by Minard, Tori
“I don’t want to let you down,” I said. “I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.”
“But —”
I pressed my forefinger to her lips. They were as soft and warm as they looked. “I promise you I’ll get help as soon as I get back to L.A.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay. Good.”
I smiled at her. “I don’t want to end up in another freezing river. You might not be there next time to pull me out.”
“That’s right.”
“Now you have to promise me something.”
She narrowed her eyes warily. “What’s that?”
“You won’t go back to the douchecanoe, even if he begs.”
Nova laughed. “I can’t see that happening. No, I’ll never go back to him.”
“Good.”
I let my hand descend along her arm, caressing lightly, savoring the feel of her under my touch. Her breath caught. Her eyes dilated and her lip trembled as her gaze rested on my lips. In that moment, I was sure she wanted me.
And I wanted her. God, how I wanted her. I leaned in a little, fascinated by her pretty mouth. It wouldn’t be right to kiss her, though. She might get the godawful bug I had.
Then she jerked backward and tumbled off the bed. I propped myself on an elbow.
“You all right?”
“Yeah.” She rose to her feet, looking abashed. “I’m fine. Um, sorry. You just kind of startled me.”
Hot color stained her cheeks. I was too tired and sick to do anything sexual anyway, but her reaction to my touch deflated me pretty sharply. I must have read her wrong.
That had never happened to me before.
“I just—um—I’d better go.” She motioned vaguely toward the hallway.
“Nova, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. I’m not scared. I just—you know—I’ve got things to do.” She turned and left the room so fast it was like she was running away.
I collapsed onto my back and closed my eyes. What had just happened? I couldn’t figure her out. She didn’t react to me like any other woman I’d ever met and I had no idea what she’d do next.
Why did it even matter to me? I wouldn’t be here very long. I’d go back to L.A. and she’d go back to wherever she’d lived before. It dawned on me that I didn’t know where she was from. I didn’t know anything about her, really. As I’d tried to tell myself earlier, these odd feelings I was having for her weren’t real. They came out of the situation, and didn’t really have much to do with her as a person.
For some reason, that knowledge didn’t make me feel any less attracted to her.
I pulled the blue quilt over myself again. The vomiting seemed to have stopped, for now at least. But my gut was still churning and I didn’t know when I’d need to run to the bathroom again. Until then, I’d try to get some sleep.
The instant that thought was finished, my gut spazzed out again. I threw off the covers and made for the bathroom, hoping that Nova had gone temporarily deaf.
I didn’t like the general public to see—or hear—me this way. I had an image to protect, after all. I was a valuable commodity and I didn’t want to damage my brand by appearing less than perfect in a public place.
This is the opposite of public. It’s almost as private as things can get.
But Nova wasn’t a member of my inner circle. She was an unknown quantity, an outsider, who could potentially reveal embarrassing facts about me to the media. Although she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would do that, money can change people. Certain entertainment news organizations would pay a whole lot for dirt on me.
I wondered what people had made of my disappearance. I’d been gone missing long enough to cause some alarm. My mom was probably losing her mind.
If someone figured out where I was, maybe they could get me out of here. I could go back to civilization, provided they could get a vehicle up here in this storm.
I’d be out of Nova’s life. We’d most likely never see each other again, unless I brought her down to Cali for a visit. I tried to picture Nova staying in my condo, all the usual hangers-on wandering in and out, and couldn’t quite make it work.
No emotional attachment means no visits.
Right. No emotional attachment. I had a hunch that plan wasn’t going to work out at all.
Chapter 16
Sketchbook
Nova:
Gage hobbled out of the bedroom in the middle of the afternoon. He looked pale and exhausted, but he smiled at me. My heart picked up speed at the sight of him. At the moment, all scruffy and unkempt, he didn’t look like a movie star; he just looked like a good-looking guy who was feeling really bad.
He was emphatically off-limits to me. But I couldn’t help my response to him; I got all fluttery every time he was near.
“Can I get a glass of water?” he said. “I’m starting to feel queasy again.”
“Of course. Sit down.”
I brought the glass to the table. His fingers brushed mine when I handed it to him. Although I pretended not to notice, inside I was trembling. Had he done it on purpose? When we were on the bed, I’d thought he was about to kiss me. That was why I scooted backward and fell off the bed like an idiot.
While he’d slept, I’d reminded myself over and over that Gage Dalton was not for me. Allowing myself to crush on him was stupid. It would lead me to some major mistakes if I let it, and I couldn’t afford that. I had a fight on my hands just getting my parents to respect my decision about my career, and loading a teeny-bopper unrequited love on top of it would make everything ten times worse.
Unfortunately, all my sensible good intentions didn’t stop me from bubbling inside with infatuation. How had he done this to me? I’d gone from disliking him to hoping he’d kiss me in less than a day.
