“So do I,” he admitted. “I don’t get it much at home—no one delivers to my house,” he added with a slight smile.
“I don’t doubt it.”
They were both still standing in the center of the room, which looked like every other motel room on the planet with its two beds, blue-and-green patterned spreads and curtains, boring landscapes and obligatory bolted-to-a-dresser television set. A small, round table with two blue-upholstered chairs sat in front of the single window. Molly made her way to one of the chairs and lowe
red herself into it, dropping her crutches on the floor beside her. It felt good to stretch her legs out in front of her; there wasn’t room to do so in her small car.
Kyle moved to the small nightstand attached to the wall between the two beds and opened the single drawer, pulling out a telephone directory. “What kind of pizza do you like?”
“There is no bad kind of pizza.”
“Then I’ll order one with everything.”
“Sounds good.”
The order placed, Kyle moved toward the door that connected their rooms. “I think I’ll take a quick shower before the food gets here.”
Her mouth went dry at the thought of him naked and wet, but she managed to reply airily, “Okay. I’ll just chill in here.”
Which was exactly what she needed to do, she scolded herself after Kyle disappeared into the other room. Chill out. Cool down. Stop carrying on like some love-struck fool over Kyle Reeves.
Having a harmless little crush on him would have been okay, maybe even sort of fun—but this wasn’t feeling like a crush. The emotions that were growing stronger with every minute she spent with him seemed significantly more dangerous than a simple schoolgirl-type infatuation.
She had never had her heart broken before. She suspected she was coming entirely too close to learning about that pain firsthand. And that was one experience she would just as soon forgo.
There was only one sure way to handle this disaster-in-the-making. The same way she always kept any potentially awkward relationship safe and pleasant—by turning Kyle into a buddy. Just another in a long line of temporary brothers—emphasis on temporary.
She could do that, she assured herself. No problem— she had done it plenty of times before.
And then she heard the shower start in the other room, and her heart started to pound again.
Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t be quite as easy as it had been in the past. But Molly Walker never surrendered without a fight.
His hair still damp from a long, steamy, muscle-loosening shower, Kyle walked back into Molly’s room with only a quick knock to warn her he was coming in. She had moved, he noted, from the chair to one of the beds. Having piled pillows against the headboard, she leaned against them as she sat with her legs stretched in front of her.
She was dressed in the navy-and-lime athletic pants and T-shirt set. Her left foot was encased in a white sock, her right foot hidden within the bulky brace. Her red-and-gold hair tumbled around her shoulders in a casual, tousled manner, and she wore very little makeup, if any. It was hardly a seductive scene—and yet, he took one look at her and felt his throat close.
Resisting an almost overpowering impulse to join her on the bed, he moved, instead, to one of the chairs. “What’s on?” he asked gruffly, nodding toward the TV.
“A James Bond marathon. You Only Live Twice just ended and Die Another Day is just starting.”
“You like Bond movies?” he asked in surprise. He would have thought she’d have considered the series too violent and sexist.
“I love Bond movies. Shane got me hooked on them when I was a kid. I’ve seen them all—even the one with George Lazenby playing Bond.”
“But the ultimate Bond is, of course…” He left the sentence hanging, an obvious test.
She passed it with a confident chuckle. “Sean Connery. Duh. Followed very closely by Pierce Brosnan. Though the films with Roger Moore and Timothy Dalton were good—they were Bond movies, after all.”
Strangely enough, this casual conversation made him even more attracted to her than blatant flirtation could have. He was growing entirely too comfortable with her. Found himself enjoying her company too much, even when she completely exasperated him. He didn’t want to grow too close to her—and he sure as hell didn’t want to miss her when he went back to Tennessee without her.
Surely that couldn’t happen after only a few days with her. Right?
He’d have to make darned certain that it didn’t. Someone tapped on the motel room door. Wallet in hand, Kyle answered, paid the smiling young man for the pizza, added a generous tip, then closed the door and set the fragrant pizza box on the table. “I saw a soft-drink machine just down the walkway from your room. What kind do you want?”
“Diet soda is fine—doesn’t matter what kind.”
It amused him that someone who put away food the way Molly did always drank diet beverages, but he didn’t bother to comment. It took him only a few minutes to fetch a couple of sodas—diet for her, caffeine-free for himself—and then they dug into the pizza.