Can't Help Falling In Love (23 page)

Randa wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Did he want the answer to be yes so
she’d just get dressed and go? Or no so that they could stay right here?

So, in a new policy, she went with the truth. “I want to stay right here with you.”

It was hard to tell in the shadowy bedroom, but she thought he smiled.

She felt his chest shift against hers as he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I mentioned I don’t sleep. Today I feel better than I have in… I’m not sure
I’ve ever felt as good as I do right here with you. Even if I don’t sleep, I want
to hold you.”

Randa tilted her head up, sorry she couldn’t see his face better. “Is it nightmares?”

The arm around her back tightened before he answered. “Sometimes, but I don’t think
you’re in danger of anything except losing sleep. Most of the time, it’s just…
memories or regrets and I can’t stop the movie in my head. Sometimes meditation helps.
Sometimes books. But sometimes nothing does. I have to run or swim or do something
that exhausts me.”

Randa smiled up at him even though he couldn’t see it. “You should be pretty exhausted
right now. If not, I’ll try harder.”

His rough chuckle was beautiful. She could feel her heart clench and stupid tears
stinging in her eyes. Making him laugh was going to be her new, very short-term goal
in life.

“Exhausted, yeah. But I’ve never felt better in my life, Randa.” He kissed her forehead.
“So glad you showed up here.”

She wanted to pour out her newfound tenderness and tell him how much he’d given her,
but she was determined to be easy to be around today. She was going to act like any
normal girl would. That’s what he wanted. Not busy, determined Randa, the one who
wanted to hatch a crazy plot involving her, Tony, and a hotel of their own somewhere
a little cooler than Memphis but nowhere near Chicago. Not charming, flirty, manipulative
Randa, the one who might try teasing or tears to get Tony to make some crazy promise
which would make moving to Memphis so easy. If she were certain that was what she
wanted, she might even do it. But she wasn’t. So comfortable, easy Randa was going
to make sure that when Tony thought of her, he’d smile. He deserved that and she wanted
to give it to him.

She rested a hand against his abdomen and did her best to ignore just how badly she
wanted to be that regular girl, the one who could look forward to more with Tony.

Chapter Twelve

T
HE CRASH WOKE
Tony from a heavy sleep. It had been so long since he’d had anything other than a
catnap or restless dreams that it took him a minute to figure out where he was and
why he felt so good. Then a stupid grin was impossible to contain. He eased up and
rubbed his eyes before he looked around his dark bedroom. The reason for his good
mood appeared to have gone missing. Maybe she was the crasher. In a place this small,
it wouldn’t be hard to find her. He tossed back the blankets and slid out of the bed
with an easy stretch.

He yanked open a drawer and pulled out shorts. As he stepped into them, he caught
his reflection in the mirror. And the grin was still there. Possibly, it was permanent
now. Tony shook his head as he walked to the doorway. People would not know what to
think if he walked around like this all the time.

Somehow, Randa had managed to get out of bed, rummage around in his drawers to find
his favorite T-shirt, and make a clean getaway without waking him up once.

Since he’d been back home, he’d been doing his best just to fit in, to adjust to everyday
life again. Initially, he’d tried sex as an insomnia cure, but he couldn’t stand the
bars or the noise and sometimes even the touch of a woman’s hand was too much. To
survive Iraq, he needed to be numb. To survive coming home, he needed peace and quiet.
Very few women understood that his need for solitude had nothing to do with them.
First he’d felt like the only asshole who’d forgotten the dance steps and he’d been
pretty angry about it. Therapy helped. Time did too. And now he understood the steps
better but he’d still been afraid to jump in. Somehow that hadn’t mattered with Randa.
And today he felt better, surer, more like somebody who could build a life, a family,
and deserve it.

It was too bad that the picture that came to mind featured Randa front and center.
His dreams were pretty small scale. He couldn’t really imagine her settling for them.

When he saw her dancing around, waving her hand like it was on fire, he wondered if
maybe it wasn’t the sex. Maybe it was Randa. Maybe she had some kind of magic that
made things better.

