Donna Hill - If I Were Your Woman

“We almost lost ya,” the deep voice said from behind her.

She gripped the rail, drew in a quick breath, and gingerly turned around. Her knight’s face was partly shielded by a hood and a ski hat pulled low over his forehead. The whirling snow negated a better look. He bent down and picked up her bag.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say.

He handed her the bag. “A little wet, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

“’Preciate it. That could have been ugly.” He was staring at her. Her pulse raced. Instinct urged her to run. Her eyes darted left, then right. They were the only people on the street. “Thanks again.”

He nodded and started off down the street. Her breathing began to return to normal. She turned and slowly walked up the stairs. Years of living in New York had truly jaded her. Instead of accepting a simple kindness she had him pegged as the next Jack the Ripper.

Once upstairs she got out of her wet clothes and put her groceries away, then put water on to boil for tea and took out the fixings for a pot of homemade chicken soup. It was the one thing she could actually fix without burning.

With her ingredients simmering, and the snow gently falling outside, her apartment took on a warm and cozy feeling. She went into her living room and turned on the CD player, then decided to call Elizabeth and check on things at the spa.

“You would think that folks would have stayed home today,” Elizabeth was saying. “But we have about twenty men here already. Unbelievable.”

“Ell, I know you don’t have far to go, but maybe you should close up early. How much staff is there?”

“Carmen is here and Barbara came in. We have one trainer and the clerk in the café. We can get by.”

“I still think you all should close early. You won’t get stuck but everyone else might.”

“True. Ron is outside shoveling now and Drew is helping, but it looks like a waste of time.”

“The last thing we need is someone falling.”

“You definitely have a point. I’ll talk to Barbara. It’s not getting better out there.”

“It was murder just getting to the store and back.”

“Speaking of murder.” She lowered her voice. “I met a murderer last night.”

“What? Are you losing it?”

“No. I’m serious,” she said in a hushed whisper. “I’ll tell you all about it on Friday at Barbara’s. He’s a friend of Ron’s. Look, I gotta go.”

Stephanie stood there with the phone in her hand, totally unable to process what Elizabeth said. She shook her head. Ellie was obviously overworked. She went to the stove to check on her chicken soup just as the doorbell rang.

She wiped her hands on a towel, fluffed her hair, and went to the door.

“Hey, baby. I would have used my key but…”

Stephanie reached out and grabbed a bag. “What did you do, buy out the whole store?”

Tony stomped his feet before coming inside. “Wanted to make sure we had everything just in case.”

Stephanie walked toward the kitchen. “Just in case of what—a nuclear disaster?” She chuckled.

“You just wait. You’ll be begging me for those goodies come tonight.”

Stephanie put the bag on the counter and took a peek inside. There was everything from snack foods to full-course meals already prepared. “You didn’t miss a thing.” She started unpacking.

“Told ya.” He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned down and kissed the back of her neck. “Did you miss me last night?”

She turned to face him and looked up into his eyes. “Just a little.” A grin played around her mouth.

“Oh, I see. I may have to stay away longer. So I can be appreciated when I return.”

“Think that will help?” She ran the tip of her finger across his lips. He captured it and held it there for a moment. She pulled it out slowly.

“I don’t want to find out,” he said slowly, then lowered his head and kissed her. He took his time, stroking her cheek with one hand, holding her close with the other.

Stephanie felt light. Her heart thumped against his chest. She moved closer. The strength and security of Tony’s nearness pushed her anxieties away. In his presence she felt as if she could deal with anything that life tossed at her.

“You really did miss me,” he said, easing back. He looked down into her eyes.

Stephanie glanced away, the instant of vulnerability broken. She shrugged. “A little.” She turned her back toward him and busied herself with unpacking the groceries.

“Why is it so hard for you to admit your feelings?”

“I do admit my feelings.”

“Maybe when it comes to a client or a new campaign or your friends or the spa, but not when it comes to me, Steph.” He stepped closer. “I know that you care. I can see it in your eyes. I feel it in your body when we make love, but you won’t let yourself admit it out loud. Maybe not even to yourself.”

She felt her body stiffen. Why couldn’t he just leave things the way they were? They got along fine, they enjoyed each other’s company, they were great in bed together. That should be enough.

“Okay. I give up. I’ll leave it alone. I can tell this isn’t something you want to discuss.” He wandered over to the other side of the room and sat down at the kitchen table. “Something smells good.”

“Chicken soup.”

“You’re kidding.”

She spun around to face him, hands on hips, a look of challenge gleaming in her brown eyes. “I beg your pardon.”

“Well, let’s be honest, Steph, finding your way around a kitchen isn’t one of your strong suits.” His right brow rose for emphasis.

She tossed a dish towel at him, which he snatched out of the air in midflight. “Very funny. I’m talented in other areas,” she said with a petulant grin.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.