped me from kicking his ass back there at the restaurant.”
Her head came up. “Kicking his ass? Why would you do that?”
“Because he’s got it coming, that’s why.” He brushed a knuckle across her damp cheekbone. “If he’s smart, he’ll keep out of my way all weekend. But lucky for me”—he flashed an outlaw grin—“he doesn’t seem too smart.”
Vicky blinked up at him, dazzled. Utterly beguiled.
“Okay,” she said finally, “you can take me to the ER.” It was the least she could do.
W
hat a production. First, Ty had to carry her downstairs. Then he had to wake up the maid. The maid had to call a cab. At the hospital, they had to wait around for a doctor. She didn’t speak English. Neither did the nurse. Then he had to carry Vicky back upstairs to his room.
And they had to pull the whole thing off without waking any of the guests.
“There you go, honey.” He laid her gently on his bed. The doc had doped her up good, and she lolled back against the pillows, a shiny drop of drool pooled in the corner of her mouth. He wagged his head. “Let’s get you out of that snot rag.”
Digging through his drawers, he found his last clean T-shirt. “How can I be out already?” he muttered, trying not to think about what was really on his mind.
Undressing Vicky.
That’s right, she’d be naked in his bed and, once again, he was helpless to do anything about it. She was practically comatose, had only come to life when he accidentally touched the ticklish spot on her ribs. Then she turned into a ball of worms in his arms. He’d almost dropped her on the curb getting out of the cab, and again while he was wrestling open the front door.
This was
not
how he’d pictured the wedding weekend. Back in Texas, he’d been too busy with the trial to think much about it, but to the extent he had, he’d assumed it would be fun, that he’d probably get a little emotional, and that he’d definitely get laid.
Well, so far fun was thin on the ground, his emotions were all over the map, and his prospects for getting laid were dwindling by the hour. Next door, Ricky’s headboard banged the wall like a jackhammer. Ty’s biggest thrill would be a glimpse of Vicky’s tits while he changed her out of one ugly T-shirt and into another.
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Vicky. Honey. Sit up for me.” She didn’t move a muscle. He hooked her under the arms, pulled her upright. She sagged like a rag doll. He peeled her T-shirt over her head and let her plop back onto the pillows while he reached for the fresh one.
And then he gave himself a minute. Just a minute to look at her beautiful tits. Damn, they were perfect. Anger streaked through him when he imagined her inflating them with bags of silicone, but he couldn’t sustain it, not with her nakedness before him. Her skin looked like satin.
Would it be so awful to touch her? After all, she’d let him do it before.
He reached out one hand, cupped her gently. A perfect handful, not too much, not too little. His thumb brushed her nipple. It stiffened, and his eyes darted to her face.
Nothing. It was only a reflex.
It tickled his conscience that she was too out of it to know he was handling her, but he couldn’t take his hand away. Anyway, it wasn’t like he was feeling her up. He wasn’t kneading or massaging. He wasn’t squeezing. Or sucking.
His mouth went dry.
No. That would be wrong. Sucking, licking. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
He sat back. Pulled his hand off her breast. Drew a fortifying breath and held it while he wrestled her, very gently, into his T-shirt. Then he pulled off the sweats he’d loaned her, careful not to jostle her taped-up toe. Left the execrable panties in place and tucked the covers up under her chin.
Then he locked himself in the bathroom and took a very, very cold shower.
S
unlight scraped pointy claws across Vicky’s eyeballs. She turned her head away from the light. And blinked. Blinked.
Blinked, blinked, blinked.
Oh God. No matter how many times she blinked, Ty’s head was still there, resting on the other pillow.
She’d done it, she’d actually had sex with him. And
she couldn’t remember it
! The words wailed in her head. She
wanted
to remember!
Salvaging what she could, she let her gaze travel down his body. The brick wall of a chest, the paving stone abs. The package bulging inside his oh-so-snug underwear. Even semi-hard, he was impressive.
She’d really, really wanted to see him naked. And all the way hard.
Her eyes lingered there for a while, then moved lower, over long, lean legs to perfectly formed feet. Funny, feet usually bummed her out. She didn’t even like her own. But she liked his.
She must have been thinking too loudly, or scrutinizing him too noisily, because he stirred. Whipping her head around, she snapped her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. The bed shifted. A long moment passed while she felt his eyes on her face. She forced herself not to swallow.
Then, “I know you’re awake. I can see your eyeballs jittering.”
“They’re not jittering,” she said. “They’re spasming. You’re not so pretty first thing in the morning.”
He chuckled, a warm and throaty sound that had all the little muscles between her legs twitching. A tingle zipped up her spine and actually made her shiver.
His tone shifted to concern. “Feeling all right? You don’t have a fever, do you?” He laid his palm on her forehead, and it was so warm and dry that she moaned a little, deep in her throat. He drew his hand down so it cupped her cheek, turned her head to face him. “Open your eyes, sugar.”
She did, to find him propped on an elbow, studying her face like a map.
“Well, your eyes are clear. You don’t have a fever.” He removed his hand. “How’s the toe?”
Oh yeah, the toe. Everything came back to her. Every. Thing. She shut her eyes again, while a tsunami of humiliation swamped her.
Then his knuckles brushed her cheek. “Look at me, honey.” His voice was soft, but his tone commanded and she obeyed, gazing up into his honey brown eyes. Concern shone there, and something more. Warmth and comfort, and kindness.