Marry Screw Kill(12)

“Hey, are you all right? I was starting to get concerned, especially after you looked a little ill.” Finally, she looks up at me. Damn, those eyes—big, blue, and beautiful.

“I looked sick? Well, I was just, uh …”

Much to my disappointment, she lowers her gaze while faltering with her words. A small smile tilts her lips as she stares down at my Doc Martens. Finally, she glances back up at me, and I return her contagious grin.

“Don’t worry. I have that effect on people. They see me and run.” My stupid joke brings a soft laugh from her. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard in a long time, and I want to hear it again.

“Thanks, but I’m fine, really. We need to hurry over to baggage claim before they think you abandoned your luggage.” Harlow turns and walks down the short concourse. I throw my computer bag over my shoulder and scuttle after her.

We walk side-by-side, my pace slower than usual. She doesn’t appear to be much over five-five and can’t meet me stride for stride. Even though she has on devilish heels, I have a good six inches on her, maybe more. I peer down, seeing the top of her breasts and the lace of a white bra. I choose to concentrate on her profile, though the soft swell of her cleavage makes it nearly impossible.

My eyes land on her red, pouty, kissable lips. Lush and inviting, I’m having trouble looking away from them. But her gold hair bounces as we walk, calling to me. I have the strangest desire to touch it, run my fingers through her locks to see if it’s as soft as it appears.

Harlow might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and I’ve seen a shit ton of beauties in the city. She’s the exact opposite of the street-smart women of Manhattan, though. Young and untainted.

Beneath the face and body of a grown woman, there’s a childlike goodness. I feel like she needs something from me. I can’t put my finger on it, but I have a strong desire to watch over her. It’s an unfamiliar and strange feeling—one I’ve never had for another human being. Well, maybe a little for my grandmother, but she could take on a small army.

We make it to the mostly empty baggage turnstile and wait for my bags with the small crowd of other passengers.

“How was your flight?” Her eyes lock with mine. A tangible connection hums between us, making her seem familiar to me.

“It was fine. No complaints.” I smile back at her, enjoying the unexplained ease. “I even took a nap. Fully rested now. So, are there any plans for tonight? I take it James is still held up at the hospital.”

“Yes, story of his life. He’s hardly been home this week, so I’m the one to welcome you here. I hope that’s okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Oh, I’m not sure I’m a big favorite in his family, so I just expected …” she trails off, but I know what’s left unsaid. Harlow thinks I believe the labels she’s been arbitrarily given. So far, nothing about her leads me to believe they’re true, unless this sweet and innocent way of hers is an act. But even as I think that, I know deep down she’s not playing me.

“I have an open mind. Besides, you seem totally harmless.” Right now, I might be the dangerous one … to her.

Harlow chuckles softly. “Well, you’re the only one in his family who thinks that about me I bet. We still haven’t heard whether James’ mother or brother will be attending our wedding.” She tilts her head toward me and her blue eyes connect with mine. “Thanks, by the way, for giving me a chance and not writing me off.”

“If you make my uncle happy, then you’re all right by me.”

Her cheeks flush again, but she doesn’t look away this time. There’s this odd attraction between us, or maybe it’s completely on my end. I’ve had scores of reactions to beautiful women. The kind that center on my dick, but I don’t remember reacting to a woman like this before.

I want to reach out and give her a feeling of acceptance, reassurance. But she’s not mine to touch, so I restrain my hands and break our gaze by scanning the black rubber belts circling in front of us. My bag appears on the belt and I pull it off, stand it up, and we start walking toward the exit.

When did I start worrying so much about other people’s feelings? First Rachel, and now Harlow. I’m not heartless, just selfish at times and singularly focused on my own goals—med school, residency, and then my own practice. The patterns for my life are carved in deep.

She reaches into her designer bag and pulls out her car keys. “I’m not parked too far,” she mutters. I trail dutifully behind her, enjoying the view as I follow her out a set of glass doors leading to the parking garage.

“James suggested I take you to a restaurant downtown called Rogue.” She shrugs, clearly wanting my approval.

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s new in town and I’ve been wanting to try the place out, but I’m not allowed to go by myself.” Her voice fades into almost a whisper.

“What do you mean, ‘not allowed’? Is there something wrong with the place? Bad part of town?”

“It’s in a safe area by The Clinic.” Well, that didn’t answer my question. She stops in front of a sweet little BMW and clicks the fob to unlock the doors.

“I’m assuming this is yours?”

“Yep,” she quips, standing next to me at the back of her car. She releases the trunk and I place my luggage inside. I walk to her door and open it for her.