Second Chance Girl
Page 29
He frowned a manly frown. “I can take my own pills, Violet. You don’t need to get up in the middle of the night to take care of me.”
“It’s what I live for. Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll use my phone alarm. You’re not going to talk me out of it, Ulrich. You were in a bad accident. Your body needs time to recover. Just say thank-you and go with it.”
“Thank you.”
“See how easy that was? Now let’s talk dinner.” She handed him the room service menu. “Your nurse said you might not have much of an appetite for a couple of days, but you do need something.”
Instead of glancing at the offerings, he studied her. “I’m sorry all this was thrust upon you. You must have better things to be doing with your time.”
“My life is easily transported. I have my clothes and my computer. I do most of my business through the mail and over the internet. There’s a sign on my storefront explaining how to get in touch with me. If anyone needs an emergency alteration, I’m very reachable.”
“You’re too kind.”
Drat. Kind? She wanted to be sexy or enticing. Had the man forgotten how he’d kissed her and invited her back to his room? Had he changed his mind about all that? Yes, he was injured and she wasn’t expecting anything to happen between them, but a slight hint of interest or a mildly inappropriate remark would be nice.
Nursing was hard, she thought with a sigh. “All right, Your Lordship. Dinner. How about some nice soup and maybe chicken fingers?”
“I didn’t know chickens had fingers.”
She winced. “Now I have a visual and can never eat them again.”
“My apologies. If I order them, will your world be restored?”
“I’m just not sure.”
“Then I shall vow to work harder.”
If only, she thought, holding in a smile. If only...
CHAPTER TEN
MATHIAS COULDN’T SHAKE the feeling of having forgotten something important. It was there—whispering in the back of his mind, only he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what the hell it was. He wanted to say it didn’t matter, only along with that nagging what was it? sensation was the feeling that it was important. Really important.
He returned his attention to the glass giraffe in front of him. This was the third one he’d made and he was starting to believe he was getting where he needed to go. The sense of movement had grown with each piece. This was his best one yet, and the tallest.
He liked the expression on Millie’s face, the way her tail curved and the lines of her torso. She looked as if she could come to life at any moment.
He knew the next step was to start on the other half of the piece. To try to create Carol in glass. While he knew he was onto something with the image he’d sketched the other morning, he wasn’t sure he could reproduce any part of the woman in a medium as static as glass. Carol was alive. She moved and talked and breathed. How could he reduce that to glass? What made the concept even more challenging was whenever he thought about how to begin, he couldn’t hold a single image of her in his mind. She was always changing, shifting, morphing. First smiling, then talking, then laughing. And then it got complicated.
Lately, whenever he thought about her, he imagined her naked. A totally dumb-ass thing to do, but there it was. His guyness taking over his brain. He could practically taste her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. That line of thought led him other places he had no business going and then he was daydreaming instead of working, and dealing with a painful erection.
He had no idea how to solve the problem. Okay, that wasn’t true. He had several ideas, all of which would probably have her slapping him upside the head. Still, a guy could dream...and he did.
He lightly touched the glass statue of Millie, then surrendered to the inevitable. He couldn’t avoid her—not when he had to tell her about Ronan and the donation. Better to do it now and get it over with. Then he would go home and do his damnedest to figure out what was bugging him, and how he could stop dreaming about the one woman he could never have.
* * *
CAROL PULLED INTO her driveway only to find Mathias and Sophie sitting on her porch. The beagle immediately jumped up and began wagging her tail, but Mathias’s feelings were more difficult to read.
That made two of them, Carol thought as she parked her car and slowly got out. She still couldn’t define all the emotions swirling around inside of her. Anger, embarrassment, anger, confusion and maybe some, you know, anger. She wanted to grab him and shake him until he either admitted he remembered but now regretted what had happened or looked at her so blankly she had to accept that he really didn’t recall what had happened.
Neither scenario was especially happy, but if she had to pick, she preferred a brain freeze to revulsion.
