Smitten by the Brit--A Sometimes in Love Novel
Page 6
“Oh?” She fell into step with him as they exited the tea room. “And what were your intentions?”
“I was merely offering the pleasure of my company to escort you to”—he waved a hand toward the lobby doors—“wherever it is you are going.”
“Why?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Because…” He faltered. “Because it’s the polite thing to do,” he finished weakly.
“How about this,” Bonnie said, one corner of her mouth curling, the curve of her cheek ripe with mischief. “Since it’s, as you say, the polite thing to do, and since we’re in my city, how about I accompany you?”
“I suppose that would work.” Theo nodded. He’d wanted to spend more time with her. This was his opportunity. He was going to seize it.
“It’s settled, then.” She relaxed, dropping her arms and passing through the hotel’s revolving door.
“Yes,” he agreed, following right behind her.
They stood on the street outside the Drake, staring at each other. He was at a loss for what to do next. Should he take her arm? Or would that set her off, launching her into another declaration of independence and self-sufficiency? Was he such a prig to assume it only proper to offer to escort a lady home? To pull out a chair for her? Hold the door? Take her arm when walking?
She solved the arm dilemma by taking his. Bonnie sidled up next to him, slipping her hand under his elbow and curling her fingers around his biceps. He stared at her hand, resting on his upper arm. A pleasant heat curled through him at the sight. He liked the way she looked next to him—liked the way she felt against him—entirely too much.
“Well?” she demanded.
“Sorry?” He glanced down at her, caught off guard by the startling blue of her eyes. She was so fair, her skin almost glowed, saved from being too pale by the delightful smattering of freckles dusting her cheeks and kissing the bridge of her nose.
The freckles bunched as her nose crinkled. “Um, Theo?”
“Yes?” he asked, distracted by her nose. It was adorable, sloping up slightly at the end and giving her a playful, elfish air. He wanted to kiss her there, bend forward and plant a peck on that cute little spot.
“You need to tell me where it is I am accompanying you to.”
“Oh, right. The Waldorf.” He turned with her, heading for the streetlight on the corner.
“The Waldorf between State and Rush?”
“Ah, I believe that’s the one. Do you know it?”
“I do…” She tightened her hold on his arm, forcing him to a stop.
Pedestrians swarmed around them, jostling as they passed. He glanced down at her, concern rising in his chest. She seemed paler than before, her freckles standing out in stark relief, her blue eyes wide. “Is something amiss?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly, glancing up at him, a smirk curling in the corner of her mouth. “You were going the wrong way.” Hand still wrapped around his arm, she turned around, tugging him in the opposite direction. As she moved forward again, she seemed to shake off whatever had been bothering her, and the color returned to her cheeks. Or maybe that was the blasted wind, blowing in off the lake, straight into his face, stinging his skin, making his eyes water and whipping her hair into a frenzy around them both.
He squeezed his burning eyes shut and let her guide him through the bustling throngs. Theo was out of his element here, literally. He was used to navigating blustery London weather and bustling London crowds, but Chicago was different. There was an aggressive energy to this city he’d never felt back home. To be honest, he was glad of her company. He cracked an eye open and cast a sideways glance at her, noting her quick, confident stride.
Unable to resist, his gaze strayed lower, relishing the glimpses of thigh revealed as each step tugged her hem above her knee for a tantalizingly brief moment. She was on the shorter side, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, and yet her legs ate up the sidewalk. Theo had to actively work to keep pace with her. Though lagging behind had its benefits too, he thought, ogling the lush curve of her bum beneath the smooth fabric of her skirt.
Forcing his gaze away, he quickened his step to match hers and took in his surroundings. Towering buildings lined the sidewalk to his right. Beyond the traffic-packed street to their left, the bold blue of the lake stretched all the way to the horizon. Above them, the late afternoon sun sank toward the line of buildings in the west. It was getting late.
