by Lucy Ryder
“You’re welcome.”
Surprised and a little confused, she blinked up at him. “Huh?”
“I said you’re welcome.”
It took Paige a couple seconds to compute. “You?” she said, gaping at him. “You’re the—?”
“Cleaning faerie.”
Immediately an image of Tyler Reese dressed in a pink tutu, tights, wings and a crown popped front and center in her mind. Before she could stop it, a snort emerged and by the expression on his face—speechless and a little pissy—her reaction was clearly as unwelcome as it was unexpected.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her amusement but it just grew and grew until it finally burst out of her. In seconds she was howling with laughter.
In fact, she laughed so much she had to sit down, plopping back down on the lounger. After a few minutes she calmed down enough to see through tears of mirth. His expression of annoyed exasperation mixed with reluctant amusement nearly set her off again but she managed to keep it to a couple of strangled chuckles. Finally she sighed and wiped her eyes. She hadn’t laughed like that in ages. It felt good. Almost as good as seeing him at a loss for words. She bet that didn’t happen very often.
“You about done?” he inquired politely.
She grinned up at him, all her previous fatigue forgotten.
“I bet you look awesome in a pink tutu and tights.” She ran her eyes over his wide, sculpted chest and shoulders and had to remind herself that Tyler Reese was the hottest thing she’d seen since she’d been seventeen and her brother Quinn had brought home a SEAL friend for the holidays. She’d stupidly fallen for a pretty face and a hot body, only to have her heart broken when he’d pursued everything with breasts. Everything except her, of course.
She cringed at the memory of practically throwing herself at him, although to be fair she’d been a little young—and a lot inexperienced—for him. But he’d barely noticed when she’d worn her brand-new bikini, ruffling her hair like she’d been six or something. She’d made sure it was the last time she’d been home when one of her brothers brought home a friend.
Fortunately she wasn’t seventeen and had had a few—some kind of serious—relationships over the years but she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for another BAB because of sexy blue eyes and a warm hard body.
No way…no matter how good a kisser he was.
Good? Try out-of-this-world spectacular. But guys like Ty Reese and Dean Walker barely noticed her beyond the fact that she was Quinn’s cute little sister…or…or the annoying neighbor they wanted to ignore.
She sighed. Yep. Story of her life.
Because she couldn’t take all eight mugs at once, Paige hurried into the house with four and made a beeline for the kitchen. The coffee was finished and a delicious aroma filled the air, reminding her that she’d barely eaten all day. Her stomach growled loudly.
“Caffeine, then I promise to feed you,” she muttered to her stomach. Or maybe a cold shower, she thought, rolling her eyes at the blood still pumping through her veins at warp speed. The darned man was potent and the only way to keep her heart safe was to avoid him like mildew.
She poured coffee into her favorite mug, turning to the fridge for milk, and promptly collided with a human wall. She lurched back with a shriek and bumped into the counter, spilling scalding coffee over her hand.
She managed a painful gasp before Ty whisked the mug away and shoved her whole hand and half her arm under the cold tap.
“What—what the heck are you doing?” She gaped up at him as water splashed everywhere.
“That was careless of you,” he murmured deeply into her hair, sending an army of goose-bumps marching down her spine. And because it left her backed into the corner of the counter, surrounded by delicious masculine heat, the goose-bumps morphed into arrows of heat pinging in her belly.
Oh, heck, no.
“Me?” she demanded on an outraged squeak as she tried to yank her hand free. No tingling, pinging or melting allowed, dammit. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on me?”
He sent her a chiding look that said she should be thanking him, not giving him a hard time. Yeah, right.
“Fortunately you’re not holding a knife.”
“I could always get one,” she muttered defensively. “Fortunately for you I’m too hungry to fight with you.”
He gave a soft grunt and muttered something that sounded like, “Too bad, I wouldn’t mind seeing you try.” And reached over to snag a kitchen towel. With her palm gently cradled in his he proceeded to dry her hand and arm. “It’s a little red but no permanent damage done. You should be more careful.”
“I wouldn’t have to be careful if people stopped sneaking up on me,” she muttered, her gaze on the dark silky head bent over her hand. Her fingers looked pale and delicate in his, making her feel excruciatingly feminine and, darn it, sending sensation zipping up her arm.
He looked up then and before she knew it, she was drowning in his startling blue eyes.
“Um…” she said, locking her knees against the urge to melt at his feet—wouldn’t he just love that? His pupils widened until only a thin ring of blazing blue remained and before she knew it her mind went utterly blank.
Finally he took a step back and shoved a hand through his hair, rumpling the already tousled strands. “Why don’t…?” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Why don’t you change out of those…um, wet scrubs and I’ll take you to dinner?”
Paige’s eyes widened at the unexpected invitation. “You mean like a…a date?” But when his answer was to turn and stare at her as though she’d suggested something illegal, Paige cringed inside, wishing she could recall her words. Yeesh. Was she a sucker for punishment or what?
“No, I mean like dinner…between…” His breath whooshed out and he looked a little panicked. “I mean, you’re hungry, I’m hungry and I’d like… I’ve seen the contents of your refrigerator.” And when she continued to stare at him, he growled, “Dammit, you want dinner or not?”
