She swayed, and he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the waiting taxi without pausing to ask for permission.
‘Oh, for— Put me down! I can walk.’
‘You’ll fall, and that will draw more attention.’ He tried to ignore the scent of her and the feel of her slender curves.
‘Whatever. If it validates your manhood, go right ahead and sweep me up—if you slip on black ice and put your back out, don’t blame me.’ But she stopped wriggling. ‘This is the point where you tell me I don’t weigh anything.’
He waited a beat. ‘If I had to guess, I’d say you weigh the same as a small hippo.’
‘You have no idea how much I hate you.’
‘I know exactly how much you hate me.’ He lowered her gently on to the seat of the cab. ‘Wait there.’
She eased herself into a more comfortable position.
‘Where are you going? To find a chiropractor?’
He didn’t bother holding back the smile. ‘I’m going to tell a few lies about where you are.’
Alec strode back into the gallery, found the owner, made up something that he hoped sounded plausible, picked up Skylar’s coat and bag and joined her in the taxi.
The driver looked at him expectantly. ‘Where to, mate?’
It was a question he hadn’t considered until now.
Alec looked at Sky. Her eyes were closed, the livid bruising darkening before his eyes.
‘Sky?’
She didn’t move.
His instinct was to ask the driver to deliver them to the nearest emergency department, but she’d begged him not to, and he understood now that it was because she didn’t want to risk the publicity.
He didn’t even know where she was staying. Was she checked into a hotel somewhere with Richard Everson?
‘Sky?’ He nudged her and her eyes opened slowly, as if she had lead weights attached to her eyelids.
‘Go away. I’m going to sleep—probably for a hundred years—and if you kiss me to wake me up I’ll kill you.’
Her eyes drifted shut again and Alec leaned his head back against the seat, wondering what he’d done to deserve this. He was kind to old ladies, and tried never to forget his mother’s birthday, but apparently someone still thought he needed to be punished.
Unable to come up with a viable alternative, he reluctantly gave the address of his own hotel.
The cab driver did a U-turn and Skylar’s head flopped against his shoulder. Alec tried to shift her away, but her body settled against his as if it had been custom designed to fit.
The only way to stop her sliding off the seat was to put his arm around her, and he did that with the same degree of enthusiasm he displayed when completing his tax return.
The coat he’d lent her was open at the front, and he saw that the silver fabric of her incredible dress clung to her curves like a body stocking. A perfectly wrapped Christmas parcel.
She had the face and the body of a Victoria’s Secret model.
He imagined unzipping that dress and revealing those curves and quickly averted his eyes.
No way.
Not only was she injured, and involved with someone else, but their relationship bordered on the adversarial.
Who was he kidding? They didn’t have a relationship.