“Yo, Romeo.” John nudged Wyatt’s arm. “About to miss my turn.”
“Oh, right.” He hit the brakes.
“Are you sure you aren’t the one who’s been drinking? Never seen you like this.”
“Yeah.” Just hung up on a girl he barely knew. And kicking himself for not getting her number.
“All right. We still on for poker night?”
“Yup. Bring an extra shirt, cuz you’re gonna lose one.” Wyatt pulled up to the curb.
John opened the door. “In your dreams.”
“Hey.” Wyatt leaned over as John got out. “Be safe out there.”
“Don’t worry.” John winked. “I never leave home without protection.”
Wyatt groaned and pulled back into traffic. He’d let this whole encounter with Anne get way too much into his head. He had a dream life. Enough money, fame, and plenty of women interested in him. He didn’t need anything more. Tomorrow he’d wake up and shake the whole thing off.
Yeah, he’d forget all about those honest blue eyes, adorable dimples, and the way his heart had launched like never before.
Right.
Chapter 4
Devon slipped behind the wheel of his car and waited for the blonde and her crew to leave the bar. His black BMW blended into the darkness in the farthest spot on the lot. Once the women pulled out, he followed from a safe distance.
Paul had been right. The blonde seemed to be the designated driver, dropping off her passengers. Three of them lived in small row homes in downtown Baltimore. He noted the addresses of each. Might come in handy later.
The next drop off was a half hour west of the city. He stayed back as they traveled the hilly country roads. Out of nowhere, a town popped up, and they were in the middle of civilization again. He raised an eyebrow when the Honda pulled into an upscale apartment complex. This was a far cry from the row homes.
The redhead got out and used a key to open the outer door. She wobbled before turning to blow a kiss to her friend, then disappeared inside. His blood warmed. Too bad Paul hadn’t picked her. She looked easily fuckable and lived well.
The small-town lights dimmed in the rearview mirror as he continued to follow. Ten minutes later, the Honda slowed and turned into the entrance of a small apartment complex. This made more sense. The ugly car fit right in with the others in the lot. The blonde parked. Open concrete staircases led to the apartment units above. She climbed to the third floor and entered a unit on the left.
Devon’s pulse quickened. Easy access. No cards to swipe or buttons to push for admittance.
He cruised the parking lot. Not a single BMW, Lexus, or Mercedes to be found. He’d need to rent or buy a vehicle that would blend in with the others while he watched the place. The muscles in his neck bunched. He unclenched his jaw and blew out a breath. His days of driving crappy cars should be behind him.
As much as it sucked, he needed to observe her routine and the others in the complex, so he would deal with a shitty car when surveilling the place. He could always take his Porsche or Lamborghini out for a fast, hard drive afterwards to expunge the putrid feeling of being encased by cheap vinyl and standard speakers.
He made another sweep of the lot, pausing to take down the license plate of her car. By morning, he would know her name and phone number. As he drove away, his lips curved in anticipation.
Chapter 5
Anne flung off the covers and leaped out of bed. Pain shot up her leg and she cried out.
She’d rolled her ankle. Damn. She didn’t have time for this. In less than an hour she needed to be at a teacher’s conference in Baltimore.
The sun filtered in through the white, lacy curtains, happily punctuating her tardiness. After indulging in a moment of self-pity, she shook her head. No one to blame but herself. She’d left her phone on vibrate and hadn’t heard the alarm. Maybe because she’d been dreaming about Wyatt.
Ever since their encounter two weeks ago, she’d tried and tried to get him out of her head. One short exchange with the guy should not have affected her so much, but it had. His touch, his scent, the way his eyes had sparked when their gazes collided. She’d never had such a reaction to a man. Pointless because she’d probably never run into him again. She needed to get back to reality.
Gripping the sideboard, she pushed up to a standing position. She took a tentative step, then cringed. Painful, but she could put some weight on her foot. Forget about heels, though. She’d have to wear pants instead of the skirt and blouse she’d laid out.
