Unwanted Girl. MK Schiller

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ your company?”

      He studied her, a look of suspicion crossing his face. Shyla cursed her stupidity and lack of feminine prowess to correctly assess the situation. He wasn’t interested. She lowered her gaze and began to turn away, but his foot kicked the door open. “Come in.”

      He took the second paper bag from her. As he set down the food and put away the umbrella, she took a minute to study his home, still shocked she stood on the other side of the door. The loft was spacious by New York standards with lots of windows, modern charcoal-colored walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and intricate molding. The bookcase captured most of her attention, though, spanning an entire wall with hardcover spines from floor to ceiling. A rolling ladder rested against it.

      She began shrugging off her coat. He came behind her, easing it off her shoulders. The polite action caught her off guard. Nick held his hand out for her scarf, but she shook her head, pulling it tighter.

      “Would you like something to drink?”

      “Yes, Nick Dorsey, I would.”

      “Why do you keep saying my full name?”

      She bit her lip, realizing she didn’t have an answer to the question. “I don’t know.”

      “My name is Nick. Call me Nick.” He walked over to the glass dining table and pulled out a chair, gesturing for her to sit, but she stood in place.

      “For Nicholas?”

      “Yes, but I prefer Nick. I don’t know your name. I call you Sandwich Girl, but that seems very disrespectful right now.”

      She held out her hand. “Shyla Metha.”

      “Shyla,” he repeated slowly. He took her hand to shake it, but held on longer than courtesy required. He sucked in a deep breath. As his hold tightened, she imagined him pulling her closer, but instead he pulled free of their connection as if their touch had become uncomfortable for him. How could such a small gesture scream so loudly? Although she felt the sting of his rejection, she also welcomed the idea she wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

      “What would you like…” He paused, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before it tightened again. “To drink?”

      “What do you have?”

      “Water, scotch, and very old scotch.”

      “What are you having?”

      “Scotch.”

      “I’ll have one too, please.”

      He stared at her for a moment that stretched a few seconds too long for comfort before heading into the open kitchen area.

      She took the seat he’d offered. At least in this position she could cover her shaking knees.

      “How old are you?” he asked from the kitchen.

      “Are you afraid of contributing to the delinquency of a minor?”

      He laughed, bringing back a bottle of amber liquid and two small glasses with ice. “I’m sure you’re delinquent enough without my contribution.”

      “What would make you think that?” Did he think she was a loose girl? Then again, her actions weren’t exactly characteristic of piety.

      His grin put her at ease. “You invited yourself into a stranger’s house.”

      “I’ve been delivering to you for a year now. You’re hardly a stranger.” He poured the liquor into each glass and slid one in front of her. “Besides, I have pepper spray in my pocket,” she added.

      He shook his head before slugging back his drink. “That’s wise. Inform a possible attacker of the weapons you’re carrying and their location.”

      Shyla shrugged. “You don’t know all my weapons. Just the one, and I can use it as a decoy should you choose to make me feel unsafe.”

      He frowned, a look of regret flickering on his face. “You’re safe with me.”

      “I believe you.”

      He shook the ice cubes in his glass. “Shyla is an interesting name. Does it mean something?”

      “It’s Sanskrit for daughter of the mountain.”

      “Oh,” he said, dismissively. “That’s it?”

      “It’s also the name of a goddess.”

      “Definitely more appropriate.” He spoke barely above a whisper.

      A heat crept across her neck. She took a large gulp of her drink to cool herself.

      Big mistake.

      The butterflies circling her belly burst into flames once the liquor hit. Her eyes watered, and her insides burned. She sputtered and coughed, placing her palm against her mouth for fear a dragon-like spear of fire might shoot free.

      “Hey,” he said, crouching in front of her. He took the glass from her, setting it on the table. “Are you all right?”

      She nodded, swallowing hard, hoping to extinguish the liquor-induced inferno. “I’m sorry.”

      He brought her a glass of water. Gratefully, she sipped and apologized again.

      “It’s fine. It could have been worse.”

      “Worse?” she asked, embarrassed by her actions.

      “You could have asked for the old scotch. That would have been a waste.”

      She widened her eyes until he grinned mischievously. That grin was dangerous, both relaxing and stimulating. “How can you drink that?”

      “Straight up and on the rocks. The question is why did you ask for it if you don’t like it?”

      “I didn’t know I wouldn’t like it. I thought it would taste like butterscotch.”

      “Yeah, it’s definitely not candy. Back to my original question. How old are you?”

      “Twenty-two.”

      He sighed, looking relived. “You’re a very innocent twenty-two.”

      “You just said I was a delinquent.”

      He placed a hand on her shaking knee. It stilled immediately. His command over her body was stronger than her own. “I was wrong.”

      “I guess it’s a matter of opinion.” She played with the frayed edges of her scarf, deciding scotch would never touch her lips again.

      They both ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts. “You always order the turkey,” she finally said.

      “I’m loyal to what I like.” He looked at her food. “What are you having?”

      “It’s a veggie sandwich—cucumbers, tomatoes, СКАЧАТЬ