“What happened?” Tony wrapped his arms around her to grab her hand. He held it still
and saw an ugly broken nail. “I thought you were on fire.” “I dropped the bowl.” Randa
turned her head and glared at him out of the corner of her eye. “
Look
at what it just did to my perfect French manicure.”

Tony nodded and went into his bathroom to dig out fingernail clippers. When he returned,
she was glaring down at her hand. He offered her the clippers. “Here.”

She frowned at him and then took them and cut off the rest of the ugly nail. “God.
Just look at that hand now. Wonder if anybody around here does emergency manicures
on Sunday afternoon.”

His voice was dusty dry when he said, “Emergency manicures. Aren’t they
all
really emergencies?” He moved over to the stack of bowls on the tiny counter. “What
were you going to make?”

Randa was staring down at her hand, and he had to repeat the question before she looked
up. “Oh, no idea. I don’t know how to cook.”

Tony leaned back against the counter. “But now seemed like a good idea to figure it
out?”

Randa crossed one foot over the other and shrugged. “I’m hungry.”

Of course she was. Lunch had been a part of the plan. He was happy they’d scrapped
that plan. He looked at the clock on the stove. Five o’clock. She should be hungry.
“Didn’t want to get dressed and head over for another burger?”

“I didn’t want to leave you.” She grimaced. “Good grief. Kick me out now, please,
for my own sake.”

Tony reached out and tugged her closer. “Why? I’m glad you didn’t want to leave me,
not yet.”

“One night. There’s no way a purchase of the Rock’n’Rolla will go through, and I’ll
be heading to some other place soon.” Randa sighed. “I can’t get attached to the place.
Or to you.”

Tony stiffened and did his best to control the angry growl that wanted to escape.
He had no idea what to say anyway. All that came to mind was “Mine” and he figured
she’d have something to say about that. Instead he said, “Is that what you really
want?”

Randa’s head jerked back. The look in her eyes said she thought he’d lost his mind.
“Are you kidding? Haven’t you been listening to me? What I really want is my own hotel.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Not a family. Not a mortgage or baseball practice or life in the suburbs. She wanted
to run her own hotel. And she’d be really good at it. He sighed. “Right. Well, you’re
Randa Whitmore. You deserve a hotel. You’d do a good job.”

Randa pursed her lips. “Not as good as you, maybe, but still acceptable?”

“No comment.” Tony laughed like she expected him to, but he wanted to argue with her.
He wanted to tell her that she wanted what he wanted or that they could have it all.
But they couldn’t, not if her heart was set on running her own Whitmore hotel. Memphis
and Willodean and the Rock’n’Rolla… this was his family, his home now.

He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes when she leaned against him, her
long blonde hair a messy tangle against his bare chest. He tried not to think about
how well she fit next to him, her head resting against his jaw, and her breasts a
pleasant torment covered in worn cotton. It was already too late for him. He was attached.
“Sometimes you don’t get to make the choice, Randa. This hotel has a way of drawing
people back.”

Her sigh teased goose bumps over his chest and more than anything he wanted to be
connected to her again. But he didn’t want to let her go. And then her stomach growled
so loudly, his answered. “Sounds like the big cat exhibit over at the zoo in here.”

She snorted and straightened. “Maybe we better get dressed and go over to the restaurant.
By the time I figure out what I intended to do with that bowl, we could starve to
death.”

Tony wrapped his hand in the loose knit over her stomach and kneaded her bare thigh
with the other. “I don’t think I want you to get dressed.”

She raised her brow. “Please. Do not tell me that in addition to running a hotel and
maintaining a truly smoking hot body and reading every book ever printed that you
are also a gourmet chef.”

He shook his head. “Not gourmet, no, but I can make the best grilled cheese you ever
put in your mouth.”

Randa frowned. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a grilled cheese.”

Tony nodded. “I was kind of counting on that.” When she laughed, he winked at her
and watched her mouth drop open in shock.

“Did you just wink at me? Who are you and what have you done with Tony? Tony does
not wink.” He put both hands on her shoulders and walked her around to sit in the
desk chair in front of his computer. “Sit there. Watch me do my magic.”