It had to be his unmatched gorgeousness. And that voice...deep and smooth and pitched in a way I found ridiculously seductive.
Was he trying to seduce me?
I sneaked a glance at him and found him watching me. My face burned and I got a little more trembly inside.
God, how dumb. I’d watched this guy puking his guts out not so long ago. He was, in his own words, just a regular guy. Before I’d known who he was, I hadn’t been overawed by him. Attracted, yeah, but not a gibbering idiot.
“So you came up here because of your boyfriend?” Gage said.
Barry was not the person I wanted to talk about. “Um...yeah. I wanted to get away, think about some things.”
He glanced out the window. “It must be a good place for thinking.”
“Yeah. Not much else to do around here, except fish.”
“Do you fish?” he said, watching me again.
“Not much. You want some tea instead of plain water?”
“Sure.” He cocked his head, still watching me. “So what’s your major?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“What?” He smiled.
“Nothing. That’s just the most clichéd question on campus.”
“Ah. Kind of like everyone asking what do you do for a living when you’re at a cocktail party?”
“Exactly.” I got out a couple of tea bags.
“Let me guess. Home Ec.”
I had no idea why he’d picked that one. Maybe I looked like the backwoods version of Donna Reed or something. “Nope.” I poured the hot water over the tea. “I’m pre-med.”
“Gonna be a doctor like your parents, huh?”
“That was the plan. Do you like milk and sugar?” I asked as I got the things out for my own cup.
“Sure.”
“Did you go to college?”
He paused. “No, I didn’t. I’ve been too busy working.”
“Oh.” I glanced over my shoulder at him as I stirred the tea. “Do you want to go?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Don’t know what I’d study.”
Had I offended him by asking that question? I hadn’t meant to put him on the spot.
“Well, not everyone needs a degree. I don’t even know if I’ll finish now.”
I brought the mugs to the table and sat down across from him. His big hand closed around one of the cups and dragged it to his side. He even had beautiful fingers, long and well-shaped.
“What are you going to do if you don’t become a doctor?” he said.
“I don’t know. I’ve never given it any thought because I was always going to go to med school.”
As soon as I thought it, though, my heart whispered that I could become an artist. I had no idea how to earn a living that way, or if it was even possible, but it was what spoke to me.
“I draw,” I blurted. “And paint.”
It sounded weird even saying it out loud. My parents had no idea how much time I spent these days practicing my art. I never talked about it with my family.
“An artist,” Gage said. “Cool. Would you let me see your stuff?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I couldn’t look at him. “I’m not very good.”
“So?” He reached across the table and took my hand. “I’d really like to see it sometime.”
His hand felt so good around mine, and of course my silly heart started racing and fluttering and doing some kind of uncoordinated dance all at the same time. Gage was touching me. Me.
Oh, what could it hurt to show him the book? whispered my inner voice.
“I—um—my sketchbook is right there.” I pointed to the windowsill.
He picked up the book. “Is it okay? You’re sure?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
I waited nervously while he leafed through my drawings. He wasn’t saying anything, just pausing to study each one, a serious little frown between his brows. I shouldn’t have let him look. He’d probably seen all kinds of expensive, professional-level art with the lifestyle he lived and my amateurish scribblings wouldn’t interest him.
“Did you do the pieces in the hallway?” he said, his voice so neutral that I had no idea what he was thinking.
“Yeah.”
“You’re really good, Nova.”
I made a pfft sound. He was just trying to make me feel good.
“You are,” he said, more emphatically. “I think you have a lot of talent. You should pursue this.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a perceptive glance. “Did you think I was bullshitting you?”
I shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “I don’t know.” My gaze flickered to his and then away. “I don’t know what to think of you.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.” He touched my hand again. The brush of his skin on mine brought tingles all through my body. “I like you, and I like your work. Not everybody has this kind of talent.”
“Well. Thank you.” I took a sip of tea, trying to cover my confusion.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you’re good?”
“No. I don’t really show my work to most people.”
“Really?” There was a smile in his voice. “Then I’m special, huh?”
“Yes, you are.”
What had made me say that? He didn’t need to know how I felt about him. I almost clapped my hand over my eyes. Instead, I did the less dramatic thing and closed them.
His hand tightened on mine. “I thought you disliked me.”
My eyes flew open. “I don’t dislike you.”
“You’ve been kind of snappish with me.” He smiled engagingly. “Not that I can blame you. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with a puking stranger either.”
“Oh, no. It wasn’t that.” Oops. I should have let it go at the puking. Now we’d have to talk about his personality.
He raised one dark eyebrow. “Then what was it?”
I was pretty sure my face was about to sprout flames. “Nothing. Never mind. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Come on. Tell me.”
I sneaked a look at him. He was still smiling, so maybe I hadn’t pissed him off or hurt him too much. “I guess I thought you were kind of arrogant.”
His smile broadened. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. And difficult.”