Disappointment washed over him. He’d hoped to have more time with Bonnie, maybe invite her to the hotel lounge for a drink before he had to get ready for the event with Camille tonight.
“How much farther?” he asked as they waited for traffic to pass at a crosswalk.
She startled, as if she’d been lost in her own thoughts. “A few more minutes,” she said, tugging on his arm and pulling him into the intersection.
He resisted, planting his feet at the edge of the curb. The signal had changed, giving them the right of way, but cars were still streaming past.
She tugged harder. “Come on, let’s go.” She moved forward, and he had no choice but to move with her. Around them, the crowd surged forward, crossing the street. Cars came to a reluctant halt, mere millimeters from striking pedestrians who seemed unfazed by the possibility of imminent death.
Safely on the other side, Theo stopped short. “Are you all insane?”
She released his arm, squeezing closer as the crowd continued to stream past them. “What are you talking about?”
He waved an arm toward the intersection.
She glanced back and then shrugged. “If you don’t go, they’ll never stop.”
“There are traffic signals,” he sputtered. “Rules!”
She snorted with laughter. “What, you think because the light changes, and drivers are supposed to stop, they will? Maybe even wave you through with a polite cheerio? Not happening. This is Chicago. The only way a car stuck in downtown gridlock is going to stop is if you go.”
“But what if they don’t stop?” he asked, still shaken at how the soft, sweet woman next to him had dragged them into the path of oncoming traffic without an ounce of hesitation. “What if they keep coming?”
Bonnie laughed again, reclaiming his arm. “Hopefully, you survive the impact.”
“And then?”
“And then you make them pay.”
“How?”
“As my uncle Donnie once explained it,” she said, her voice taking on masculine swagger and an unfamiliar accent with a hint of something he recognized as Irish. “You got two choices.”
“Which are?” Theo wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
She snorted and curled her lip. “You either sue their ass or kick it.”
Theo shook his head but let her continue leading him down the sidewalk. “Bloody uncivilized Yanks.”
“Don’t let any of the Blythe boys hear you say that,” Bonnie warned, sidestepping a street vendor with ease.
It was unlikely he’d ever meet this pugilistic Uncle Donnie, or any other members of Bonnie’s extended family. Still, he found himself curious. “Why’s that?”
“My cousins are diehard South Side Irish.” She grinned. “Chicago first, Ireland second, America third.”
“Duly noted.” Theo matched her grin. “And for the record,” he added, placing his hand over hers, still resting on his arm, “nobody says ‘cheerio’ anymore. It’d be like me saying ‘howdy, pardner,’ or some such nonsense.”
“Duly noted,” she echoed, her grin sliding into a teasing smirk, “pardner.”
CHAPTER 8
AS THEY STEPPED off the sidewalk and entered the Waldorf’s brick-paved courtyard, Bonnie plotted her escape. She didn’t want Theo to know she was staying in the same hotel. First of all, she didn’t want to have to explain why she was staying in a hotel. And second, she didn’t think it was wise to reveal she was sleeping under the same roof as the too-charming Brit. As if letting him know she was also staying here would be akin t
o inviting him to her room or something.
The noise of the city was muted here, and their steps echoed on the brick cobblestones lining the courtyard. She cast a glance sideways, unable to resist admiring his profile. She could admit, from a purely objective standpoint of course, that Theo was a very handsome man. Tall and lean, but with wide shoulders filling out his suit jacket, his crisp Oxford shirt stretching snug across his broad chest.
Bonnie didn’t have to imagine what that chest and shoulders looked like; she knew. She’d been standing in the hallway of a hotel in London when he’d opened the door to his room, dressed in nothing but a towel. The way she could recall the encounter in perfect detail, one would think she had a photographic memory. Still wet from a shower, his thick locks of hair dripped, the water beading on his chest, rolling down his abdomen, droplets following the trail of dark hair below his navel and disappearing beneath the white cotton wrapped around his waist …
She sucked in a lungful of bracing spring air and pulled up short a few steps from the hotel’s entrance. “Well, then. Here we are.” She smiled up at him, trying not to notice how the late afternoon sunshine slanted over the buildings at just such an angle to shine on his face, making his blue eyes sparkle.