“I want,” she said primly, secretly pleased that she’d managed to rattle him because—if she wasn’t mistaken—he’d definitely been about to kiss the socks off her. “But I warn you, I’m starving. And I want dessert.”
A dark brow rose up his forehead. “Dessert?”
“Yep.” She nodded, pushing away from the counter and heading for the door. “And wine. Lots of wine.”
*
Ty took her to a steak house on the waterfront, mostly because he was craving steak and the Surf ’n Turf served the best in town, but also because it had a great view of the harbor.
Okay, and maybe he’d been a little bored and was looking for company. He, Tyler Reese, king of the I-want-to-be-aloners was sick to death of his own company. He needed a distraction and who better to distract him than his very distracting neighbor?
She was sexy and feisty and she made him smile when he hadn’t felt like smiling for a long time. There was just something about her that drew him in despite himself. Earlier on the deck he’d wanted to kiss her more than he’d wanted his next breath and the overwhelming impulse to take her there in front of the entire marina had scared him.
Okay, try terrified, because Paige Carlyle didn’t strike him as the fling type. His parents should never have married, partly because his father was a workaholic and forgot he had a family but mostly because his mother didn’t know the meaning of compromise. She’d grown up wealthy and had expected Henry Chapman to keep her in the style to which she’d been accustomed. And while he’d tried, by working around the clock, she’d resented any time he spent away from her.
For a long time Ty had resented that too because he’d had to live with the fallout when his mother’s marriages imploded. As a kid he’d been dragged from one house and stepfather to the next. He’d had no say in any of it and had vowed that once he grew up he’d be the one in control.
His accident had made him feel like a kid again, helpless against the whims of others. So he
’d take Paige to dinner and when he left her at her door at the end of the evening, that would be that.
He’d stay away—for good this time.
It was still early and the dinner crowd was thin but Paige looked around with interest, giving Ty the impression that she hadn’t been there before. Why that idea appealed to him, he had no idea. It wasn’t even like this was a real date.
A bouncy teenager dressed in jeans and a Surf ’n Turf golf shirt approached and cheerfully asked where they would like to sit. She took one look at Ty and blushed, fumbled the menus and blushed even more when she dropped them.
Paige bent to help and with a quick laugh rose to her feet, chattering about how she’d love a view of the harbor. The waitress hurried over to a window table and stuttered when she handed Ty a menu and nearly took out his eye.
After she left, Paige said reproachfully, “You scared her.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“You’re wearing your inscrutable surgeon’s face. Some people find it scary.”
Clearly she didn’t consider herself “some people” because she never hesitated to tell him off. He found it a refreshing change from all the people—women especially—who wanted to appease him.
Paige Carlyle didn’t strike him as an appeaser.
“You mentioned something the other day about growing up with three brothers.”
“Uh-huh.”
After a couple of beats of silence, he reached out a finger and pushed the plastic-coated menu down until he could see her eyes. He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her shuttered expression when she was usually so easy to read.
“What?”
“Mother, father, brothers?”
She tried to tug her menu away but when he held on, she growled at him.
“Fine,” she said huffily. “Dad is living with his new wife and family in Tacoma. Bryn is the manager of a San Diego football team, Eric’s a Navy SEAL and Quinn’s in the Air Force.”
“And your mother? Is she also remarried?”
“No,” she said flatly, a faint frown marring the smooth skin of her forehead. “She…um…she died when I was young.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, dropping his hand. “I can see that it’s still painful.”
“Yes, well.” She gave a ragged laugh. “What was even more painful was that less than two years later my father remarried and I suddenly had another family I didn’t need or want.” She shook her head. “He didn’t even wait two years before…well, never mind,” she dismissed quickly, taking a gulp of water the waitress had delivered. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear the boring details of my sad and lonely adolescence.”
She drew in a shaky breath and he could see her shake off her painful thoughts. When she next looked at him her eyes were huge and liquid in the soft lighting as they met his and he felt himself fall just a little bit. Before he could catch himself, she asked, “What about you?”
Huh? “Me?”
“How bad is it?”
He shook his head to dispel the notion that she was bewitching him and that he was letting her. He stilled, a thread of panic winding its way through his chest. Not just no way, but no way in hell. He was letting the atmosphere—and memories of his own sad and lonely childhood—affect him, that’s all.
“It?”
She lowered her lashes and the lacy pattern they made on her cheeks drew his fascinated gaze until she murmured, “Your injury,” abruptly jolting him out of the sensual haze she was spinning with her eyes.
Cursing himself for behaving like a love-struck adolescent, Ty hitched a shoulder. “Only time will tell,” he said casually to hide the churning in his gut. Dammit. He needed to get a grip before Little Miss Medic had him rolling over and begging for treats.
Tyler Reese, rising trauma surgeon, didn’t beg for anything from anyone…least of all women. He was in control. Like always.
She nibbled on her lip, clearly wanting to say something more. And just when he thought she was going to offer her sympathy—or, worse, get him to talk about his feelings—she said, “So, you really washed my mugs and cleaned the deck?”
