Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2) - Page 33
The blonde with the disposition of a mule took a breath, shined the light on the next step, and started down the stairs.
Zach’s jaw tightened.
The woman was a stubborn, prideful idiot.
He took a step forward. He could stop this nonsense. He was taller than she by at least half a foot. He outweighed her by, what, ninety, one hundred pounds. All he had to do was grab her, carry her back inside and…
And what?
Tie her up? Cuff her to a chair?
No way. He wasn’t her keeper and she wasn’t his responsibility. He’d had enough of responsibility the last couple of weeks; the truth was, he’d had enough of it for years.
For every action, there was a reaction.
Didn’t anybody study physics anymore? Didn’t they study history? Didn’t they realize you couldn’t always rely on others to ride to the rescue?
He put his hands on his hips.
She’d reached the bottom of the first flight. He watched her move along the landing…and vanish from sight when she reached the next set of steps.
He could still hear her, though. The high heels that had gone squish, squish, squish on wood were going click, click, click on the concrete.
Man!
High heels. Stiletto heels. For fifty flights of steps?
“At least take off your shoes,” he shouted.
No answer. Just those clicks fading away.
He went down a couple of steps. A couple more. The emergency lights were flickering like candles buffeted by a heavy wind.
“Crap,” he muttered.
Like it or not, she was his responsibility. She was here, in his home; he’d managed to scare the life out of her. He couldn’t let her break her—
He heard a thump. A thin cry.
“Fuck,” he snarled, and took off down the steps at a gallop.
She was on the second landing down, sprawled in a small heap, that sad excuse for a flashlight burning a hole in the dark from where it lay in her lap, the ridiculous shoulder bag beside her.
“Honey,” he said, squatting down beside her. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
She looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes and on her cheeks.
“I hate the dark. I hate heights. I hate whoever made these ridiculous shoes,” she said, making a slashing gesture at the stilettos lying a couple of steps below her like small dead creatures. “And you were wasting your time trying to seduce me because I am absolutely, positively, no-way-in-hell ever going to sleep with you! You got that, Mr. Castelianos?”
Zach nodded.
“Got it,” he said solemnly.
He picked up her flashlight. Perfect timing, because the emergency lights stopped flickering and simply went out.
Jaimie gave a little sob.
Zach leaned forward and gently thumbed the tears from her cheeks.
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