Wicked Burn(30)
She waited until Niall nodded.
“Good,” Rose said. She put her hand on Niall’s elbow. “Now let’s get out of this place. I shouldn’t say it, considering what I do for a living, but I really can’t stand hospitals.”
Niall gave an exhausted bark of laughter. “God, I couldn’t agree more.”
SEVEN
The brisk wind coming off Lake Michigan and whipping down the tunnels of the high-rises couldn’t prevent Vic from walking back to Riverview Towers from the theater that Saturday afternoon. The run-through on Thursday night only served to highlight myriad problems and concerns that needed to be taken care of posthaste before opening night next Friday. Vic couldn’t justify returning to the farm for the long weekend, as he usually did.
That was it. Lack of fresh air and rigorous exercise on the back of one of his horses were responsible for his extra edgy mood for the past two days. Sure, Vic would have been a bear no matter the circumstances, given the fact that he had an opening in six days and that not only was it his own play but his first production as director of the Hesse Theater.
Although, his tension level might have something to do with the fact that Niall Chandler had specifically told him not to call her. Or that she’d looked so pale and fragile as she’d said it that it had made him irrationally want to wrap her in his arms and forbid her to go anywhere near her own parents.
None of your business or your concern, he told himself as he walked down the street. Still, his mind kept churning as if it had been set on automatic by somebody other than him.
Maybe his touchy mood and near inability to sleep at night related to the fact that he was hornier than hell for a woman who slept less than fifty feet away from him, the only thing separating them being a few thin walls and—more crucially—Niall’s choice.
He knew she was over there. He’d come home late on Thursday following the dress rehearsal and meetings with his staff. But as he’d stood outside in the hallway debating whether or not he should knock on her door, the light that he could barely see at the bottom of her doorway suddenly blinked out.
He’d grimly turned away, recognizing a dismissal when he saw it.
Vic nodded in greeting to the doorman at Riverview Towers and put out his hand to push through the revolving doors. He stopped abruptly when he caught a glimpse in the distance of a solitary figure and pale gold hair blowing in the wind.
He hesitated for a few seconds. Something about her bent head and the way her shoulders hunched forward slightly as she braced against the chilly November wind decided him.
He’d intended to confront Niall immediately when he saw her walking alone, but instead he found himself following her at a distance of half a block or so. Something about her posture intrigued him, seeming both vulnerable and fragile and aloof and closed off at once.
She wore a pair of black sweat pants with wide legs, a pink shirt that fit over her hips snugly, and a short, black hooded sweat-shirt. She bent slightly forward as she walked, her hands in her pocket. The tight shirt unerringly highlighted the feminine sashay of her hips and the beguiling outline of her ass. Vic’s gaze glued to the sight for several minutes, and he experienced a pleasant, warm tingling at his sex even at this distance from her.
When she progressed farther down Lake Street into Chicago’s wholesale food and warehouse district, Vic frowned. Where the hell was she going? This area was iffy at best on a weekday, despite the fact that it was one of the latest frontiers for urban development. But on a Saturday the warehouse district practically became a ghost town. Niall shouldn’t be walking alone in this deserted, run down area of the city. Maybe she had a health club tucked into one of these warehouses, Vic reasoned as he picked up his pace to keep up with her.
She suddenly jogged across a small side street, not even bothering to look for cars because the area was so still and quiet. Vic wondered as he followed her why the seedy convenience store on the corner was even open, since it probably made all of its business from the warehouse workers who filled the area Monday through Friday.
Niall stopped at the entrance to a five-story brick building, which—given the stickers on the new panes of glass in the windows and the unfinished sidewalk out front—appeared to be not only empty, but still under construction. When he saw her draw some keys out of her pocket and unlock a service entrance door, Vic sprinted across the street in order to catch her in time.
“Don’t they call this trespassing?” he asked at the same time that he just prevented the heavy door from separating him from Niall. The whites of her big eyes showed clearly when she wheeled around to face him. Good, at least she recognized that a degree of caution was warranted when she went wandering alone in vacant buildings in deserted parts of the city.
“Vic!” she exclaimed, clearly shocked to see him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. He allowed the door to slam closed behind him. They stood in a concrete stairwell lit with fluorescent lights.
“I . . . my new condo is in this building. The project manager gave me a key so that I could stop by on the weekend, when the construction workers aren’t here, and see the progress they made during the week.”
Vic nodded toward the stairs, indicating she should lead the way. He noticed the hesitation and bemusement on her expressive face but he countered it with a sure stride as he came toward her. In a matter of seconds he followed her up the stairs, appreciating the view of her swaying ass even more up close than he had from a distance.