Sophie rushed over, her leash trailing behind her. Carol crouched down to greet the happy dog.
“How’s my best girl?” she asked, rubbing Sophie’s face and dodging kisses.
“She knows you say that to all your animals,” Mathias told her. “She’s not impressed.”
Sophie continued the greeting dance. Carol forgot to be mad and smiled at him. “All evidence to the contrary?”
“Yeah, there is that.”
She straightened and tried to find her inner rage, but it seemed to have faded. Ah, the power of the beagle. Or maybe it was looking at Mathias. Just the sight of him was enough to right her world which was, considering their last encounter and his complete lack of reaction, incredibly frustrating.
“So how are—”
Things. She’d been going to say how are things. Only she couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare when she caught sight of the glass piece sitting next to Mathias on her small porch.
The statue was maybe two feet tall. Slim and delicate, the image of Millie was so perfect, so lifelike, that she half expected it to start walking. Despite the lack of color of the glass, Mathias had captured the giraffe’s features—her wide eyes, the tilt of her head, the long, elegant lines of her neck. While there weren’t any markings, there were still darker areas indicating the pattern of her coat. No, that wasn’t right—the glass was clear, so were the markings etched?
She moved toward it and put out a hand, then pulled it back. Mathias gave her a lopsided smile.
“It’s yours, Carol. You can pick it up and everything.”
She stared at him. “Mine?”
“I made it for you. I’ve been working on this idea.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Yes, this is for you. I know how you feel about Millie and I thought you’d like to have it.”
She carefully touched the cool glass, half expecting it to move, as Millie would. Everything about the piece was perfect.
“I don’t understand,” she breathed. “I didn’t know you could—” She pressed her lips together. “You never make things like this.”
“I make what I make because I want to,” he told her. “Not because I don’t know how to do anything else.”
But why? The question went unasked. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or say the wrong thing, yet what was he doing, making plates and vases when he could create something so amazing?
He stood and called for Sophie, then pointed to the door. “I’d like to talk to you about something if you have a second.”
“It’s what I live for. Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll use my phone alarm. You’re not going to talk me out of it, Ulrich. You were in a bad accident. Your body needs time to recover. Just say thank-you and go with it.”
“Thank you.”
“See how easy that was? Now let’s talk dinner.” She handed him the room service menu. “Your nurse said you might not have much of an appetite for a couple of days, but you do need something.”
Instead of glancing at the offerings, he studied her. “I’m sorry all this was thrust upon you. You must have better things to be doing with your time.”
“My life is easily transported. I have my clothes and my computer. I do most of my business through the mail and over the internet. There’s a sign on my storefront explaining how to get in touch with me. If anyone needs an emergency alteration, I’m very reachable.”
“You’re too kind.”
Drat. Kind? She wanted to be sexy or enticing. Had the man forgotten how he’d kissed her and invited her back to his room? Had he changed his mind about all that? Yes, he was injured and she wasn’t expecting anything to happen between them, but a slight hint of interest or a mildly inappropriate remark would be nice.
Nursing was hard, she thought with a sigh. “All right, Your Lordship. Dinner. How about some nice soup and maybe chicken fingers?”
“I didn’t know chickens had fingers.”
She winced. “Now I have a visual and can never eat them again.”
“My apologies. If I order them, will your world be restored?”
“I’m just not sure.”
“Then I shall vow to work harder.”
If only, she thought, holding in a smile. If only...
CHAPTER TEN
MATHIAS COULDN’T SHAKE the feeling of having forgotten something important. It was there—whispering in the back of his mind, only he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what the hell it was. He wanted to say it didn’t matter, only along with that nagging what was it? sensation was the feeling that it was important. Really important.
He returned his attention to the glass giraffe in front of him. This was the third one he’d made and he was starting to believe he was getting where he needed to go. The sense of movement had grown with each piece. This was his best one yet, and the tallest.