She showered standing on one foot and sat on the toilet lid while she dried her hair. Of course she dropped a contact in the sink, losing more precious time. Her fingers froze as she filled a plastic bag with ice to put on her ankle while she drove. At least it was her left foot. Guess it was going to be water and a granola bar for breakfast. No time to boil water for tea.
She descended the stairs, gripping the handrail for dear life and cursed living on the third floor. Thank goodness her car was parked close.
Keeping an eye on the clock, she drove as fast as she dared. When she finally got to the assigned banquet hall, she eased the door open. She had to walk a distance to reach a seat in the cavernous room. A few people looked back as she slinked to an end chair in the last row.
A minute later, another latecomer entered the room. She was digging a pen out of her purse when a pair of crutches came into her peripheral vision. Since the seat beside her was empty, she slid over to make space for the person to sit on the end. She moved her bag and purse out of the way as a man sat and placed his crutches in the aisle.
People in front of her turned around, some whispering and pointing in his direction. Anne glanced over to see what the fuss was about and did a double take. Wyatt sat beside her.
His green eyes grew wide, and a big smile lit up his face.
Her cheeks flamed, and her heart jumped, like when she’d found out she’d passed her teacher’s certification test. She’d never expected to see Wyatt again. What was he doing there?
Anne didn’t talk to Wyatt, instead focusing on the speaker giving the presentation, but the fragrance of his cologne distracted her to the point of zero concentration.
Every time she dared to glance his way, he caught her. Or maybe she caught him, because he sure as hell didn’t seem to be paying attention to anyone else besides her.
She forced herself to breathe and relax. He didn’t know he was starring in her dreams. They weren’t on a date. He just happened to be at the same conference.
When they got a break, he turned to her. “So, you’re a teacher too?”
“Yeah. Fifth grade, how about you?”
“High school health.”
No surprise there. The guy could be a poster child for “fit.” She’d convinced herself that the crowded, cramped bar area had made him appear so much larger than life. Nope. He loomed just as big in the huge conference room.
She forced herself to break eye contact as every nerve in her body jumped to attention. Gesturing to his injured leg, she asked, “What happened?”
“Touch football gone awry.” He grimaced. “And I owe John another DD night now.”
A woman approached Wyatt and hovered by his crutches. He glanced at her. She licked her lips and held up a pen. “Any chance I could get your autograph…for my uh…nephew?”
Wyatt smiled, nodded, and took the composition book she held out to him. “What’s his name?”
“Christy.”
Wyatt gazed up at her. “Christy?”
The woman touched her neck and cleared her throat, a blush creeping up to her cheeks. “Yes. He’s um…Christopher…but he goes by Christy.”
Anne’s throat tickled with a giggle, but she held it in check, feeling bad for the poor woman. Her face had turned bright crimson, and sweat gleamed on her forehead.
Wyatt jotted a message on the paper, then handed it back to her. She read the note and smiled. “Thank you so much. This means the world to…him. I mean, it will mea
n the world to him.”
She clutched the notebook and walked away, glancing back at Wyatt twice before taking her seat.
“Hey, you wanna cup of coffee?” He gestured to the banquet table with shiny, silver urns across the room.
Nice try. He wasn’t going to pretend that hadn’t just happened. Who was he? “Hold on. Everyone seems to know you. Why? Are you famous?”
He clicked his pen a couple of times, staring down at it before tucking it into his binder. “Eh, I played football for a while.”
“In college?”
“Yeah, but also for the Ravens. I retired a year and a half ago. Soon enough, I’ll be old news, and no one will want my autograph.”
“I have no idea about that, but yes, I know of the Ravens. My students come in wearing their jerseys sometimes.”
Wyatt blinked, and a slow grin formed on his face. “You don’t follow football, I take it?”
“Sorry.” She shrugged. “I don’t watch sports. I like to read.”
“To read?”
“Yes, you know, fiction. I prefer that to television.” Oh no, now she’d offended him. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with sports. People like sports. And I like people who like sports.” Dear God, she needed to shut up.
