Page 172 of Nobody's Girl

“Oh, that guy. They said you were coming today, but they never told me your name. Sorry. I went and knocked myself out. I’m okay now. Can you tell the doctor to come in and let me go home?”

The shaking of his head makes the longer hair on top bounce a bit. It’s beautiful. Damn, I have to stop looking at him. He’s just so damn perfect. His muscles are bulky under the fabric that hides them from me. Mom could have mentioned that little fact to me.

I hope Kyle won’t be threatened by this guy. I mean, he’s completely hot, but my heart belongs to my Kyle.

“You have to stay the night. They want to keep you under observation for twenty-four hours before they’ll let you go home,” he informs me.

Crap!

“Are my parents on their way here?”

“They told me to stay with you.” His words take the air out of my lungs.

What the hell?

“Do you mean until they get here?”

My stomach clenches as he runs his fingers lightly along my collar bone to my shoulder. “The blue bruise on your shoulder must hurt. I hate to see that on your perfect ivory skin.” His voice sounds far away as he gazes at my shoulder.

Perfect ivory what? Damn it! This guy is something else.

“Umm, Mr. Fontaine, about my parents.”

The jerk of his head as he looks back at me shows me the frown he’s wearing. “No, Mr. Fontaine, Alyssa. Call me Eden, I insist. About your parents, I’ve told you. They told me to stay with you. I’ll be with you until the doctor releases you.”

He’ll be staying here? All night long? With me?

I want my mommy!

“That’s hard to believe. I need to call my mother. Can you hand me the phone?”

My cell phone is picked up and placed back in his pocket as he says, “I had to turn it off. No cell phones allowed in here. I promise they’re completely aware of everything. They’ll be at home, waiting for you tomorrow.”

This has to be some kind of joke, or a misunderstanding, or a completely fucked up situation. “My parents are incredibly over-protective. There’s no way they’d want a man spending the night with me anywhere.”

Back by my side, he sits on the bed, brushing my hair back. “They trust me, as should you, Alyssa.”

The way he talks is so formal. Normally, I’d think him stuffy and slightly arrogant. Somehow he pulls it off.

He has an untamed look to him, though he speaks as if he’s been very well educated and refined. “Where’d you come from, Eden?”

The way his lips turn up into a smile makes my heart rate increase, something we both observe as the beeps of the machine speed up.

How embarrassing!

“New Orleans.”

“So that’s the accent, then?” It’s a mix of southern and French and its smooth and deep. Sexier than should be legal!

My hair seems to fascinate him. His fingers twirl it. And though I should stop him, I don’t want to.

“Some of it. My father’s French and he grew up there. When he met my mother, who’s from New Orleans, he moved to the United States. I’ve spent most summers in France. We have a home in Paris. We speak entirely in French when we’re there. Do you speak any other language?”

Why does he peer so intensely into my eyes?

“No,” I answer.

Cupping the back of my neck, as if he’s about to pull me up and kiss me, he says, “We must remedy that.”