Hidden Scars Read Online Free PDF Page A

grab his coat.
           The wariness in her brown eyes made him want to reassure her he wasn’t about to maul her without permission. Doing so, however, would mean he’d admit he’d been paying attention to the conversation. Letting Sara know might embarrass her. Embarrassing her wasn’t on the agenda for the evening. He wasn’t sure what
was
.
           Why the hell had he asked her to grab a drink? By her own admission, she wasn’t interested in dating. And she was too fragile for him. The fear he’d seen in her, the night they’d been stuck in Chicago, wasn’t something that would have gone away overnight.
           Plus, he hated small talk.
           They stepped into the crowded elevator, Sara close enough the heat of her body warmed his skin.
There
. That was why he’d asked her. The tug of interest from the hotel room was fast becoming an all-out pull, and he wanted to know why.
           The elevator doors opened to the building lobby, and they made their way out onto the busy sidewalk. She turned right, and he went with her, figuring she’d know where to go.
           To his surprise, she led him into a small, mostly empty bar. More like a lounge, he realized, taking in the dark gold walls, the small tables scattered over a scuffed wood floor. The bar itself took up most of the room, the dark wood shelves behind it covered in glittering bottles full of social lubricant.
           She hesitated in the middle of the room, and he kept going, walking to one of the small booths toward the back. He slid onto the bench with a view of the entrance, watching as Sara made herself comfortable on the opposite side of the table. A server came over immediately, and he ordered without thinking. “Jameson’s and water.”
           “Bombay and tonic.”
           Then they sat there, staring at each other, the muted sounds of the bar filling the space between them.
           He felt like he was back on his first date when he was fourteen. Tammy Clare had finally agreed to go out with him, and he’d taken her to Joe’s, the neighborhood diner. It had been awkward. His tongue had been tied in knots, and most of the meal passed sans conversation, which he’d since learned was necessary for a date.
           Conversation. He needed a topic, something innocuous. Something that wouldn’t bore him to death. Unfortunately, everything he wanted to know about her ventured into the
get the fuck away from me, I’m not telling you anything
category.
           Sara blinked first. “Why are we here?”
           He almost sighed with relief. “Here, specifically? I was just following you.”
           She made a face, and he relaxed another fraction. That was the Sara he’d seen around the office. “Don’t be an ass. You practically wear a neon sign that says do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. I’d be surprised if you didn’t tell me to go directly to jail.”
           Something uncoiled inside him, and he chuckled. He relaxed even more at her surprised look. So his smile, his first genuine smile in what felt like days, stayed in place. “Honestly? I don’t know. I got used to you popping in every other day or so and when you didn’t, it felt weird.”
           “And what, you followed your instincts?”
           He shrugged. “Pretty much.”
           One brow shot up, mouth pursing as she studied him. “Huh.” She glanced up as their drinks arrived. “Could I get an order of sweet potato fries?”
           “No problem.”
           The server bounced off to fill the order, and she stared after him. “God, he can’t possibly be old enough to serve liquor. And no one should be that cheerful, working in a bar. It’s unnatural.” She sipped her drink, keeping her gaze on the table.
           French fries. Again. She’d ordered fries with her sandwich, that night in the hotel. The movie she’d been watching.