Tony fought the urge to hum as he pulled out everything he needed for the sandwich.
The wink had been shocking. If he hummed a happy tune while he worked, she might make
a run for it. But the idea that he had music in his heart was damn nice.

R
ANDA WAS QUIET
as she watched him work. If he’d been sexy before… and he had been, now he was
heartbreakingly handsome. Shirtless, wearing only soft cotton shorts, and waving a
spatula as he smiled down at his sandwiches.

When she’d first walked into the lobby last week, she’d thought “thug” for about a
second and a half. He’d looked mean, a little dangerous, tough. And the fact that
he could pull all that off while wearing a Hawaiian shirt said something.

Here he looked like the dream she never knew she had. He’d make some lucky woman a
nice wife. A man who smiled while he cooked. One who believed in “always faithful”
enough to have it tattooed on his arm. Maybe he didn’t have a lot, but he had everything
he needed. And he was satisfied.

Randa couldn’t remember ever feeling satisfied. She’d either been too hungry for good
food or her father’s respect or too ambitious or too insecure or too… something.
Different. Alone. Lonely.

“Tony, what is it you want more than anything?”

He glanced over his naked shoulder. “Um, what? Like… give me some direction here.”

Randa leaned back in his chair. “In ten years, where’s Tony?”

“Right here. Working. And I wouldn’t mind coaching T-ball or maybe a soccer team.”
He didn’t look at her and Randa was glad. She could see that in her head. He’d be
an awesome coach. She could imagine him patiently explaining rules to a miniature
version of himself, one who was lucky enough to have two parents who loved him.

She’d never imagined herself cheering from the bleachers. That wasn’t a very Whitmore
thing to do.

But she was beginning to wonder if it might be a Randa thing to do.

She could match flip-flops to team uniforms.

Randa rested her head against the back of the chair. “Is grilled cheese your signature
dish?”

He flipped a sandwich onto a plate and then put the other in the pan. “I have two
gourmet selections. For a hot meal, it’s grilled cheese. For a cold one, it’s peanut
butter and jelly.”

Randa laughed. “Well, as long as you’re getting real nutrition.”

He shrugged. “I like them. I think about getting a grill and trying my hand at a steak
now and then but…” He trailed off and Randa watched him watch the sandwich.

“Too expensive?”

Tony’s head shot up. “Uh, no, I’ve got plenty of money.” His lips twitched as he looked
at her. “I mean, maybe not Whitmore money, but enough to keep up a steady stream of
books and flip-flops.” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, I just…
it seems like a waste for just me.” He flopped the second sandwich down onto another
plate and pulled two bottles of water out of the refrigerator.

Randa stood to pick up her golden brown sandwich. “I don’t think it’s a waste if it
makes you happy, Tony.”

He slowly smiled. “You know, I think you’re right. Besides, I could invite people
over. It wouldn’t have to just be for me.”

Randa tried to ignore the sharp jab of jealousy that hit her somewhere in the vicinity
of her heart at the idea of Tony preparing a beautiful juicy steak for some other
woman. One who probably didn’t even know how lucky she was with her nine-to-five day.

Randa shrugged it off. “Right. Maybe it’s a good thing I travel all the time. I didn’t
get the cooking gene. I’d probably starve to death. And I’d hate every minute.”

Tony laughed and sat down on the couch. “I think if you wanted to learn, you’d be
a chef in no time.” He pulled her down next to him. Randa folded her legs under her
and turned so that her knees touched his. “I think you probably excel at everything
you make up your mind to do.”

Randa felt the little flutter of pleasure deep inside. Maybe it was true. Maybe it
wasn’t. But the idea that Tony thought she could do anything she wanted made her consider
the idea that he was right.

She just had to figure out what that might be. It wasn’t enough to know what she didn’t
want. She didn’t want to live her life on the road anymore. She didn’t want her father
arranging his dynastic alliances for her. She didn’t want to be hungry all the time.

She took a bite of her sandwich and tried to strangle the moan that she felt but couldn’t
completely silence it.

Tony laughed. “I take it you like my rendition of the grilled cheese.”

Randa nodded. “I love cheese. I want to raise a statue to whatever farmer or monk
or milkmaid first came up with the idea of cheese.”