But he didn’t ask. He apologized. If one could call it that.
“Sorry,” he said gruffly. Then he turned from her and got in his car. As she watched, he started the engine, then drove away.
“A hit-and-run kisser,” she whispered when she was alone. A dangerous man. She would have to be more careful when it came to Simon Bradley. He was the kind of man who could easily break her heart.
CHAPTER SIX
TUESDAY AFTERNOON, SIMON stood in the center of his hotel room, not sure what to do. He didn’t usually allow himself to be indecisive. In his line of work, decisions had to be made quickly. He’d learned to trust his instincts, to believe that his training and his ability would guide him. But this wasn’t surgery. This was regular life and he’d never done very well there.
He fully expected Montana to have given her mother some reason why he couldn’t show up. After what had happened yesterday, there was no way she would be waiting for him in the hotel lobby. He hadn’t just kissed her, he’d claimed her. Once again he’d been unable to resist, and this time she’d felt the proof of what she did to him. His inability to restrain himself humiliated him, yet he knew if given the chance he would do it again.
He glanced at his watch. It was nearly four. He’d gone to all the trouble of arranging to leave the hospital early. Either he went through with the damn meal or he went back to work. Compelled by a force he couldn’t explain, he made his way downstairs. Even if she didn’t show up, he owed it to her to be waiting. It would be his penance.
But when he stepped into the lobby, she was all he saw. Her long golden-blond hair, tumbling across her shoulders. The pale blue sundress that left her arms and legs bare. She was beautiful and sexy and he wanted her with a desperation that robbed him of speech.
He saw other men glancing at her and wanted to step between them and her. He wanted to announce to all the world that she was his and no one else could have her. The primitive need shocked him. He wasn’t that man. He was always in control.
Except with her.
She saw him and smiled, then walked toward him. Her hips swayed, enticing him. Every movement was sensual, a siren’s call to pleasure.
“Look at you, wearing jeans again. You’re doing it to mess with my head, aren’t you? We both know you’re much more the suit type.”
Because that was how she saw him. What was it she had said? That he had a stick up his ass?
“About yesterday,” he began.
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare apologize. You can’t kiss like that and then say you’re sorry. Because if you really are sorry, I’ll have to punch you hard in the stomach. I’ve accepted that you’re a hit-and-run kisser. Luckily for you, you’re the best one around.”
“There are others?”
She laughed. “No. Just you.”
He could see she wasn’t angry. If anything, she was teasing him. He’d hoped she enjoyed kissing him. She’d kissed him back—he’d felt her response. But he didn’t know if he’d taken it too far. While that wasn’t an excuse for his behavior, her acceptance made him feel a little better.
She placed her hand on his chest. He supposed it was casual, or at least intended to be. But he felt the heat of her touch burning down to his soul.
“You should do that more often,” she said, staring up at him.
“Kiss you?”
She laughed. “That’s not what I meant, but maybe. I was talking about you smiling. You don’t smile very much. I suppose that comes from being a very serious man.”
In her world, was being serious good or bad? He had a feeling it would fall on the bad side and wanted to tell her he could be as much fun as the next guy. But he knew he was wrong. All the fun had been burned out of him a long time ago.
She dropped her hand to her side. For a moment he wanted to protest, telling her that he needed the physical contact between them. Instead he said nothing.
“Come on,” she said. “Everyone in my family is waiting to treat you like the hero you are.”
“I’m not a hero,” he said, following her out of the hotel lobby. Far from it.
Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, he wanted things to be different. He saw the world around him and wanted what other people had. Connection. What was that old saying? No point in howling for the moon.
“You’re a hero to us,” she told him.
They stepped out into the warm afternoon. The sidewalk was surprisingly crowded with families and couples talking as they walked. From the little he’d seen of the town, it was an open, friendly place. Like something out of a movie or a sitcom. Not that it tempted him. When his time here was finished, he would be moving on.
Montana made her way to a beat-up Subaru wagon. A few dings scarred the doors and the paint wasn’t very shiny, but what caught his attention was the large dog in the back. He recognized the big eyes, the slobbery grin and the sweeping tail with nearly magical powers of wreaking havoc.