Part 12 (1/2)
”Yes?”
”Please don't badger me about coming home. I've been getting enough badgering lately,” she said with a glance toward the door. ”And this is my home now.” She heard her father's long-suffering sigh before he agreed and hung up.
Lane put the phone back in the cradle, her fingers trailing over it. She missed him. She missed her brothers and sister.
Lane rejoined Tyler in the shop. ”I'm sorry about that.”
”Don't be. I didn't know you could speak Italian so well.”
Panic shot across her face. ”Do you?”
”Not a word.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief. ”One of those boarding schools was in Italy,” she said.
It wasn't a lie. She'd spend summers at home with her father, but school was a different story. Papa had always been busy with the winery, and her mother had been just plain busy.
”Want to go to the concert?” he asked. ”It's about to start.”
”I don't think I'm up to it.”
”Well, it looks like that phone call didn't go well, so why not? The concert will take your mind off it.”
Lane met his gaze, and inside, her emotions yanked up a ladder she wasn't ready to climb. How could her father think she'd return when Dan Jacobs was so intent on finding her that he'd gone to Italy to hound her father? What did Dan want from her? He'd already taken away everything she'd loved. No, she couldn't go back, even if talk died. She was just too weary of it all.
Lane wasn't even aware that Tyler had maneuvered her to the staircase leading to her apartment above until the lock clicked closed.
He handed her the keys. She looked around. He'd locked all the doors, lights were out.
”I have to watch you all the time, don't I?” she said.
He smiled. ”I wish you would.” He opened the door to the mudroom, which was now her private foyer, and nudged her toward the polished, curved staircase. ”I know when I'm beat. You're practically asleep right now.”
”I can manage the rest alone.”
”I know you can. I'm walking you up to the door.”
Lane shook her head, climbing the staircase and feeling every minute of the day in the cells of her body. They were screaming for a hot bath and sleep.
At the top landing, Tyler looked around. There was a small sitting area at the end of the hall near a window, plants hiding the view from the street. There had once been four separate rooms up here. Now the walls on one side of the hall had been knocked out, opening the areas for living, dining and a small kitchen. It was furnished like something out of a magazine. Rich fabrics draped the windows and pooled on the floor, and there were wrought-iron fixtures, as well as crystal, and antiques rested alongside polished oak tables. Everything was textured, overstuffed, designed for comfort.
The apartment looked lived in and cozy.
”I like this,” he said. ”You interested in doing up my place?”
Lane smiled and sagged against the wall. ”No. Go home, Tyler.”
”Not going to show me around?”
”Living room, dining room, kitchen, bedroom, guest room,” she said pointing sluggishly in the general direction.
He chuckled and stepped close. ”Aren't you glad tomorrow is Sunday?
”Thrilled beyond belief.” Today had been more tiring than a design show. And those had been nuts.
”Are you going to the sailing races tomorrow?”
”Gee, not on my to-do list.”
”Kyle and I are sailing.”
”Why doesn't that surprise me?”
”It's a tradition. McKays have been in every regatta since the first one. We've never actually won a race, but we've been there.”
He was inches from her, and as tired as she was, a part of Lane was screaming for his attention. ”You want me to come watch you sail? Is this like watching a jock practice football?”
He brushed the back of his hand lightly across her cheek. ”Sorta.” Her hair had come undone and was falling around her shoulders. It was glorious, deep, blood-red fire, and the sight of it turned him on.
”You have enough groupies.”
”Do not.”
”Not enough groupies? Or no groupies at all?” she countered.
He had to think for a second and she laughed lightly.
”Neither,” he said. ”Because you're the only one who matters.”
”This week.”
He reared back, searching her features, her eyes. ”If you think that's the case, Lane, then we need to get better acquainted.” He paused and then in a hurt voice said, ”You really believe that?”
”I've been trying hard to.” She sighed and something inside her conceded another battle. She was really hopeless when it came to this man. ”You're not an easy guy to resist, Tyler McKay.”
He insinuated his knee between her thighs and pressed her to the wall. ”Then stop trying.”
His mouth was on hers before she could speak, taking, nibbling, the power of the kiss growing stronger by the second. Her insides unwound and she felt as if she was melting into the floor. So she gripped his waist, pulling him till he mashed her to the hard surface. His mouth was everywhere, on her face, her lips, her throat. And when he dipped lower, Lane didn't stop him.
A b.u.t.ton flipped open, then another. A second later his mouth was roaming the swells of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He left a damp, tingling path behind, and Lane gasped for air, wanting to rip the blouse and bra off and experience his mouth all over her.
”I want you,” he said against her skin, then again on her mouth. ”I want you badly.”
”Tyler.”