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Ignoring her heated interrogation, and needing to focus on something positive, he said, “Right now you remind me of autumn, do you know that?” While her lips pressed into a tight line, he said, “I was visiting a little girl who’s going through chemo.”
A sad sound escaped her lungs. “I’m sorry. I…”
“You couldn’t have known,” he reassured her. “Is your father really okay? Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that.” She turned in his arms as the elevator stopped, and two couples got on, forcing them closer together. Her hair was pinned up in a bun, secured with what looked like a pen. Several golden tendrils had sprung free, giving her a far more innocent appearance than her attitude conveyed. God she was beautiful, even when she was annoyed. Maybe even more so when she was annoyed, because it brought out the yellow flecks in her eyes and darkened the chocolate hues around the edges. And hell if she didn’t smell like the ocean on a warm summer’s night.
“I’m doing fine.” He lowered his hands to the base of her spine. “Even better now.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t move away. “What happened to the little girl? Is she a friend of yours? The daughter of a friend?”
The elevator stopped again and another person stepped on. There was no need for it, but Dylan pulled her tighter against him, and she looked at him with a smirk that told him how ridiculous she thought he was. Ridiculous or not, he’d found the perfect remedy for finding his happy place, and it came in a five-seven or -eight curvy package of attitude and arousal. The fact that Tiffany needed him about as much as a camel needed water wasn’t lost on him. But he wasn’t about to try to analyze that right now.
“Bethany’s nine,” he explained. “I met her through the volunteer program at the Ronald McDonald House. She has Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and had a setback tonight.” As he told her what Bethany had been through, and how he’d become close with her family, Tiffany’s hands—one of which held her trusty phone—curled around his arms. In the space of a breath he saw a softer side of her come out from under her steely exterior. The tension in her body eased, her eyes filled with empathy, and the fortitude that she wore like a badge of honor seemed to slip away, leaving an unguarded, compassionate woman whose buzzing phone had suddenly been forgotten.
“That poor little girl,” she said as the elevator stopped at the lobby and the doors opened. The elevator cleared out, bringing cooler air into the confined space, but neither one released their hold and the temperature spiked. Tiffany’s eyes darkened. The flush of desire rose on her cheeks, making her look even more feminine.
Dylan couldn’t stop his thoughts from tumbling out. “You are so beautiful right now. So completely unguarded and real.” He lifted his hand to her cheek and her mouth opened, as if she was going to say something, but no sound came.
She dropped her gaze to her hands on his arms, one of which still held her now-silent phone. Her expression changed to one of confusion, as if she had no idea how her hands had ended up there.
She took a step back, out of the elevator, her hands drifting to her sides. “We should probably get a cab.” Absently running a hand down her jeans, she wiped away some invisible offending dust.
Vulnerability dust.
“Here, let me get that,” he said, stepping off the elevator beside her.
He was enjoyingunguardedTiffany, and he wanted that side of her to remain exposed for a little while longer. Moving closer, he ran his hands down her hips, then up again, coming to rest on her waist. Her breathing quickened. The air between them pulsed with heat. Her gaze sharpened as fast as a summer storm. Her shoulders squared, and her pretty little chin with the dimple in the center lifted ever so slightly. But even with all that control, she couldn’t subdue the slight tremble he felt beneath his hands.
“Do you mind?” she said with slightly less annoyance than she’d shown him earlier.
“Do you?” He gathered her in his arms. All around them people milled about, moving in and out of the elevators, down the corridors, toward the front doors, but Dylan only saw the beautiful, interesting, complex woman in his arms.
She opened her mouth, then shut it again.
“Right now you’re not mysummer girl,” he said without thinking. It was a bad habit of his. Some people made rude, unfiltered remarks. Dylan’s heart often slipped right out.
Her brows knitted ever so slightly.
“You’re myautumn. Changing right before my eyes.”
TIFFANY COULDN’T BREATHE. Dylan’s superpowers were at it again, and no matter how hard she tried to right her brain, his words made her stumble.No onemade her stumble. Ever. But Dylan was frighteningly intense in the most unexpected ways. He smiled and it wasn’t just a kind, sexy smile. It carried a slight smirk. Enough of a smirk to kick her neurons into firing again. God, she was an idiot foralmostfalling for his pathetic line.
“Wow. I thought I’d heard all the pickup lines, but you’re good.Autumn? Who says things like that?”
He took her hand in his very large, very strong one and kissed the back of it, lifting one shoulder in a modest shrug. “I guess I do. How about that cab?”
“Such a player,” she said as he led her out the doors and into the night. Why was she letting him hold her hand? “Do those lines work for you?”
“You tell me. It’s the first time I’ve ever used it.”
“Right.” She laughed. “No man is that smooth.”
He tugged her against him again so hard she caught herself on his chest.His exquisitely hard, broad chest. He smelled spicy and manly, as he had last night, clearing away a few more brain cells.
The muscles in his jaw jumped, and he spoke sternly. “I’m not smooth. Those words came honestly.”
A nervous scoff bubbled up before she could stop it, and she winced at the rude sound.