“Difficult, huh?”
Why did he think this was funny? It was killing me with embarrassment.
“Well, you did argue with me,” I said in my defense. “And you wouldn’t drink your water.”
“I’m a terrible patient.”
My lips curled up, reluctantly. “Yeah, you are.”
“And I accused you of stealing from me.”
I shook my head. “I can’t really blame you.”
“Yeah, you can. I was being a dick and I’m sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “I really do apologize for that. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“If you don’t believe me, go ahead and search the cabin,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
“The thing is, I wish I had that cash on me,” he said. “So I could give it to you.”
“What? Why would you do that?”
“For taking care of me.”
“I don’t expect money.” I scowled at him. “I did it because it was the right thing to do, not so I could get a reward.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t reward you.” He winked at me. “I would like to reward you, Nova.”
He could make the most innocuous statements sound naughty. But he probably talked to all the girls this way; he was a born playboy and now that I thought about it, I’d heard rumors that he played the field, a different woman on his arm at every event he attended. See? Even I occasionally got hold of some Hollywood gossip.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’m just grateful I was there to help. I hate to think of you ... you know ...”
“Dead?”
“Yeah. That.”
“Me, too.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed me on my knuckles. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that? There aren’t many people like you in the world.”
“Oh, come on.” I scoffed to cover the giddiness that had overtaken me when his lips touched my skin. “Anyone would have done the same thing I did.”
“Not true.” His fingers tightened around mine. “A lot of people would have just ignored what they saw.”
“No.” I shook my head vigorously. “Anyone around here would have jumped in and saved you.”
“Not the people I know.”
Wow. I didn’t know how to respond to that. What kind of friends did he have?
“Did I tell you I’ve been hanging around with a bad crowd?” he said lightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s my own fault.” He began stroking the back of my hand with soft, circular movements of his thumb. “I chose my friends and I did a suck-ass job of it.”
“Why is that?”
He paused, his thumb still caressing my hand. Such a seductive movement, those little circles.
“I got involved with them when I was a lot younger, when I didn’t have any common sense. And then it was just ... what I knew.”
“But ...” I didn’t want to insult him, yet I had to ask. “If you think they’re not good people, why do you keep seeing them?”
His gaze met mine, and I could see the sadness in his eyes, although I didn’t know the reason for it. “That’s a good question. Habit, I guess.”
“Are you going to keep seeing them, now that —”
“I almost died?” he interrupted.
“Yeah.”
His broad shoulders lifted carelessly. “Probably not, except when I can’t avoid it.”
I hardly knew anything about him, yet I had this feeling like I’d known him for years. It was just an effect of being shut up in a cabin with him for days. That and saving his life. Holding him while he was naked and unconscious. Taking care of him while he was sick. But it was a trick, an illusion of intimacy that didn’t really exist. I knew this to be true, yet sitting with him like this, talking quietly, the illusion seemed more real than anything else I’d ever experienced.
“The truth is,”
he said softly, “I wish I had more friends like you.”
Chapter 17
Faking It
Gage:
I could tell when I got up in the morning and saw her sitting at the kitchen table that Nova wasn’t feeling well. It had pushed my self-control to go to bed without at least trying for a kiss from her, but I’d done it. I’d taken my horny ass to bed and tried to forget about seducing her.
She’d gotten all awkward anyway, after I’d told her I wished I had more friends like her. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I could see she didn’t believe me.
Now, looking at her pasty skin and the dark bags under her eyes, I knew I’d given her the stomach flu. And outside, the snow fell just as mercilessly as it had for the past two days. We wouldn’t be able to get out of here and get her medical help any more than we had for me. We were still stuck together, only now I was the one who had to play nurse.
She gave me a listless smile as I came into the kitchen. She’d already started heating some water on the stove, but she was sitting down at the table, her head propped on her hand.
“Not feeling so good, huh?” I said, sitting down opposite her.
“No. I think I have what you had.”
I winced in sympathy and guilt. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault.” She pushed some limp, brown strands from her forehead. “I’m not surprised.”
I didn’t relish the idea of tending a woman who was going through the nastiness I’d just survived. Nursing the sick was not on my resume. But it wouldn’t be right to leave her alone, even if I could have gone. And I couldn’t.
Could Jeremy see me from wherever it was he’d gone? If he could, he was probably laughing his ass off at me. The so-called sexiest man alive holding a girl’s hand while she puked her guts out. And I wasn’t even planning on bagging her. What a joke.
Normally, I’d have bailed on her at this point. I didn’t normally stay with a woman the whole night, let alone hang around to watch her get sick. But Nova was different. I would have stayed even if the roads had been clear. She’d saved my life, and even a selfish prick like me wouldn’t walk away from her when she needed help.
“You’re looking at me like you think I’m going to shrivel up and die,” she said with a wry lift of her lips. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been through the stomach flu before.”