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“Can I at least be an apple?”
Bingo. He stuck the key in the door and pushed it open.
“In we go,” he said, helping her over the threshold.
“Not even an apple,” she murmured, sounding tragically sad.
He told himself that speaking the truth would only get them both in trouble. In her current state there was no telling what she would do if she figured out that she was exactly like forbidden fruit and he was a man who had been starving for years.
He followed her into the room, which was typical for a cheap roadside motel. Full-size bed, small dresser, a couple of chairs and a door leading to a white-on-white bathroom. It looked clean enough, he supposed, a little surprised to find himself wanting Haley to have something nicer than this. What did he care where she stayed? As long as it wasn’t with him.
He pulled the key out of the lock and closed the door. Haley continued to hold on to him. He moved them both toward the bed so that when she finally did let go, she wouldn’t have very far to fall.
Speaking of which, once he really noticed the bed—wide, covered with a blue spread and very empty—he found it hard to notice anything else.
Sexy, willing women and beds just seemed made for each other.
He had to admit he liked the feel of her pressing against him. She was warm and seemed designed to fit him. He allowed himself a brief but meaningful fantasy, then put it firmly out of his mind. For one thing, he didn’t take advantage of anyone, ever. For another, his track record wasn’t exactly the greatest.
He dropped the key onto the small table between the chairs and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested. “The bed is right behind you. If you’re still, the room will stop spinning.”
She smiled. “I like it spinning.” She blinked and when she opened her eyes, her gaze lasered in on his mouth.
“Do you know that I’ve only ever been kissed by three men. Well, only one man, really. The other two were boys in high school.” She frowned. “Or were they young men? When do boys become men?”
When they finally make it with a woman, he thought but didn’t say. “Haley, you need to sit down.”
Her gaze didn’t waiver. “If I was fruit, you’d kiss me.”
It scared him that her comment almost made sense.
“In college I didn’t date much,” she continued, swaying slightly so that he was forced to release her shoulders and grab her around the waist to keep her from falling. “There weren’t that many boys around and the ones who were never seemed to notice me.”
Then they were idiots, he thought. “Haley—”
She interrupted with a soft sigh. “I like how you say my name.”
He swore silently. They were standing too close for comfort, at least for him.
“Maybe I was too good.”
He stared at her, taking a second to put the statement into a logical framework. “At college?” he asked.
She nodded vigorously, then blinked several times. “I never did anything wrong.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I don’t mind doing it now.” She tilted her head. “Something wrong, I mean.”
“Oh, I got that.” He reached up and pulled her arms from around his neck. “Sit,” he said firmly.
She sat.
Her eyes widened when she hit the bed. She was eye level with his waist, which he could handle, and she seemed delighted, which he could not.
She laughed. “Okay.”
Okay? Okay, what? Then he decided he didn’t want to know.
Kevin pulled out one of the straight-back chairs and set it in front of her. He sat and wondered if he had a prayer of reasoning with her while she was this drunk. Regardless, he had to try.
“Haley, I need you to listen to me.”
“I like listening to you talk.”
“Great. But pay attention to the words, too.”
She sighed and nodded.
He had a bad feeling he was screaming into the wind. “You can’t go around trusting people. You’re drunk and vulnerable right now. That’s dangerous. You can’t let strange men into your motel room.”
Dammit all to hell if she didn’t laugh at him. “I trust you,” she said.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Yes, I should. You’re a nice man.”
Nice? Perfect. Just perfect.
“Fine. I’m nice. But the next guy won’t be.”
“I don’t want the next guy. You’re my best shot at being bad.”
“What?”
She shrugged and nearly toppled onto her back. He shot out a hand to steady her.
“You’re nice but you’re bad, too.” She lowered her voice. “I can tell. I want to be bad.” She leaned in close to him. “Don’t you want to help me?”
What he wanted was to know what he’d done to deserve this.
She shifted on the bed, suddenly moving closer. Too close. Her gaze settled on his mouth again.
“Don’t you want to kiss me?” she asked, sounding mournful. “I’d like you to, but I don’t know if I’m very good at it. I’ve always wondered. But how do you ask? I mean, is anyone going to tell the truth? Would you tell me?”