Wyatt’s shoulders shook. “Let me make sure I got this straight. You like people who like sports, but you don’t like sports.”
Now he was laughing at her. But she couldn’t blame him. She sounded like an idiot. Somehow, she had to fix this. “Yes. I mean, no. I mean, for example, my father likes sports. He’d watch with our dog.”
Wyatt squeezed his eyes shut and he didn’t even try to control his laughter now. “Is it fair to say you also like dogs that like sports? That is unless you didn’t like your”—his chest rumbled, and he had to stop to take a breath—“dog?”
Heat flamed a path from her neck to the roots of her hair. God, what the hell was she rambling about? He had to think her a complete moron. She didn’t babble or speak before thinking. The crazy chemistry or whatever it was between them had rendered her stupid. “Never mind. Can we get that cup of coffee now?”
“Sure.” He held her gaze for a moment.
Laughter still in his eyes, they sparkled with mischief. The space between them seemed to shrink. She swallowed and broke eye contact, reaching for her purse. “I’ll bring you a cup. How do you like it?”
“Thanks, but I’ll get it.”
“Really, I don’t mind. I’m getting some for myself anyway.” Even though she usually didn’t drink coffee, she wouldn’t mind a cup, and he might need some help.
Wyatt was up in a flash, despite his leg, and pointed a crutch toward the banquet table. “After you.”
So, he was stubborn, too. She smiled and walked ahead. He might be able to get the coffee, but walking back to the chair with it would be a challenge on crutches.
She hummed as she added cream to hers. No point in rushing. He leaned on the crutches and poured his own cup. Stirring her coffee, she waited to see what he would do. He took a sip, then paused as his gaze went from his chair back to where he stood. It wasn’t nice to take pleasure in his predicament, but she couldn’t help herself.
He swung one crutch forward and leaned on it while he switched the coffee to that hand.
“Are you always this stubborn?” she asked.
He grinned and nodded. “So I’ve been told.”
She reached for his cup.
With a sigh, he handed it over and followed her back to their seats. He tilted his head and squinted. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Did what?”
“You know what. You took your sweet time fixing your coffee so you’d be standing right there when I made a fool of myself.”
“I’d say I availed myself of an opportunity to help someone.”
Wyatt hitched an eyebrow. “I think you’re in the wrong career. You sound more like a lawyer than a teacher.” He sipped the coffee. “Did I imagine it or are you hurting too?”
“Huh?”
“Looked like you were limping?”
Her face heated again. “Oh, it’s nothing. At least not compared to your injury.”
“Didn’t look like nothing. Trust me, I know. I’m the king of lame.” He opened his mouth, then shut it. “That didn’t come out right.”
“Believe me. I understand.” He had nothing on her ‘I like people who like sports’ gibberish. She glanced at him.
He squared his shoulders, like he was bracing himself for something. “Hey, I’ve been kicking myself for weeks. At the bar I wanted—”
“If everyone could please listen up, it’s time for us to break into groups,” the moderator announced over the microphone.
Anne’s stomach dropped to the floor. He was going to ask her out. A part, a really big part, of her wanted him to. And that was the problem. He seemed like a decent guy, but he was a former football player with a bunch of groupies. Not what she was looking for at this stage of her life. He had women drooling over him left and right, and she had no desire to compete. Never mind that he smelled like heaven and made her insides quiver. Attractive, popular guys were not on her wish list anymore. She needed to find a man of substance.
“We’re running a bit behind, so elementary teachers please head to the back doors and high school teachers to the side,” the moderator said.
Wyatt frowned. “I wanted—”
“I’ll see you later. They seem to be in a rush.” Anne picked up her purse and hurried away before he could say anything else, her heart beating double time.
Wyatt tapped his thigh, his gaze on the instructor, but his mind elsewhere. The conference was a waste on him. Good thing he already knew the material. He couldn’t focus on anything all afternoon. Well, that wasn’t true. More like he’d focused on only one thing. He’d failed again to get Anne’s number.
