The Trouble With Tomboys(8)

She licked her lips before meeting his eyes. A strange sensation rushed up the back of his spine and neck as he watched the dart of her tongue. The feeling tickled the base of his skull, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Could’ve been his own awareness of her, he guessed, but it’d been so long since he’d felt anything—toward anyone—he dismissed the idea as soon as it came.

Grateful she’d moved away from his door, he

nodded his hello and pulled a key card from his pocket as he stepped around her and approached his room. Hopefully, she’d realize he wanted to be left alone.

No such luck.

She turned as he passed her, falling into step with him. “I was fixing to head downstairs and find myself some vittles. You hungry?”

“I’ve already eaten.” He unlocked his room to emphasize how much he wanted to be alone.

She set her hands on her hips. “Well, you look like you could do with an extra meal here and there.

Why don’t you come along? Keep me company.”

He shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

21







Sighing, B.J. tugged his briefcase out of his hand and tossed it into the opened door of his room.

He frowned but didn’t react. If his head didn’t hurt so bad, if he hadn’t been thrown off track by the incident at the end of the meeting with Weatherly, if he could only see Amy smile again when he closed his eyes, he probably could’ve come up with a suitable comment to scare her off. Something scathing and dry. But his head went blank, so all he could do was gape at her for her daring.

To further confound him, she hooked her arm

through his and started walking them toward the elevators. He could’ve been rude and pulled away.

But for some reason, he followed.

“Don’t matter none if you’re not hungry,” she said. “You just sit there. I’ll eat enough for the both of us. I hate going to those fancy, shmancy hotel restaurants by myself.” She grinned at him. “I won’t even make you talk if you don’t want. Hell, I’ve been known to carry on a whole conversation by myself.

So you don’t have to worry about a thing. Just having a presence like you around will do me well enough.”

“It’s been a long day,” he said as she stopped to press the elevator button. A last attempt for escape.

“I’d like some rest.” He unhooked her arm from his.

She grinned up at him, her brown eyes hopeful and encouraging. “You can sleep the whole way home tomorrow if you like,” she told him. Then her grin faltered, and the gleam in her eyes died. She gave him a serious, probing look. “Just don’t make me eat alone tonight, Rawlings.”

Grady froze as a sensation similar to pity

slammed through his windpipe. He knew exactly what it was like to eat alone every night. He preferred it that way, sure, but it didn’t stop the wistful hope to sit across from Amy again, sharing just one more meal with her.

22



The Trouble with Tomboys



Realizing B.J. could probably see the empathy in his gaze, he glanced away. “Why don’t you just order room service?”

“Thought of it,” she said before shrugging. “But I had to get out of there for a while.” Pausing, she patted his arm. “Don’t take that to mean I don’t appreciate such sweet lodging, Slim. I already snarfed down the chocolates on my pillow and dumped the free goodies from the bathroom into my duffle bag. But I can only take so much of being penned in one place before I start going stir crazy.

Know what I mean?”

He knew he was beginning to go a little stir crazy himself, wanting the privacy of his room for some tranquil silence.

But B.J. stared at him with that probing look again; he couldn’t tell her no. He figured he owed her. She’d been the one to remind him of Amy burning her brother’s magazines. She’d been the one to help him drag up the vision of his wife smiling after missing it for so long.

With a sigh, he tugged at his tie. “Okay,” he relented. “But I want to change out of this suit first.”

23









Chapter Three


Supper proved a lot more difficult to come by than B.J. had originally thought. The hotel

restaurant was one of those classy digs that required a certain dress code. As she and Grady approached, the hostess looked at B.J.’s shirt and jeans and black cowboy boots in disgust, but refrained from

remarking.

Instead, she turned to Grady and promptly said,

“I’m sorry, sir, but you need to wear a suit and tie to eat here.”

Truth be told, Grady looked a lot more spiffed up than B.J. in his Wranglers, boots, and a neatly pressed plaid top, so the whole suit-and-tie rule sent her a little over the edge.