He had no idea what they were talking about. Despite the ugly dress and her crazy, trusting personality and the fact that if he even thought about touching her he would be zapped by lightning, he suddenly wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to know what she would taste like and how she would respond. He wanted—
She suddenly turned from him. Her legs bumped against his as she struggled to get away. He stood, pushing the chair back, and she bolted for the bathroom. The door slammed behind her, the toilet seat went up with a clatter and two seconds later came the sounds of her being violently sick.
Kevin winced in sympathy. He was guessing this was the first time she’d been drunk, so it was probably the first time she’d been sick with alcohol. Not a fun way to end the day.
He glanced at the door, then hesitated as the need to do the right thing warred with his desire to bolt for freedom.
He compromised by deciding to stay until he knew that she was all right. At least he no longer had to worry about his virtue. There was nothing like barfing one’s guts out to break the romantic mood.
Twenty minutes later it was all over but the moaning. Kevin walked to the bathroom door and knocked softly.
“Tell me you’re still alive,” he said.
A groan came in response.
He pushed the door open and found Haley curled up on the bathroom floor. Her eyes were closed, her skin the color of fog. The soft strands of blond hair now lay plastered against her forehead.
“I’m dying,” she gasped.
“It only feels that way.”
She shook her head, then groaned again.
“Come on,” he said, crouching next to her. “Get up and take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
She opened one eye. “I’m never going to feel better.”
“Hot water works wonders.”
Her eyelids fluttered shut.
“Come on, little one,” he said, slipping his arm around her and pulling her into a sitting position.
She kept her eyes closed until she was upright, then opened them slowly.
“Is the world still spinning?” he asked.
“A little. It’s not as fun as it was before.”
“I’ll bet.” He shifted so he could unbuckle her ugly shoes. “You’re probably done throwing up.”
“So now I can pass away in peace?”
“Not on my watch.” He pulled her up until she was sitting on the edge of the tub. “How about a change of clothes for after your shower? Do you have a robe or something?”
“I have a nightgown in the top drawer.”
“Stay here. I’ll go get it.”
Kevin walked into the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he slid open the drawer, but any visions of lace and satin were quickly squelched when he saw the high-necked, long-sleeved, cotton granny gown.
He returned to find her sitting right where he’d left her.
“Can you stand?” he asked.
“Why would I want to?” He chuckled.
She glared. “You should have a little more respect for the dying.”
“Death is a long way off, Haley. You only wish it wasn’t.”
He pulled her to her feet. She swayed a little. He shifted so she had a clear line to the toilet, but she didn’t bolt, so he figured they were both safe.
After pulling the plastic curtain halfway closed, he turned on the water until it was steaming hot, then adjusted the temperature to just below scalding and pulled the knob to start the spray.
He stepped back. Haley didn’t budge. He gave her a little push toward the water.
“You can get in dressed or undressed,” he said. “Your choice.”
One hand fluttered behind her before falling back to her side. He sighed heavily, then pulled down the zipper of her dress. As he did so, he was careful not to look at anything more interesting than the sink he could see over her shoulder. He stepped back and headed for the door.
“Holler if you need anything.”
“Okay.”
He heard her dress hit the floor. His imagination supplied a perfect picture of everything he hadn’t seen. He had a feeling the real thing would be even better. “Kevin?”
He made the mistake of turning around before he realized the potential for disaster. Haley stood facing him, now clutching her dress to herself, but behind her was the small mirror. It reflected a slender back, narrow waist and gentle curving hips. Cream-colored perfection.
He made himself look only at her eyes. “What?”
She swallowed. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He retreated to the bedroom where he was tortured by the sounds of her in the shower. Reminding himself that she had just been sick, and probably felt less appealing than a fur ball, didn’t help.
He paced restlessly for ten minutes, then forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed and click channels until he found the ball game. It was tied in the eighth inning and damned if he didn’t care at all.
The shower finally went off. There were more sounds he couldn’t identify, then the bathroom door opened.
Haley stood dwarfed by her cotton nightgown. The fabric hung to the floor and concealed every single curve and womanly feature. She was pale, but she no longer looked quite so desperate. Her wet hair stood up in spikes. She’d said she was twenty-five, but right now she could pass for twelve.
“I still feel pretty awful,” she said.
“That’ll teach you to suck down margaritas at the speed of sound. The good news is you got most of the alcohol out of your system tonight. You’ll be fine in the morning.”
“I hope you’re right.”
