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Her grin widened. “Like Pretty Woman.”
“As you like.” He winked and turned back to his station.
Chloe gave a little laugh as she headed across the lobby to the bank of elevators. There were signs for various perks in the building. Dry cleaning, a gym, a pool, and even a café. Fresh coffee at their fingertips each morning?
Man, talk about living the dream.
The doors slid open silently, and Chloe stepped across the threshold. It felt like an eternity, but she was blessedly alone in the car. She didn’t have to unleash her babbling on another person for at least a few minutes. The light flashed and a light chime prompted her to get moving as the doors opened. Her suitcase clattered over the track before rolling silently onto the carpeting.
Michael stood in the hallway. He wore battered jeans, an old T-shirt, and a worried look on his handsome face.
Nerves jumped around under her skin. What the hell was she doing here? She should totally turn around. This was a mistake. An impulsive, horrifying mistake.
He came farther down the hall. Her gaze dropped to his unreasonably sexy bare feet. That really wasn’t fair. She’d always had a thing about old denim and bare feet.
Okay, grab a clue and calm down.
“Chloe? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” No, of course everything wasn’t all right. Her entire life was spiraling into a shitstorm tornado. Just ask him. Spit it out. You can do it. “If it wouldn’t be an imposition.” She swallowed down the huge lump in her throat. “It’s okay to say no or whatever, but do you think I could stay here?”
Chapter 22
Either Michael was still dreaming or the universe had flipped over while he was watching a marathon of Roadies. No other way this could be happening.
When Chloe froze, he met her partway down the hall. She had a duffel bag over one arm and a small dull brown hard shell suitcase by her feet. Even her luggage was plain, modest and without frills, because that was how she lived her life.
“You want to what?” he asked, needing her to say it again. Only way he could begin to believe she’d decided voluntarily she wanted to live with him.
“I want to stay over.”
Ah, the picture was getting clearer. He propped his arm against the wall. “Stay over like what, a sleepover? Maybe we’ll watch movies and do each other’s hair? I know, we can make brownies and talk about boys.”
She gazed down at her feet, chin trembling, and for one panicked second, he was sure she was going to cry. Then she lifted her head and nailed him with the power of those direct dark eyes.
“That sounds really fun. I can’t wait to hear about your experiences with boys too. Do you spit or swallow?”
His eyebrows nearly rose right off his head before he started to laugh. Hard. Damn, this woman. She never gave him an inch.
And thank God for that. He’d had way too many people act like he was important or impressive just because his dad made tons of money and his mom got married a lot. The rockstar trip was much the same, although that was a mixture of adulation and feeling overlooked, depending on the day or his marital status.
“Come on in and we’ll talk.” He bent to grab her suitcase and went back up the hall to his door, holding it open so she could pass him.
“Thanks.” She smoothed back her hair and strode forward, stopping on the threshold to gasp. Almost immediately, she started to back up. “I can’t stay here.”
He looped his arm around her shoulders to keep her from backing into the hall. She was practically shaking. “Too late. You already asked and you know I can never say no to you. Besides, don’t you want to know if I swallow?” Before she could move, he bent to whisper against her ear, “If it’s you I’m drinking down, the answer is hell fucking yes.”
Sh
e shut her eyes and just sagged against him. “You didn’t tell me you had a place like this. I mean, I could tell from the doorman, and the ritzy building, and I know you’re in a band and doing well for yourself, but all this?”
“Take a breath before you pass out, all right?” He nudged her farther inside and closed the door behind her. “You forgot a couple of things. My dad is insanely wealthy and lined my diapers with gold thread, and my mom has married a number of rich men, if you’re making a list.”
Chloe covered her face with her hand. “Oh God. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Never say those words. Not in reference to arriving or in reference to, you know, not coming.”
She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re nuts.”
