Serial Bride by Ann Voss Peterson Page B

than claiming. But the fire his lips ignited burned to her toes.
    She couldn’t let herself want this. She couldn’t let herself take that step to the edge. Placing her hands against his chest, she pushed him away. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
    His eyes burned into her, fanning the fire. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.” But he didn’t look as though he thought he was out of line. He looked as though he wanted to kiss her again.
    Trembles moved through her like water boiling under her skin. She could say she didn’t want to seehim, didn’t want to be around him, and for God’s sake, didn’t want to kiss him. But she’d be lying on all three counts. And she’d bet he could see straight through those lies. “It’s not a good time.” He couldn’t argue with that.
    He nodded as if accepting her answer. “I hope there will be a good time. Someday.”
    She did, too. But she couldn’t tell him that. She could hardly admit it to herself. Not that hope would change anything. No matter what she wanted, no matter what he promised, she knew how things would turn out. And she couldn’t let herself take that leap off the cliff when she knew too well how painful it was to land on those jagged rocks below.
    â€œI need some time by myself. It’s very late and I’m tired and…” She trailed off. She could see in his eyes that he knew what she was saying. That she didn’t need sleep as much as she wanted to escape him.
    But this time he didn’t argue. He didn’t point out their deal. This time he merely nodded and started walking in the direction of the BMW. “I’ll drop you off at the hotel.”
    Â 
    T HE HOTEL PHONE jangled Sylvie from a dead sleep. She bolted upright in bed. Where was she? What time was it? Who could be calling? The details of the day before hit her along with the second ring. Heartpounding, she grabbed the phone in sweat-slicked hands and held it to her ear. “Hello?”
    â€œMs. Hayes?” A deep voice, calm. Not Bryce. Not Perreth.
    â€œWho is this?”
    â€œCharles Rowe. I’m a resident at the hospital.”
    Sylvie’s heart tripped into double time. “Reed? Is he okay?”
    â€œMr. McCaskey? Actually, yes. He’s asking for you.”
    â€œHe’s awake?”
    â€œHe insisted I call. I’m sorry it’s so early, but he said it was urgent.”
    She glanced at the clock: 4:00 a.m. It wasn’t even dawn yet. But that didn’t matter. Reed was awake. He was going to be okay. And she could talk to him. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
    â€œHe’ll be happy to hear it.”
    Sylvie didn’t wait for goodbyes. She dropped the phone in the cradle, untangled her legs from the sheets and raced into the bathroom.
    She ripped off the Chicago Bears T-shirt she’d been sleeping in and slipped on a bra, jeans and a sweater. After brushing her teeth and shoving her feet into a pair of boots, she grabbed her jacket and was out the door.
    Outside the hotel, the city was still dark. The streets stretched quiet under the streetlights’ glow.Only an occasional car drove by. She hadn’t thought about how she was going to get to the hospital. She glanced back at the hotel lobby. It would take time to call a cab. Time she didn’t want to waste.
    Of course, she could call Bryce.
    She shook her head. As tired as she’d been when he dropped her off at the hotel, she hadn’t been able to fall asleep for more than a hour. Instead she’d stared at the ceiling and tried to untangle her feelings. She hadn’t succeeded. If anything, she’d felt more tempted to fling herself off the emotional cliff and more afraid he wouldn’t be there to catch her if she did.
    The roar of an engine saved her from her thoughts. A block away, a Madison Metro bus lumbered toward her. A bus. Perfect. She dashed the