He sighed, a mix of relief, gratitude and impatience that she was still an annoying pain in the ass. “Why should that surprise you?”
She shrugged, flashing him a guilty look before retreating behind her menu. “No reason,” she said quickly. “No reason at all except…”
“Except what?”
“Well, you’re a surgeon,” she said impatiently, as though that was reason enough.
Tired of talking to plastic, he whipped the menu away and demanded, “What does being a surgeon have to do with cleaning up after myself?”
“Well, technically it was cleaning up after me,” she said primly, and when he just stared at her, Paige continued. “You have to ask? Really?” She sighed. “Fine. Surgeons don’t exactly have a reputation for cleaning up messes. They swoop in like demi-gods, save the injured and dying with their mad, awesome skills and then disappear, leaving the grunt work to the rest of us peons.”
“Us peons? You’re a pediatrician. What’s peon-ish about that?”
She sniffed and stole his menu out from under his nose. “Surgical rotation,” she explained, looking pleased with her sneakiness. She was silent a couple of beats before saying casually, “So did you?”
Confused by her rapid changes of direction, he asked, “Did I what?”
She rolled her eyes like he was being deliberately obtuse. “Wash my mugs and clean my deck.”
“Technically the deck is half-mine—okay, fine,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “The place was a mess. All I did was stick the mugs in the dishwasher and pay a kid ten bucks to clean the deck. No big deal.”
She choked and stared at him, her eyes going huge. “T-ten bucks? You paid a kid ten bucks to clean the deck? Yeesh. I would have done it for ten bucks.”
He snorted but before he could point out that she was a specialist and must be earning good money, the waitress arrived to take their order.
He ordered wine and the biggest rare steak on the menu with a side salad while Paige ordered the lady’s steak with fries and vegetables. When the food came, Ty watched her face light up as she tucked right in. Clearly she hadn’t been kidding about being starved.
After a few seconds she realized he was staring at her and paused with her fork halfway to her mouth.
“What?” she demanded, looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I’m hungry, okay?” She grimaced and put down her fork as though realizing she’d been almost inhaling her food. “ER was so busy today I didn’t get a chance to eat or drink,” she said a little defensively.
“What are you doing in ER if you’ve already specialized in pediatrics?”
Paige’s sigh did amazing things to the simple cut of her bodice and just about fried a couple of billion brain cells. Brain cells that he would need if he was going to have to make tough decisions about his future…or resist the sensual web she was spinning around him.
Completely oblivious to his burgeoning brain aneurysm, she said, “Money,” on a rush of expelled air and a flush of embarrassment.
“Money?” He was surprised. He hadn’t pegged her as the kind of woman who’d pursue a career for money. But, then, he’d been wrong about women before, so what the hell did he know? “Surely you can’t be earning much here. In fact, I know that working in the city would pay a hell of a lot more.”
An odd look clouded her features before she reluctantly admitted, “It’s not that.” She was silent a moment before shrugging and picking up her fork to poke at her food. “I had a scholarship so…”
“Ah.” He nodded in comprehension. “So you have to go where they tell you.”
“Yes. Fortunately, I was sent here.” She turned to look at the scene outside the restaurant window. Lights lit up the harbor and boardwalk, reflecting off the water and the boats moored there. He knew without looking what she saw. A pretty, picturesque
town nestled between the Straits of Juan de Fuca and the Olympic National Park. “I know someone who was sent to a one-horse town in the middle of nowhere where mountain men grunt, spit and scratch themselves in public. Believe me, this is paradise.”
She pushed her plate aside and before he knew what she was doing she’d pulled his plate closer and was cutting his steak into bite-size pieces. “I have another year to go and until then I have to put in my time in ER where I’m needed.”
A little disconcerted by her actions, he said absently, “I can speak to my father—”
“No,” she said firmly, interrupting him before he could finish his sentence. “Thank you, but a contract is a contract. Besides, I’ve got this.”
Amusement and admiration warred with exasperation at her fierce independence. “I’m sure you have,” he said mildly. “But it’s not a sign of weakness to accept help once in a while.”
“It is if it comes with strings,” she retorted.
“Strings?” He was confused for a couple of beats and then his jaw dropped at her implication. “You think my father would…?” The idea was shocking and something he’d never, never considered. Could Henry Chapman be capable…?
“What? No!” She gaped at him, clearly just as shocked by his suggestion. “What a terrible thing to say about your own father.”
He was mollified by her angry denial until he thought of something else that made his stomach cramp. “You can’t mean that I would…?”
“No!” A wild flush of horror and mortification heated her cheeks. “I didn’t mean that either,” she muttered, attacking the steak with renewed vigor. “Jeez.”
Thoroughly confused, Ty searched Paige’s expression for clues about what she meant but she’d hidden behind a swing of silky black hair. “Then what the hell did you mean?” he demanded.
Without replying, she shoved his plate back across the table, glaring at him as though he’d suggested something indecent. Which, of course, he had and it had completely freaked him out thinking of his father and—No, not going to think about…that.
Too freaky.
Another thing that was just as disturbing was thinking about Paige with someone who’d demand payment for doing a small favor.
