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He bowed. “Well, you’re the first woman I’ve dumped on the ground, so I’d say we make a great team.”
“Yeah, sure.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and averted her eyes. She started to walk past him. “Any who, thanks for the puddle and the wet skirt. It’s been great. Really. A fantastic end to an otherwise horrible day.”
He cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say to get her to stay. Her banter was providing the perfect distraction. And he wanted to make her laugh again. He liked her laugh. “Why were you here? In this dark alley at night?”
She stilled. “Would you believe I was planning to mug you?”
“If that’s the case,” he took his bag off and held it out. “Here you go. It’s yours.”
She flitted a gaze down at it. “No thanks. I changed my mind. Can’t rob people in a wet skirt. It’s just not fashionable.”
He chuckled, and of their own accord his eyes focused on her arse. The wet skirt defined every single curve, leaving little to the imagination. “I didn’t know society rules held out over nefarious robberies.”
“Fashion always wins,” she replied, turning back to him with a smile. “It’s girl code.”
His heart sped up at her soft smile. She really was gorgeous. “Is it also girl code to look so stunning in a wet skirt?”
“No, that’s just me.” Her cheeks went red. “I was here because I went for a walk. I was scoping out the theater and got distracted.”
He stepped closer, his breath held. Reaching out, he swiped a hand across her damp cheek, smearing away the makeup that had escaped with her tears. “You had a little mascara on your cheek.” He hesitated, wondering if he should ask her why she’d cried. He wanted to know, needed to know, but he barely knew the woman. “Must’ve been from the splashing of the puddle.”
She moved away from him and swiped her hands under her eyes with shaky hands. “Yeah. Must’ve been.”
“Hey … ” He watched her, not missing the tight lines around her mouth. Something was wrong with her. He knew it. “Are you all right?”
She flushed. “I’m fine. I’ll be going now.”
He clenched his fists. He couldn’t force her to talk to him or to stay if she didn’t want to. “See you around our alley sometime?”
“I doubt it.” She clung to her purse. “I don’t like plays … or musicals, so I’m not usually here.”
Wait. What? She didn’t like Broadway? “You’re from New York, correct?”
“Yeah. So?”
“I thought it was written in the laws of New York City that all New Yorkers had to like Broadway, or they would be hanged until death in Times Square for all to see.”
She laughed again. “If so, I’m doomed.”
“Don’t worry.” He leaned closer. So close he could smell the soft scent of her perfume. Something flowery and light—like her laugh. “I won’t turn you in to the authorities.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You mean, it’ll be our little secret?”
“Absolutely.” He got lost in her eyes. There were little specks of amber in the green. He hadn’t seen that from further away. “Our dirty little secret. But only if … ”
She cocked her head. “If what?”
Should he say what was on his mind? Or should he stick to the original plan of a night at home … alone? Her rose-scented perfume filled his senses more completely than the evening’s July heat, and he knew he didn’t want to let her leave just yet. He wanted to make her laugh some more. To chase away the shadows of pain that still lurked in her eyes even now. He might have knocked her down, but now? He wanted to pick her back up.
She looked like she needed that tonight.
He stepped in front of her, this time his frame towering over her petite one. He wasn’t the tallest man in the world, and yet the tip of her head barely reached his shoulders. “ … If you go out with me tonight.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? I don’t think so.”
“You look like you need a distraction tonight.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, watching her closely as she shivered. Yes, she definitely felt something, too. Good. “Let me be your distraction.”
She put her hands on her hips. “And what do you hope to get out of this? Sex?”
