Kiss the Girl (23 page)

“Okay, now you’re just being stupid.”

“I beg your pardon?”  She perched stiffly on the stool that had given her such pleasure a few minutes ago.  “I am many things, but stupid is not one of them.”

“Okay, you’re not stupid,” Erik said.  He turned to face her, leaned forward until she had no choice but to look at him.  “
But
it pisses me off to watch you sit there, skinny as a rake, wearing second-hand clothes, berating yourself
over a bite of burger.  You’re so generous to other people.  Why can’t you be that kind to yourself every once in a while
?”

She felt the beginnings of a smile tug at her mouth.  “So it wasn’t a test of my strength and willpower?  I didn’t fail?”

He stared at her.  “Do people do that to you?  Test you?”

She shrugged.  “Comes with the territory.  Every journalist in the world wants to be the one to report that Nixie Leighton-Brace is a big phony.  Or so I’ve been told.”

Erik pulled her plate back toward her.  “Eat the damn burger.  All of it.”  The waitress came back and plunked a tall silver canister, an empty glass and a long handled spoon at Nixie’s elbow.  “And here’s your shake.  I want that gone, too.”

“Now I
know
that’s a sin.”

“No point in a half-assed revolution
.”

She tipped her head and looked at him.  “Why are you doing this, Erik?  What does it matter to you what I eat or don’t eat?”

“No reason,” he said.  “Sometimes I do things just because they’re fun.”

“And feeding me is fun for you?”

“I can’t explain it.”  He smiled at her, and there was something in it that had her mouth going dry.  “It doesn’t mean anything.  It just feels nice.  Isn’t that reason enough to do something?”

“Um, no.  Usually not.”

“And that’s why you’re
twenty-eight
years old
and having your first burger.”

“Right.”  Nixie turned back to her food.  She stuffed a fry in her mouth and concentrated on chewing, because she had the most inexplicable urge to crawl right up into his lap and curl there like a kitten.  Just because it would feel nice and not have to mean anything.

“Eat up, princess.”  He got to his feet and reached into his pocket.  “I’m going to hit the jukebox.  This place needs some Patsy Cline.”

Nixie was chewing her second bite of burger when the strings wound up for Patsy’s honky-tonk heartbreak
.  All that
crying, trying and loving inappropriately.

Tell me about it, Nixie thought.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Erik pulled into the Watergate complex an hour and a half later.  He glanced over at Nixie.  Her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed, her hair a shiny, cinnamon tangle against the headrest.  Those famous lips were curled into a contented almost-smile, and the pull they exerted over him was so constant he was almost used to it.  Almost.  And then, in quiet moments like this, it punched him in the gut all over again.  He sighed.  She could be a problem if he wasn’t careful.

He angled the truck into a spot near the door and tapped her shoulder with one impersonal finger.  She stirred, and her mossy eyes took a moment to flutter open and focus. 

“Oh.”  She blinked around the parking lot.  “Here already?”

“You conked out.”

She gave him a sheepish grin that ended in an enormous yawn.  “Sorry.  Must be the tryptophan, or whatever.”

“Yeah, that’s turkey.” 

“Oh.”

“What you’re suffering from, Nixie Leighton-Brace, is a good old-fashioned red meat coma.”

He reached over and gingerly unsnapped her seatbelt.  Her hands remained curled loosely against her thighs, and his stomach went tight and hot.  What else was she willing to let him do for her?  Did she even realize how damn soft and inviting she looked with those curls rioting around her sleepy eyes?

He risked a glance at her face and had to chuckle at himself.  She was half-snoozing again already.  He got out of the
Jeep
, rounded the hood and opened her door.

“Come on, princess.  Let’s get you home.”

Her eyes opened at that and the flash of hope in them surprised him.  Then she looked at the building and again at him, and it died out. 

“Right.  Home.”  Her voice was curiously flat but Erik didn’t ask. 
Hadn’t he told her it wasn’t so easy to build a home?  It wasn’t his fault she was disappointed
.  He took her elbow and helped her step down from the truck.

He started to guide her across the parking lot.  She said, “You don’t have to come in.  I’m okay now, honest.”

He looked down into that heart-breaker face of hers and saw that it was true.  Her eyes were open and alert, and the wind had slapped away the sleepy flush and replaced it with the pinched bafflement of a complexion more accustomed to the tropics.  He should relinquish her elbow, pat her on the head and say goodbye. 

“It’s no trouble,” he heard himself say.  “I fed you the burger.  As your friend it’s my duty to get you to your couch so you can sleep it off in peace.” 

She frowned at him.  “Wait, we’re friends now?”

“Any girl who can polish off one of Steve-O’s burgers is a friend of mine.  You nailed the fries and shake, too, so you get a Christmas card for life.” 

Her frown dissolved into a brilliant smile.  “And I don’t regret a single bite.”  She tucked her hand into his arm, gave it a companionable little squeeze.  “You’re a terrible influence.”

“What are friends for?” 
Friends
, he repeated silently. 
Friends, friends friends
.  It didn’t do a lot to neutralize the lust in his heart, but it was a distraction.  She kept her hand in his elbow as they got into the elevator, a small, warm connection between them.  He wouldn’t have been
surprised if she nestled her head into his sleeve and took another quick nap.  Something hot and wanting bubbled in his blood at the thought. 

