Read Online One Magic Night by Shirley Larson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shirley Larson
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climbed the stairs ahead of Deke, fighting to control her annoyance. It had been on the tip of her tongue to invite them both in for coffee and a sweet roll, but now she was glad she hadn’t given in to the impulse. Ty Rundell was an arrogant man who didn't even have the decency to be civil now that he had no further use for her.
She unlocked the door and crossed to the table where she had left Deke's pouch, picked it up and handed it to him.
"Thank you," he said. "I'm not usually so careless."
"Maybe you had other things on your mind last night."
"Maybe I did." He stood for a moment, just holding the tobacco pouch, staring down at it. "Ty will probably be working all afternoon. Think Eve would throw me out if I went around to see her?"
"Chances are she will," Leigh said steadily. She studied his face, then smiled. "But an old stunt man like you should be able to take a fall or two and bounce right back, shouldn't you?”
Deke grinned at her. "You think so? I don't know. My timing might be off."
"She lives at the end of this cross street next to the creek in a small white house. You can't miss it."
Deke's smile widened. "Thanks." Again, there was a silence. Then he said easily, "Ty's not usually so brusque."
"Isn't he?" She laid her hat on the table and turned. "You don't have to apologize for him. He's a grown man. He's responsible for himself."
Deke's shoulders moved under the faded denim. "Maybe, maybe not." He studied her for a long moment, until Leigh wished heartily that he would take his pouch and go. He was far too perceptive. "We're all responsible for each other in one way or another."
"Are we?" she shot back without thinking.
Their eyes locked for a long moment before Deke's flickered away. "Yeah, I think so." Then he said in a light tone, "Good-bye, Leigh." He lifted the little pouch. "Thanks for not smoking my tobacco." His grin was irrepressible.
She smiled back at him. "It’s not my brand.”
“Good thing.” He threw her a salute, pivoted and left, his closing of her door creating a poignant silence in the apartment. For a long moment she stood staring after him. Whatever Deke had meant about shared responsibility, he couldn't have been directing it at her. Determined to shake off her edginess, she went into her bedroom to change into jeans and a cotton blouse. In the kitchenette, she ate a light lunch while correcting papers, but her gaze kept drifting away to the sunshiny view outside her skylight windows. When she found the fifth wrong answer to the same question, she knew it was because she had worded the question poorly. What had she been thinking? She threw down her red pen in disgust, her restless mood returning with a vengeance.
The long, slanted windows offered a full view of the weeping willow tree, and her thoughts churned on, serving up the feel of Ty Rundell's arms around her body, his lips on hers. He had made her feel emotions she vowed she would never feel again. She whirled around and went into her bedroom to snatch up a navy sweater. Tossing it over her shoulder, she went through her door, closing the self-locking latch behind her. She ran down the top flight of stairs, turned the corner of the landing, and nearly knocked Ty down.
The brush of that hard lean body against her own was bad enough. The scent of good leather and sun-tossed hair and clean man nearly unhinged her. She thrust herself backwards, her palms missing the edges of his open jacket to come in direct contact with T-shirt-covered hard, male flesh. "I'm sorry," she said instantly, dropping her hands. She took another step back and watched him, her eyes wary as a cat's.
The five-foot-square space of the landing shrunk. The wind had plucked at his dark, full head of hair, rearranging it in a style that framed his head. The crystal clear blue eyes were more vividly blue in the tanned face, the mobile mouth lifted slightly in a faint smile. Why was he here? He was
She unlocked the door and crossed to the table where she had left Deke's pouch, picked it up and handed it to him.
"Thank you," he said. "I'm not usually so careless."
"Maybe you had other things on your mind last night."
"Maybe I did." He stood for a moment, just holding the tobacco pouch, staring down at it. "Ty will probably be working all afternoon. Think Eve would throw me out if I went around to see her?"
"Chances are she will," Leigh said steadily. She studied his face, then smiled. "But an old stunt man like you should be able to take a fall or two and bounce right back, shouldn't you?”
Deke grinned at her. "You think so? I don't know. My timing might be off."
"She lives at the end of this cross street next to the creek in a small white house. You can't miss it."
Deke's smile widened. "Thanks." Again, there was a silence. Then he said easily, "Ty's not usually so brusque."
"Isn't he?" She laid her hat on the table and turned. "You don't have to apologize for him. He's a grown man. He's responsible for himself."
Deke's shoulders moved under the faded denim. "Maybe, maybe not." He studied her for a long moment, until Leigh wished heartily that he would take his pouch and go. He was far too perceptive. "We're all responsible for each other in one way or another."
"Are we?" she shot back without thinking.
Their eyes locked for a long moment before Deke's flickered away. "Yeah, I think so." Then he said in a light tone, "Good-bye, Leigh." He lifted the little pouch. "Thanks for not smoking my tobacco." His grin was irrepressible.
She smiled back at him. "It’s not my brand.”
“Good thing.” He threw her a salute, pivoted and left, his closing of her door creating a poignant silence in the apartment. For a long moment she stood staring after him. Whatever Deke had meant about shared responsibility, he couldn't have been directing it at her. Determined to shake off her edginess, she went into her bedroom to change into jeans and a cotton blouse. In the kitchenette, she ate a light lunch while correcting papers, but her gaze kept drifting away to the sunshiny view outside her skylight windows. When she found the fifth wrong answer to the same question, she knew it was because she had worded the question poorly. What had she been thinking? She threw down her red pen in disgust, her restless mood returning with a vengeance.
The long, slanted windows offered a full view of the weeping willow tree, and her thoughts churned on, serving up the feel of Ty Rundell's arms around her body, his lips on hers. He had made her feel emotions she vowed she would never feel again. She whirled around and went into her bedroom to snatch up a navy sweater. Tossing it over her shoulder, she went through her door, closing the self-locking latch behind her. She ran down the top flight of stairs, turned the corner of the landing, and nearly knocked Ty down.
The brush of that hard lean body against her own was bad enough. The scent of good leather and sun-tossed hair and clean man nearly unhinged her. She thrust herself backwards, her palms missing the edges of his open jacket to come in direct contact with T-shirt-covered hard, male flesh. "I'm sorry," she said instantly, dropping her hands. She took another step back and watched him, her eyes wary as a cat's.
The five-foot-square space of the landing shrunk. The wind had plucked at his dark, full head of hair, rearranging it in a style that framed his head. The crystal clear blue eyes were more vividly blue in the tanned face, the mobile mouth lifted slightly in a faint smile. Why was he here? He was
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