I couldn’t believe he was thinking about work now! “Yes,” I said.
“Whats did yous say?” he asked sleepily. “You can’t say I went to hospital. They will shmell weaknessss.”
I laughed. “You make them sound like the Mafia.”
“Oh, they are. They arrr—” I heard a snore and looked back. He was fast asleep, his mouth open and his arm flung over the top of his head. Not the most graceful sleeping position, I’ll give you that.
“Get him home, get him home,” I said to myself, realizing that I had no idea where home was. In fact, I could barely imagine him having a home. I could picture him living in his office, in some secret room there, so he never had to leave it and was never late.
“Hey.” I leaned into the back seat and tried to wake him. “Hey! Mr. Stark!” I said, a little louder this time. But he didn’t budge. “HEY!” I slapped him on the shoulder and he opened his eyes and looked at me. His lids were less red now, but his blue eyes had a hooded, sexy, bedroom look to them. They locked onto mine and my heart quickened.How damn inconvenient was it that I found him so adorably hot and cute right now!More so now that all that Ryan Stark bravado seemed to have melted away.
“Where do you live?” I asked him as his eyes started closing again.
“Whyyyy?” He smiled at me. “Want to come home with me, Doris?” he chuckled softly, and then his head flopped back again.
“HEY!” I whacked him a little harder this time. “Mr. Stark—”
“Call me Ryyyyaaan.” He winked at me—at least I think that’s what it was—and then followed it with an even bigger smile.
I gasped.Who was this man and what had the medication done with him?I’d seen more smiles from him in the past five minutes than I’d seen in days.
“Okay, Ryan,” I said awkwardly. Saying his name out loud for the first time felt strange. Strange but . . .good.
“Yes, Doris,” he said breathily. “Do you mind if I call you Doris?” he asked.
“Uh . . . sure,” I said.
“Doris Day,” he slurred again with another smile.
God, he had a nice smile. I wondered why he didn’t use it more often.
“My mother luuureved Doris Day. I loved Doris too.” He tried to sit up but slid back down again. “Oooops,” he chuckled again.
“Ryan, I need you to listen to me,” I said, softly and slowly.
“Mmmm,” he muttered. “But you don’t look like Doris Day, though, you’re waaaaayyyy too pretty.” His smile grew. It was sleepy and dopey and, again, so damn cute. “Do you mind if I say shthat?” he asked quickly.
“Say what?”
“That you’re pretty?” He reached out a floppy hand. I guess he was trying to touch my face, but it missed and crashed to the seat.
I smiled back at him. “No. It’s nice to hear.” Nice to hear.Well, that was a bloody understatementsaid the butterflies flapping about in my stomach.
“Okaaay,” he slurred. “You’re pretty. You’resoooopretty.”
“Thanks,” I said. It looked like he was about to close his eyes again.
“I’m shorry I’m so mean to you sometimess,” he whispered.
“What?” I asked, wondering if I’d heard correctly. But he didn’t respond. I really needed to get him home.
“What is your address?” I asked again, talking clearly, slowly and enunciating the words so carefully that I felt like I was talking to a kindergarten-aged child.
“Yous want to know where I liffff?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Mmmmmmmm, ish been a very, very, veeeery shlong time since a pretty woman came to my house.” He opened his eyes and smiled at me again. “13 SEX Ocean Drive, Clifton. Doris.” He suddenly burst out laughing. “Sex, six. Get it?” He was laughing even more now. “Yous so funny, Dorisss.” He closed his eyes and put his head back down on the seat.
