The Collector
Page 57

“Anything not involving mushrooms, anchovies or cucumbers. Otherwise, I’m not fussy.”
“Okay. I’ll be downstairs.”
She went back, took off the dress—more reluctantly than she’d imagined. After hanging it up again, she brought the makeup down to almost normal, tied her hair back in a tail.
And in the mirror looked like Lila again.
“And that concludes our performance for the night.”
She went down, found him in the living room, on the phone.
“I’ll let you know when I find out. Whatever you can do. Yeah, me too. Talk later.” He set the phone down. “My sister.”
“Which one?”
“Giselle. She says hi.”
“Oh, well, hi back. What are we eating?”
“I went Italian. My go-to place does a hell of a chicken parm. No mushrooms.”
“Sounds just right.”
“I’ll get you another glass of wine.”
“Ice water first. Twirling’s thirsty work.”
She walked over to the front window, watched the people stroll, strut and scramble. The streetlights laid pools, splashes of white, for them to slide into, slide out of.
Later than she realized, she thought. What a strange day—a long, strange, complicated day.
“You have a real show here,” she said when she heard him come back. “No binoculars needed. So many people with so much to do. Thanks.” She took the water he offered. “I love watching New York, more than any other city I’ve been in. There’s always something to see, someone with somewhere to go. And a surprise around every corner.”
She eased a hip down on the wide windowsill. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m going to have to eat and run.”
“You’re staying.”
She turned her face from the window to him. “Am I?”
“It’s safe here—I beefed up the security. Luke’s going to stay at Julie’s—just a precaution.”
“Is that what they call it in polite circles?”
“He did.” Ash smiled a little. “He said he was taking your usual room.”
“Which leaves me without a bed—or here with a bed, but not my luggage.”
“I sent for it.”
“You . . . sent for it.”
“It doesn’t have far to come. The delivery guy should have it here in a few minutes now.”
“There you go, lining it all up again.”
She pushed off the sill, started across the room.
“Where are you going?”
She waved a hand in the air, kept walking. “Wine. I’ll get my own.”
“Well, get me one while you’re at it.”
He smiled to himself. She just fascinated him, he had to admit. So much compassion, such an open mind, a keenly observant eye. And a spine that could stiffen like an iron rod.
He imagined that’s how she’d walked away from his father. With fire in her eyes and steel in her back.
When she came back with two glasses, the fire had died to a smolder. “I think we need to get a few things—”
“That’ll be either food or luggage,” he said when his buzzer went off. “Hold that thought.”
It turned out to be her luggage, wheeled right in. And the deliveryman strolled out again pocketing whatever denomination of bill Ash had handed him.
“I pay my own way, too.”
“When you make the arrangements, you can pay. No problem.”
He didn’t mind the fire, or the smolder, but he was a little weary of confrontations, so tried a different method.
“It’s been a hell of a day, Lila. I’ll get through the rest of it better knowing you’re here, you’re safe. You could’ve opted for the hotel. You didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. But—”
“You came straight to me, because you wanted to help. Let me help now. You stay here tonight, and I’ll take you to your new job in the morning. Or afternoon. Whenever you go there.”
He’d said goodbye to his brother, she thought—complete with white butterflies. He’d lost an uncle in a horrible way. And, with her shoved in the middle, argued with his father.
Add it all up, it equaled being cut a break.
“I appreciate the help. It’s better to ask first.”
“I heard that somewhere, once.”
“It’s generally true. I’m going to change out of this dress before the food gets here. I feel like I’ve worn it for a week.”
“We’ll get these upstairs, then.” He wheeled the suitcases to the elevator. “You can have any room you want. Sleeping with me isn’t a requirement.”
“That’s good. I wouldn’t like the requirement.” She waited for him to open the grate. “But if it was an option, that would be just fine.”
He turned to her. “It’s definitely an option.” And pulled her against him.
She was caught in the kiss—a little fierce, a lot possessive this time—and halfway into the elevator with him when her ears began to buzz.
“Goddamn it. Chicken parm,” he murmured against her mouth. “Fast delivery.”
“Oh. I guess we need to get that.”
“Give me a minute.”
He went to the door, checked, then opened it to a short guy in a ball cap.
“Yo, Mr. Archer. How ya doing?”
“Good enough, Tony.”
“Got yer two chicken parms, yer two side salads, yer specialty breadsticks. On yer tab, like you asked.”
“Appreciate it.”
Ash exchanged another bill for the large takeout bag.
“Thanks. You have a good one, Mr. Archer.”
“I will.” Ash closed the door, locked it with his eyes on Lila. “I definitely will.”
Lila smiled. “I bet that parm will warm up just fine in the microwave. Later.”
“We’re going to find out.” He set the bag down on a table and followed her crooked finger and smile into the elevator.
Fourteen
He yanked the grate closed, slapped a hand on the button to take them up. And as the elevator ground its way to the third floor, he pressed her back against the side wall. His hands swept up, from her hips, her waist, her ribs, the sides of her br**sts, sparking quick little fires on the way until he caught her face between them.