AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I did and I meant it. I’m sorry.”
I believe him and I want to ask him why he said those things to me, but there are people around us, scurrying about. This isn’t the place. “Thank you for saying that,” I say simply instead. “And I’m sorry, too.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I said things I should not have and all you did was react. I’ll get our bags.”
He releases me and walks toward the conveyor. A pretty, dirty blonde female dressed in business attire points him out to another woman, and they tilt their heads together conspiratorially. They’re talking about Tyler. Of this, I have no doubt. And how can I blame them? What a sight he is—his ass in those jeans is nothing shy of perfect. And the way he carries himself is pure dominance, with a touch of that arrogance of his that can be as irritating as it is sexy. It blasts a message that saysI can fuck you until you beg for more.And considering my limited experience with him, I believe that’s true.
Tyler retrieves my bag, and then his. He’s about to return to me when one of the women—a brunette in a short skirt and heels—walks up to him and points at her suitcase, clearly asking for help. She saw him with me, but she’s blatantly hitting on him. There is a distinct pinch in my chest I can only call jealousy, at least if I’m honest with myself and I try to be. Tyler walks around the luggage belt, grabs her bag, and sets it down for her. She starts talking to him, gazing up at him with lusty eyes.
Bitch.
He reaches for his phone, and my stomach knots with the idea that they’re exchanging numbers. That is until I see him glance at the screen, as if he’d received a message, and hope blossoms in me that what I thought was happening is not.
He says something to the woman and then starts walking back to me, his expression focused on what is before him, not behind. He’s already dismissed her. I can read this in him. He stops in front of me and says, “The driver is out front waiting on us. I don’t know about you, but I’m done with airports today.”
I blow off the woman, just as I believe he has. “Probably not as done as you,” I say as we walk toward the door. “I slept. You didn’t.”
“I slept about an hour. It was enough.” He opens the door for me, and I can’t explain it, but there is a shift in the air between us. The tension of before has transformed into something far more old and comfortable and yet somehow, new and unknown. Even when we settle into the back of the SUV, sitting a respectable distance from each other just doesn’t feel as far away as it did on the way to the airport.
It’s nearly nine o’clock, which would seem to be a good time to miss traffic, but this is LA, and we end up with slow-going travel. About halfway to our final destination, the Four Seasons, Tyler’s cellphone rings. He glances at his phone, a tight knot forming in his jaw as he punches in a number. “I just landed in LA. We’re going to have to talk tomorrow, but tell me you have something good to tell me.”
After a short pause, he says, “I think you need to open a dictionary and look up the meaning of good versus crap.” Another pause and he says, “I get it. Time is ticking. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He hangs up and he doesn’t look at me.
I’m an instinctual person, who reads people and situations well. My mother would have told you I inherited it from her. My father would say it’s from him. I say it’s from both. Right now,those instincts are telling me I’ve been drowning in hormones and missing the obvious. That shield Tyler hides behind is mighty, but it doesn’t hide the truth. Tyler is not okay at all.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bella
I draw in a breath, hyperaware of Tyler’s mood on the remainder of the ride to the hotel, expecting more biting words meant to shelter him and drive me away. Almost as if he felt me getting too close, and his instinct was—is, most likely—to push me away. Because one thing I know is that Tyler’s life has not been my life at all. He expects betrayal and challenges from his family, not the love and support I do with mine. He’s been taught those who are closest to you can hurt you most.
Which is true. They just shouldn’t.
The truth is that I’m not sure what to expect from Tyler. I’m not even sure what I want to happen. But his apology sings a new song in my mind now, the lyrics dark and tormented, written by a man battered by anger, remorse, and guilt. This is the song of a man who is haunted by demons, some of his own creation, and others by his own father. These demons hold swords meant to cut him down to a lesser being.
But as time stretches in the wake of his phone call, I sense none of what I anticipated in Tyler at all. We finally bypass the traffic and arrive at the Four Seasons after ten o’clock. The driver pulls us to the front door of the hotel, and an employee opens Tyler’s door, but not mine. This time when Tyler exits the vehicle, I follow and when he offers me his hand again, and my eyes meet his, it’s as if a magnetic force as alpha and demanding as Tyler himself, drags us together. It’s a force I cannot resist and therefore there is no hesitation in me. I press my hand to his, warm all over with his touch, with the intimacy of the moment. His large fingers close around mine, and he holds ontome, walking me to him. When I’m in front of him, close enough to lean into him but far enough that our bodies do not touch outside of our hand, he tilts his head down, inhaling as if he just wants to breathe me in.
A shiver races up my spine, and I can feel him in every part of me. “Bella,” he says softly, “you need to know—”
“Your tickets for your bags,” the doorman offers, cutting off what he might have said.
I am left hanging on a limb, waiting for what feels like a confession, or maybe it’s simply a warning about him and sex for sex. I can’t know. Tyler releases me and turns to the other man. “We only have a few bags. I’ve got them.” He palms the man a tip.
I grab my purse and roller bag, but Tyler claims my larger bag as well as his own items, maneuvering the load toward the door and then into the lobby. “I’ll check us in,” he says, indicating a couch. “You wait.”
I nod because I can’t seem to find my voice. It, and every part of my body, is presently being ravished by a wild and wicked mix of nerves and lust for Tyler Hawk.But I’m not going to sleep with him, I tell myself. It doesn’t matter that the heat is burning us alive. I have to think about the damage to our work relationship. His sex-is-sex motto works for him, but it’s never going to work for me. Of course, everything about me and relationships is confusing right now. I want one, but I don’t believe in love. So, what is it that I really want? Do I even know?
Tyler Hawk.
I want him.
In a futile effort to distract my mind frommy boss—and heismy boss—I glance around the hotel, with all its glitz and glamour, but I’m unaffected. I mean, yes, it’s gloriously decorated, and the hotel is favored by talent and executives for business meetings, but I’ve seen it all before. I’m also notimpressed by Hollywood in general, but then it’s not all that unfamiliar to me. Not only is Nashville its own version of Hollywood, but I also grew up in the world of NASCAR, and cameras and my father’s fans were just always a part of our world. I’m comfortable around fame. And being comfortable in this world has served me well. I’m not asking for an autograph, but rather a signature on the dotted line.
Tyler finishes up at the registration desk and joins me, offering me a room key. “You’re all set. Go get some rest. I’m going to grab a drink and then do the same.”
It’s a dismissal, but it doesn’t read like what he really wants, though I don’t know what to say either. “Okay,” I say. “Goodnight.”This is the right decision, I tell myself. It’s theright decision. I grab my bag and turn away from him, walking toward the elevator. Oh God, I want him to follow, and I can feel his eyes on me, but not the warmth of his body. There is emptiness in my wake. He’s not following me.
With a lurch of my stomach, I reach the elevator bank and punch the button, but I don’t look in Tyler’s direction. I don’t want to know that he’s not there. The doors open and I step inside. It’s a fast, lonely ride, and when I reach my floor, I hurry to my room in desperate need of a private place to gather my emotions. I unlock the door and step inside to what is a stunning suite, and not one of the lower-end ones. Tyler gave me what has to be a next-level Presidential Suite. So what room is he in?
