“Will you wait for me?” he asked her.
She wanted to lie. She wanted to tell him that she’d thought about it, and her friends would feel uncomfortable about a stranger crashing her farewell, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to.
“Mr. Flynn, you must be worn out. On an overnight plane, at the hospital all day,” she said.
“Too dingy looking for public consumption, am I?”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“Give me ten minutes.”
“Seriously—”
“Please?” he said pleasantly.
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. Anything else would have been rude. And maybe Mary would greet her warmly enough that she would appear to have at least one friend.
There was an elegant bar just off the lobby, and he indicated that she should wait for him there. “May I hold your bags for you?”
“What?”
“Your shopping bags. We can leave them in my room while we’re at dinner, and then I’ll fetch them down and see you home for the night afterward,” he said.
She was loath to give up the bags, almost as if she would find herself trapped if she handed them over.
But then she grew irritated with herself for being afraid of the man, knowing full well that he was suspicious of her, and that was why he was promoting their acquaintance. She stiffened inwardly. She was not going to worry about him; she knew what she was doing, and she didn’t intend to let him interfere with her purpose.
She’d already missed the chance to say something useful, like, Sorry, but I’m not nearly ready for this trip, and I have to go home and pack. Or, Sorry, but I have to drive out to the country and say goodbye to Mum and Dad.
And now she was standing there looking like an idiot.
Nothing to do but try to appear gracious. And to use this man, if need be, since he was clearly close to the family.
She offered him the bags. “Lovely, thanks.”
And with that, she turned and headed into the bar.
4
It had been a long day. A long flight, and a long afternoon at the hospital, time on the phone, time wishing he hadn’t come—time wishing he could stay longer. If he’d had any sense, he would have had dinner sent up and gotten a good night’s sleep.
But the temptation to find out more about the nurse who was accompanying Sean home had been strong. He didn’t tend to categorize people based on looks, and he’d seen plenty of beautiful nurses. But this woman was absolutely striking.
The image of her perfect, porcelain skin and cobalt eyes remained with him as he checked in at the desk, got his key and a welcome speech, and was pointed toward the elevator.
Thoughts of her remained with him as he quickly washed his face, ran a razor over the more-than-shadow he had acquired since he’d last shaved, and hopped in and out of the shower quickly enough to feel the heat of the water and wish he could stay longer.
She was wearing a casual blue sweater dress, so he chose a blue sweater, as well, to go with black jeans and his overcoat. Blue, he thought, taking one last look in the mirror. Deep, dark blue—but still no match for the color of her eyes.
Whoa, buddy, he told himself. He was supposed to be figuring her out, seeing as she was about to be very close to Sean for a while, not assessing the virtues of her appearance. But since they were on his mind, maybe he should assess them and get the subject out of the way. Okay, list time.
Her hair had a blue-black gleam more brilliant than a raven’s wing, and judging by the way the sweater dress molded her form, she was built as perfectly as any model who had ever graced the pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, and he had the feeling she wouldn’t need any airbrushing. Maybe it was the arrangements of her features that made her so compelling. Her face was a delicate oval, her nose perfect, her lips generous and yet cleanly shaped. She had high, elegant cheekbones, and those eyes…
He’d noticed that those eyes were often wary, filled with suspicion. But he was somehow certain that those eyes could also fill with passion and compassion, that they could blaze with anger against injustice, and soften to the warm blue of a summer’s day with empathy for those in her care.
So what was his problem? What was not to like?
Something about her just wasn’t right, though he couldn’t figure out what. They were heading to a pub to say goodbye to her friends, and that was certainly normal enough. She worked in the hospital, was clearly known there….
On the other hand, his brother’s old associate was theoretically working in the hospital, too, and he was anything but what he seemed.
He felt that the evening was going to be important; it would be a chance to see her in her element and get a better sense of her.