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t get tongue tied or nervous about asking a woman out. If someone turned him down, which didn’t happen much, he moved on. For some reason, he couldn’t shake off Anne. He’d nearly split a rib laughing at her attempt to explain her lack of interest in sports. She’d stepped right in it, and the more she said, the worse it got. Didn’t help when her cheeks turned pink, sending a wake-up call to his parts down south.
Yeah, she lit up his scoreboard, which left him scratching his head. What was it about her? Her pants suit covered most of her body, but not enough to hide the sweet shape of her ass when she’d walked to the banquet table. She kept her nails short and neat, wore minimal makeup, and didn’t even like football. Not his usual type. But those big blue eyes of hers got to him. So many emotions flickered in them.
Maybe that’s what drew him to her. She talked to him like a regular person, not a star-struck sports groupie. Hell, she’d even made fun of him about the crutches and the coffee. The woman had spirit and intelligence. Beautiful, but seemed unaware of it. And like an idiot, he’d managed to let her slip away before even getting her number. Although, she hadn’t slipped away as much as run away.
The back of his throat tightened. She had issues. But that made her all the more human. No pretense, no flirting, no trying to win him over. Just…honest and real.
His ears perked up as the instructor turned off the smart-board and thanked them for coming. Shit. They weren’t going back to the big conference room. That meant he wouldn’t see Anne again. Oh hell no. He’d find her. Maybe her session hadn’t ended, wherever that might be. He grabbed his crutches and stood.
“Do you need any help?” asked the woman with the “nephew” named Christy.
“Uh, no thanks.” He wedged the crutches under his arms, but couldn’t move forward because she stood in the way.
“I wanted to ask because, you know, you were so nice to sign that autograph for me.” Her mouth curved, and her face flushed. “I was wondering if…”
Ugh. He didn’t have time for this, but he hated to hurt anyone’s feelings. “I don’t mean to be
rude, but I’m late meeting someone.”
“N-no problem,” she stuttered and backed away, once again, her face beet red.
Well, hell. He crutched a step and leaned in toward her. “Hey, tell Christy I really appreciate my fans and thanks.”
A huge grin split her face. “I will. I will.”
Phew. Nothing worse than making someone feel bad. He hurried to the door, his mind racing. Everyone had to leave through the lobby. His best bet would be to look for Anne there, unless she’d already left.
Loser mentality. No room for that. He jammed the down button on the elevator and adjusted his crutches. The muscles in his leg contracted. He could have run down the stairs in half the time if not for his stupid knee injury.
At last he reached the lobby. He exited the elevator and scanned the people milling around. No sign of Anne. A weight dropped in his stomach.
Refusing to give up, he crutched over to a spot where he could survey the entire lobby and leaned against the wall. He wiped sweat off his brow and stared down at his damp hand. What the hell had come over him? Running around a hotel like a maniac in search of a woman who clearly didn’t want anything to do with him? He’d lost it. Disgusted with himself, he pushed off the wall, and his gaze locked on Anne, coming out of the restroom.
His heart smashed against his ribs.
Purse hitched on her shoulder, nibbling her lip, she glanced around the lobby as if looking for someone. She strode to one of the lounge chairs and settled her purse on the cushion. Taking a seat, she pulled out her phone. She swiped and typed, but kept looking up from time to time.
Could she be searching for him? Damn the insecurity he’d never felt in his life. And damn the feeling this one mattered. Like he might not get another chance if he screwed it up. And why that bothered him compounded the whole thing.
He made his way across the lobby and caught the exact second she saw him. Yeah, he caught the way her eyes got wide and the quick flush of her cheeks as she stuffed her phone back into her purse. And yeah, he liked the way that made him feel because she had been searching for him. But she also had that skittish look to her. Like a curious cat that got too close to the fire and had to make a dash for it.
Love on the Line (Love Beyond Danger Book 3) Page 3
