LEAD ME ON Julie Ortolon (mind reading books .TXT) 📖

he benefited from his own generosity. But the thoughtful romantic? No, that didn’t fit. Nor did she want it to. She liked it better when he was arrogant and rude.

Nudging the flower away with the tip of her finger, she donned the robe and went to the window to look outside. The hotel offered a perfect view of Seawall Boulevard and the beach beyond. A few joggers and bicyclists moved along the wide sidewalk at the top of the seawall— a massive concrete retaining wall that had been built after the nineteen hundred hurricane. When the wall had been completed, dirt had been pumped in, raising the level of the island’s east end several feet. Confidence in the fortifications was so high that the Hotel Galvez had been built to replace the Grand Hotel, and when another hurricane swept over the island a few years later, the cream of Galveston society had gathered in the ballroom to dance in defiance of the storm.

Allison had always liked that image, of women in lavish gowns, men in black formal dress, dancing beneath crystal chandeliers while a dangerous storm raged around them. It made her feel safe to know that even after the heartbreaking devastation of the Great Storm, life could go on within the safety of strong walls. How appropriate that she had come to that same hotel to resume her own life, to dance in defiance of the previous pain she had suffered.

Behind her, the shower turned off, and a few minutes later, Scott stepped out of the bathroom wearing another of the hotel’s robes.

“You’re up,” he said.

“Yes.” She turned with a smile, determined to act sophisticated. Then her gaze dropped to the deep V of exposed chest and her cheeks heated.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said.

“No, I’m used to getting up much earlier than this.” Although she wasn’t used to losing so much sleep during the night to make love. She glanced back out the window as her stomach fluttered.

“Hungry?” he asked as he went to the nightstand and retrieved his wristwatch.

“I suppose.”

“Me too.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “We never did get around to eating last night.”

Her cheeks grew hotter. “No, we didn’t.”

“Why don’t I order room service while you shower?”

Nodding, she headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom.

Scott let out a sigh of relief when the door closed behind her. He always dreaded mornings after sex. If a woman was going to morph into a clinging vine, or turn bitchy with regret, that was when it happened. Allison had seemed... shy. A little edgy and embarrassed, maybe, but that was all. No morning-after theatrics. Thank God.

Crossing to the phone, he ordered two plates of sausage, bacon, eggs, biscuits, and toast, and a pot of coffee. Then he added some yogurt and fruit, since women seemed to like that stuff, and remembered orange juice at the last minute. The B and B served fresh-squeezed orange juice every morning, so Allison probably liked it.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, he was arranging the food on the coffee table.

“Ah, perfect timing. I was just—” He glanced up and forgot what he was about to say. She stood in the doorway, looking angelic in the white robe. Her wet hair had been combed back from her face, emphasizing her delicate bones.

“Is breakfast here already?”

“Hmm? Oh yes.” He glanced down at the dishes. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want.”

“Whatever you ordered will be fine.” She moved forward and perched on the edge of the sofa, looking for all the world like a lady about to partake of afternoon tea. He watched in fascination as she selected a slice of toast. Rather than leave it dry, like so many stick-figure women who claimed they were fat just so people would tell them they weren’t, she slathered it with butter and jam. “I only see one glass of juice, did you want it?”

“No, I ordered it for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

He watched her as he took up one of the plates, trying to connect the prim woman beside him with the abandoned temptress who’d caught fire in his arms several times during the night. She had so many facets, he wondered how long it would take a man to discover them all.

Settling back into the corner of the sofa, he tried to imagine her as a character in one of his books. He toyed with the idea a bit, waiting for a scenario to present itself. Would she be the hero’s weakness or his strength? Would she be the fragile beauty who drove him to protect her at all costs? The key to solving a mystery? Or an equal partner on a dangerous mission? He could easily see her as all those things, but what sort of man would he pair her with?

Blank. Dammit. His mind went blank.

He tried again to form some glimmer of a plot, but Allison began to fidget under his focused regard. After a while, she cleared her throat, but didn’t look at him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” he said, distracted by his thoughts.

“Do you always buy flowers for your lovers?”

“Not always,” he answered carefully rather than admit almost never. He remembered walking past the gift shop in the lobby after checking in and seeing the vase of fragrant white flowers. Everything about them reminded him of Allison, so he’d bought them on impulse hoping she’d like them. From the way she was frowning at the vase, though, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. “Why do you ask?”

“It just seems odd. Like you’re trying to court me.”

He set his plate aside, unaccountably stung that she didn’t like his gift. “Don’t read anything into it, Allison. All it means is I was in the mood to buy a woman flowers. So don’t start thinking I’m a nice guy. I’m not. I’m a selfish son of a bitch. And I’m not trying to court you.”

“Thank goodness.” She visibly relaxed, and gave him a shy, sideways smile.