He liked the expression on Millie’s face, the way her tail curved and the lines of her torso. She looked as if she could come to life at any moment.
He knew the next step was to start on the other half of the piece. To try to create Carol in glass. While he knew he was onto something with the image he’d sketched the other morning, he wasn’t sure he could reproduce any part of the woman in a medium as static as glass. Carol was alive. She moved and talked and breathed. How could he reduce that to glass? What made the concept even more challenging was whenever he thought about how to begin, he couldn’t hold a single image of her in his mind. She was always changing, shifting, morphing. First smiling, then talking, then laughing. And then it got complicated.
Lately, whenever he thought about her, he imagined her naked. A totally dumb-ass thing to do, but there it was. His guyness taking over his brain. He could practically taste her breasts, feeling the weight of them in his hands. That line of thought led him other places he had no business going and then he was daydreaming instead of working, and dealing with a painful erection.
He had no idea how to solve the problem. Okay, that wasn’t true. He had several ideas, all of which would probably have her slapping him upside the head. Still, a guy could dream...and he did.
He lightly touched the glass statue of Millie, then surrendered to the inevitable. He couldn’t avoid her—not when he had to tell her about Ronan and the donation. Better to do it now and get it over with. Then he would go home and do his damnedest to figure out what was bugging him, and how he could stop dreaming about the one woman he could never have.
* * *
CAROL PULLED INTO her driveway only to find Mathias and Sophie sitting on her porch. The beagle immediately jumped up and began wagging her tail, but Mathias’s feelings were more difficult to read.
That made two of them, Carol thought as she parked her car and slowly got out. She still couldn’t define all the emotions swirling around inside of her. Anger, embarrassment, anger, confusion and maybe some, you know, anger. She wanted to grab him and shake him until he either admitted he remembered but now regretted what had happened or looked at her so blankly she had to accept that he really didn’t recall what had happened.
Neither scenario was especially happy, but if she had to pick, she preferred a brain freeze to revulsion.
Sophie rushed over, her leash trailing behind her. Carol crouched down to greet the happy dog.
“How’s my best girl?” she asked, rubbing Sophie’s face and dodging kisses.
“She knows you say that to all your animals,” Mathias told her. “She’s not impressed.”
Sophie continued the greeting dance. Carol forgot to be mad and smiled at him. “All evidence to the contrary?”
“Yeah, there is that.”
She straightened and tried to find her inner rage, but it seemed to have faded. Ah, the power of the beagle. Or maybe it was looking at Mathias. Just the sight of him was enough to right her world which was, considering their last encounter and his complete lack of reaction, incredibly frustrating.
“So how are—”
Things. She’d been going to say how are things. Only she couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare when she caught sight of the glass piece sitting next to Mathias on her small porch.
The statue was maybe two feet tall. Slim and delicate, the image of Millie was so perfect, so lifelike, that she half expected it to start walking. Despite the lack of color of the glass, Mathias had captured the giraffe’s features—her wide eyes, the tilt of her head, the long, elegant lines of her neck. While there weren’t any markings, there were still darker areas indicating the pattern of her coat. No, that wasn’t right—the glass was clear, so were the markings etched?
She moved toward it and put out a hand, then pulled it back. Mathias gave her a lopsided smile.
“It’s yours, Carol. You can pick it up and everything.”
She stared at him. “Mine?”
“I made it for you. I’ve been working on this idea.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. Yes, this is for you. I know how you feel about Millie and I thought you’d like to have it.”
She carefully touched the cool glass, half expecting it to move, as Millie would. Everything about the piece was perfect.
“I don’t understand,” she breathed. “I didn’t know you could—” She pressed her lips together. “You never make things like this.”
“I make what I make because I want to,” he told her. “Not because I don’t know how to do anything else.”
But why? The question went unasked. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or say the wrong thing, yet what was he doing, making plates and vases when he could create something so amazing?
He stood and called for Sophie, then pointed to the door. “I’d like to talk to you about something if you have a second.”