The doors swished open, and Erik all but sprinted down the hall toward Nixie’s apartment.  She was killing him.  She was killing him and she had no idea.  He stood there, tensed on the edge of either bolting or seizing her up in his arms while she rooted around in her purse for her key.  She finally came up with it, and he breathed a sigh of relief.  Almost done.

She inserted it into the lock, but didn’t
turn it.  Instead she faced
him.

“Thank you, Erik.”  She laid a hand on his arm and he close
d
his eyes against the vicious tide of wanting it created in him.  “I know this was a pity lunch.  I’m sure between the hospital and the clinic you don’t have many free afternoons, and I can’t tell you what it means to me that you were willing to part with one of them to keep me company.”

He forced a smile.  “Friends don’t let friends eat eggplant, Nixie.”

She shook her head.  “
We’ll
do it your way
, then
.  No heartfelt speeches.  Just know that I’m grateful, okay?” 

She rose up on her toes and brushed a kiss onto his jaw.  To be fair, it was a friendly kiss.  The kind a friend gives another friend.  A thank-you note of a kiss.  But her hair slid over his chin, silky, sweet and lemony, and it issued an invitation all its own.  It all but begged Erik to tangle his fingers in it, turn her face to his and address those lips properly. 

Erik tried, really tried, for the space of three endless heartbeats to ignore it.  Then she backed up and gave him a chagrined half-smile.  “And now I’ve made you uncomfortable.  I’m really sorry, Erik.  I can’t seem to get the rhythm of making friends.”

He could resist the elegant bones, the lost eyes, even that smart-alecky mouth.  But when she went all endearingly, awkwardly self-conscious, she pushed him over the edge.

“Have I ruined everything?” she asked, her brows knit adorably.

“Nope.  I’m going to do that.”  He buried one hand in those gorgeou
s soft curls and pulled her
up onto her toes so he could finally, finally,
finally
kiss her. 

The breath caught in Nixie’s lungs, tangled there, and refused to come out.  But that was okay with her.  She would never breathe again and not mind as long as Erik kept kissing her.  His mouth was everything she’d imagined it might be and he was kissing her like she was breath itself, like she was the center of the universe.  Like he’d been starving for her.

One of those big hands speared into her hair, lifting her up, holding her steady, while his mouth moved over hers in a dance that was both fierce and seeking.  He wanted something from her, she realized.  Something besides the obvious.  There was more than just desire here, and it was dark, needy and jagged.  She wondered what it was at the same time she recognized it in herself. 

She rose up, wound her arms around all the solid strength of him and offered up a matching need, a desire to know and explore and
have
that had been dogging her relentlessly and against her will since she’d met him.  She opened her mouth under his and tasted him.  He made some kind of noise that might have been approval, might have been anguish.  Nixie smiled.  She felt the same way.

His hand against her head shifted, brought her to a new angle under him and he slid his tongue along her lips.  He tasted her slowly, and Nixie felt...savored.  The thrill of it shot over her skin, settled in her stomach and glowed there.  His thumb brushed over her cheek and she turned helplessly into it, like a cat begging to be petted.  When he pulled back, it took her a moment to surface, to register that he was looking at her.  Waiting for something. 

She stepped back, cleared her throat and touched a finger to her lips.  They were exquisitely sensitive.  “What...um, what was that?” she asked. 

“Nothing.”  His blue eyes still glowed with the embers of that kiss and Nixie’s brows shot skyward.  She might not be an old hand at casual kissing, but that didn’t mean she was entirely naïve either. 

“Nothing.”  She repeated it with patent disbelief.

He gave her a careless grin.  “Well, obviously it was a kiss, Nixie.  A nice one, too.”

“Okay, but why?” 

The grin broadened.  “Why was it nice?  You want a critique?”

“No, I want to know why you kissed me.”  Mortification burned in her gut, but she kept her face calm and assured. 

“Friends don’t kiss?”

“Some cultures more than others, but with tongue?  Usually not.”

He rolled his linebacker shoulders in an easy shrug and said, “No reason, really.  Impulse.  I thought it would feel good.”

“Feel good?”

“Sure.  Didn’t you like it?”

Nixie considered the way she’d almost devoured him.  “I guess.”

“Listen, Nixie, just relax, okay?  It was fun.  That’s all.  Just like the burger.  It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

She studied him, then said, “First the burger, now kissing.  What’s next?  A little harmless tax fraud?”

“No.  Tax fraud is boring.”

She shook her head, but smiled in spite of herself.

Suddenly the door under Nixie’s hand opened and she leaped back, startled.  She landed on Erik’s feet and he picked her up and set her behind him.  She didn’t know if he meant to save her or his toes, but it was strangely gratifying to have somebody who wasn’t paid to do so put his big body between her and an unknown threat.   

“Are you buying this crap, Nixie?” a voice boomed out.  A familiar voice.  Nixie peeked around Erik’s shoulder and sighed.  She knew only one person who habitually spoke at a shout.

“Hi, Karl,” she said.  He was a big man, but next to Erik’s tough, Viking bulk, he looked soft.  Almost huggable if you didn’t know him.