“Fancy a drink?” he asked, nodding his head toward the hotel. “To thank you for accompanying me through the dangerous intersections.” He grinned.
Heaven help her. “I shouldn’t … I mean, I couldn’t.” She stumbled over her words.
He quirked a brow. “Which is it?” His grin widened, and a dimple appeared.
Immediately, the backs of her knees tickled, prickling with heat. “Can’t,” she said more firmly.
“I see.” His face fell. “Forgive me, I’m sure you have other obligations to attend to.” His gaze wandered to her left hand.
Bonnie flexed her fingers inside her gloves. No, she was not relieved he couldn’t see she wasn’t wearing her engagement ring. Fine, she was. But only because it saved her from having to explain anything. “I really should be going,” she said, pasting a hasty smile on her face. “It was nice running into you. Again.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” he assured her.
Somehow, the line coming from him was endearing and not smarmy. Theo had a way of doing that. He reached for her hand, and she quickly thrust out her right. He took it, but rather than place a polite kiss on her gloved fingers, he turned her palm up and brushed his lips across the inside of her wrist, at the patch of bare skin between her glove and coat.
Oh. The prickling intensified, and her legs wobbled.
She yanked her hand back. “Well. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” She risked a glance up at him. “You know, with Cassie and Logan. For wedding stuff.”
“Right,” he agreed, watching her, “wedding stuff.”
“Okay then … bye!” She turned on her heel, hoping she didn’t look as awkward as she felt, and hurried out of the courtyard. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
She kept up the mantra until she reached the sidewalk but couldn’t resist one last glance over her shoulder as she eased into the crowd. Framed in a sliver of golden sunshine, Theo was still standing in the courtyard, the weight of his intense blue gaze landing unerringly on her.
Locking her knees, She forced her legs to keep moving and disappeared into the sea of pedestrians. Instead of stopping in the coffee shop as she’d originally planned, Bonnie kept walking, waiting for the tingling sensation to wear off. She rounded the corner and headed up State Street, knees still prickling.
The problem was, she couldn’t stop thinking about Theo and his charming manners and his charming smile and his charming eyes. The man was a freaking British tea bag steeped in charm, and those darn dashing dimples of his turned her legs to jelly. She walked faster. Fifteen minutes later, cheeks cold and chapped from the brisk spring wind blowing in off the lake, Bonnie entered the Waldorf courtyard again, nodded to the bewildered doorman, and strode inside.
As she made her way through the lobby, she started another mental to-do list. Focused on ticking off boxes in her head, she almost missed the tall dark-haired man standing at the bank of elevators, his broad back to her.
She knew that back, knew those shoulders and that perfectly combed head of hair. She’d waved goodbye to that head a quarter of an hour ago.
What the hell is he still doing downstairs? A squeak of frustration escaped her. Theo’s head snapped up. Bonnie panicked. Before those dashing blue eyes turned in her direction, she backpedaled, scurrying into one of the many alcoves lining the lobby.
Huddled on the bench in the recessed space, she held her breath, listening intently for the ding of an elevator. Knowing her luck, he’d come investigate, if for no other reason than because she’d find it inconvenient. Any second now, his head would appear around the alcove, gorgeous blue eyes curious. He’d ask what she was doing there, and she’d say …
She’d say …
She’d say she had to use the restroom. All that tea at the Drake, you know? Then he’d smile that dimpled smile of his, and her knees would turn to water, and oh, for heaven’s sake, Bonnie, how do you get yourself into these situations?
The elevator bell chimed, and Bonnie popped her head up. After the hushed whoosh of the doors sliding closed, she counted to ten, and then set her feet on the floor. She crept around the edge of the alcove. The coast was clear.
