Anything for Her(30)

Sitting there brooding, his mood was crappy. He couldn’t even pin down why he felt such urgency. Sure, she’d been annoyed yesterday, and she should be. He hadn’t listened to her caution, and as a result she’d been put in an embarrassing and maybe hurtful position. But she’d understand if they had to slow it down a little, wouldn’t she?

He didn’t know. Nolan didn’t have the slightest damn idea what had been going through her head yesterday, and he didn’t like the feeling. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, flexed. He looked down at them and deliberately loosened them.

Shit, he thought, I’m in over my head. He knew better than to dive headfirst like this. He couldn’t begin to understand what he’d been thinking. He didn’t know this woman, and he was already all tangled up over her. And it wasn’t all because he wanted her, either. If it had been that simple, he could shrug and figure she wasn’t worth the effort. There were a lot of pretty women around.

Not many so graceful, they looked as if in the next step they might become airborne. Not many intrigued by what he did, either, rather than disappointed because he didn’t don suit and tie every morning. Not many with the gift of creating beauty, or of displaying delight so transparently.

“Damn it,” he muttered, knowing he should go home and get his ass back to work. He’d killed an hour and a half already. He only had a few hours before Sean got home and wondered where he was.

At the sound of a car engine he turned his head and saw a white Corolla coming down the street. Relief, way out of proportion, filled his chest. He watched as the car noticeably hesitated, then turned into the driveway and Allie parked in her customary spot beside the steps.

He got out and went to meet her.

She climbed out, too, and faced him, her eyes wide and wary. “Nolan. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is this about yesterday? I did understand why Sean acted the way he did, if that’s what you meant to talk about.”

“No.” He frowned. “Yes. Oh, hell. I didn’t like things ending the way they did.”

Aggravatingly enough, he still couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“Um...you can come up if you’d like,” she finally said. “Let me grab my groceries.”

“I’ll help.” She popped her trunk, and he loaded himself down with bags, leaving her to carry only her purse and a small watermelon.

“Thank you,” she said over her shoulder.

He stood aside to let her go ahead of him. “You talk to the owners about these steps?”

“Yes, they’ve had a man come out and take a look. He agreed with you and they’re to be replaced, although I don’t know when.”

At the top she unlocked her door. With a sense of anticipation—don’t even think about her bedroom, that’s not why she invited you up—Nolan followed her inside.

It really was a small space. She hadn’t even tried to squeeze a sofa into the living area, which, come to think of it, suggested she didn’t often have more than one or two people over at a time. A couple of upholstered chairs, an end table between them, and a television crowded one corner. Otherwise, the quilting frame effectively filled the room.

Beyond it was a galley-style kitchen and the tiniest dining nook he’d ever seen. He wasn’t sure he could edge his bigger body around to the other side of the table—and it wasn’t a large table. The merest suggestion of a hall led to two half-closed doors—bedroom and bathroom, he presumed. From the kitchen he had a glimpse into the bedroom, where a red-and-white quilt covered a bed. The headboard was lacy and white—iron, maybe? His body tightened, and he concentrated on setting the grocery bags down on the counter without breaking anything.

He ended up leaning a hip against the laminate countertop and watching Allie put away the groceries. She did that, like she did everything else, as if it were a dance. Each turn was a twirl; if she’d worn a skirt instead of jeans, it would have swirled around her legs. No missteps. Her hands were as graceful as her body. No, there was nothing deliberate about it. That was how she moved. It was catlike, he decided, while most people were giraffes or elephants. Ponderous. Nobody had ever accused him of grace, that was for sure.

She came to a sudden stop, a jar of olive oil in her hand. “Why are you watching me that way?”

“Because I like watching you.” His voice came out rough. Polish it, he thought, don’t scare her. “You looked like you were dancing.”