Phew. She hurried forward to catch the next elevator. As she waited, a new fear cropped up in her paranoid brain. What if he forgot something and came back down? What if the elevator returned to the main floor, and the doors opened to reveal Theo standing there? Deciding she was not willing to risk the possibility, Bonnie headed for the stairwell.
Three flights up, she was starting to regret her decision. She actually did need to pee, and her feet were killing her. She loved her new emergency credit card boots, adored them. But they were brand new, and walking to and from the Drake had barely begun to break them in. Now, each step she took was met with stinging pain as the cute ankle boots rubbed against the back of her heels.
When she reached the landing for the fifth floor, Bonnie decided she’d had enough. She didn’t really plan to take the stairs all the way up to her floor anyway, did she? She was being an idiot; there was no way she’d run into Theo now.
She shoved the stairwell door open and hobbled down the hall toward the elevator. Moments later, she reached her floor and slipped into the empty hall. Relief flooded her. A few more steps and she’d be safely tucked away in Sadie’s suite.
Barely twenty feet from where she stood, a door swung open. The tidal wave of relief froze, her blood turning to slush. Exiting his room, only a few doors down from her own suite, was Theo.
Of course.
Ice bucket in hand, he pulled his door shut and headed down the hall, away from her. She bit her lip and stared at his retreating figure. Fists clenched, aching feet poised to flee, she squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Please don’t look back.
“Miss Blythe?” a cultured English voice called out.
She scrunched up her face, closing her eyes even tighter.
“Bonnie?”
The voice was closer now. She risked a peek, opening one eye, and regretted the move instantly.
He’d reached the spot where she stood glued to the hall carpet.
“Theo!” She smiled wide, lips stretched across her teeth. “What a surprise.”
“I could say the same.” He looked down at her, mouth curving in a much more genuine, albeit curious smile. “Did I miss something?”
“What?” she asked, hating and loving how she had to tilt her chin to look up at him. Gabe was of average height, only a few inches above her own five-foot-four. Standing in front of her, Theo’s chin cleared the top of her curls, and that was while she was in heels. It would be so easy to lean against him, to lay her cheek on his chest … “What’s missing?” she asked, trying to focus on the conversation w
hile her imagination continued to cuddle him.
“That’s precisely what I’m trying to figure out.” He chuckled, a low rumbling sound that did funny things to her insides. “Are you following me?”
Bonnie swallowed hard. “No.”
He bent his head and leaned closer. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She scooted away from him, but her hasty escape was impaired by a burst of fire in her right heel. Ignoring the excruciating sting of leather shredding her skin, she shuffled forward, gritting her teeth as pain lanced through her. Damn new shoes.
“Are you all right?” Theo called from behind her.
“Fine,” she seethed, and kept moving.
“No, you’re not.” He caught up to her. “What is this, the Ministry of Silly Walks?”
She ignored his Monty Python reference. Shuffle. Wince. Shuffle. Wince.
“Bonnie, this is nonsense.” He stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. “I can see you are in pain.” His blue eyes searched hers, brows furrowed in concern. “What happened?”
It was his concern that undid her.
“What happened?” Her voice was too high, too shrill. She paused and reined herself in. “You want to know what happened?”
“Yes.”
She expected him to glance around, to check if they were alone in the hallway, worried about making a scene. But he didn’t. He just stared at her, eyes intent, concern even more evident than before—concern for her. “Yes, I want to know. I asked, didn’t I?”
“I bought new shoes.”
“Oh.” The abrupt shift from concern to confusion on his face was almost comical.
“Yeah, I bought new boots this morning, and they’re killing me.” She bent and yanked at the high-heeled boot, sucking in a breath as it rubbed against the blister, slicing into her skin while she pulled it off her foot.
“Christ, you’re bleeding.”
She glanced down. A bright red stain soaked the heel of her new tights. Bonnie stared at the blood, lip trembling. And then she just lost it. Dropping her boot, the floodgates opened, and she began to sob.