CHAPTER THREE
Gracie Luera’s hero must have a problem with mood swings. No sooner had he brutalized the young thief, a look of menace on his handsome face, than he reached for his cell phone, read a text, and threw his head back and guffawed. A second text followed and after reading it, he was bent over, his large hands on thick thighs, and laughing like a man possessed.
Maybe my purse thief isn’t the only nut in the jar.
She didn’t see anything so damn funny. In fact, she still shook as the squad car drove off with her purse bandit. The pain on her cheekbone wasn’t what made her tremble. She was used to a zealous basketball player knocking her over or jabbing her with his elbow, but this experience of being viciously robbed and struck with malice was very different.
Her gaze stayed on the snappy dresser currently in a fit of hysterics while she slowly grabbed the handle of her pink suitcase and slung her matching briefcase over her shoulder. She didn’t want any sudden movements to startle another mood change.“Thanks for your help. You were a lifesaver.”
Nut flavored though you may be.
She pivoted to get inside, away from crazy man in a suit.
His hand wrapped around her bicep. “Don’t hurry off. Gracie, isn’t it?” His face was now composed with a solemn expression.
“Yes, it’s Gracie.” She forced a smile, waiting for the next mood-change-train to come barreling through Times Square. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember names well when I get nervous and I’ve forgotten yours.” She stepped back once, then twice. He stepped forward once, then twice, as if he was determined to be in her space.
Crap, he wasn’t going to turn into a puppy and start following her, was he? Her girly parts zinged a little. They took her on a momentary imaginary ride. A sensual one where he might lick her ankles and the backs of her knees. Lord have mercy on her hormones. Now she was having mood swings from self-satisfaction to self-preservation from this stranger.
She didn’t want to appear rude. Maybe she could appease him before she hurried off. “You’re certainly a thoughtful man. I mean to run after a crook for a perfect stranger. You deserve a Good Samaritan award. At the least, a t-shirt that reads ‘Hero’.”
He waved her remark away with an open hand. “Think nothing of it.” The corners of his mouth twitched and damn if he didn’t start laughing again. He wiped tears from his eyes. “God, I love it when their plans to control me go to shit.”
Whose plans? The psychiatric ward’s?
Once he worked through that mood, he seemed to shift into caring mode. Oh, this guy was clearly off his meds.
He took her hand in his warm one and covered it with his other. “It’s okay if you don’t recall my name.” The man had the boldness to wink. “There’s an old saying my momma uses often, especially when she’s pouring my morning coffee. ‘Strangers are just friends we haven’t met yet.’”
Oh, great, a momma’s boy with issues.
“The name’s Webb Mohanty. Please, call me Webb.” There was a hint of southern accent in his deep voice that revved her girly bits. Unfortunately, they liked a man with an accent as well as the bad boy type. Gracie had always been drawn to danger, too, but she was trying to change that. Her strategy? Avoid men.
“Maybe you’ve heard of me? Does my name ring a bell? Webb Mohanty, best damn running back in the country. Does football interest you?”
“No. I’m more of a basketball person. Although I totally like the tights in their uniforms.” She smiled as sweetly as she could, preparing for a mood shift.
“Tights? Like ballet dancers wear?” He hulked over her or tried.
Six months ago, when she’d set herself on this path of celibacy, she’d promised herself never to allow another man to intimidate her—not like her mother consistently had. In direct opposition to her weakness for abusive jerks, Gracie had learned to guard her private space, even if it meant being alone. She couldn’t proclaim to like her loneliness, but it was better than being verbally abused.
“Fucking tights,” Mr. Mood Change mumbled and she laughed until her sides hurt.
He nodded and a smile blazed. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you? Trying to see if you can get a rise out of me. Well, everyone knows I’m too even tempered for that.”
She snickered. “What you are is too full of yourself.” Her briefcase strap slipped off her shoulder and she jerked it back in place.
“Now, don’t be mean.” His finger trailed down her cheek and a shiver skittered over her skin. “Your full name would be Gracie…”
She wasn’t about to tell this stranger her full name, even if he had retrieved her purse. Even if he was ‘the best damn running’…whatever…whatever. Yes, that was cold, but she’d only gotten off the plane less than an hour ago and she’d already been hit and mugged. She needed to exert more caution. Still, she didn’t want to appear rude. Hard to tell what mood he’d shift into next. “I’d be happy if you just called me Gracie. All my friends do.”
He smiled with the easy charm of a well-practiced man and her knees wobbled a bit. Good God, this tall, dark, blue-eyed man was going to be the hero of her next book, man bun and all. He was most definitely sexy as sin in that suit, no matter what kind of mood fluctuations he suffered.
He shook her hand. “Okay, Gracie.” An electrical charge of some type—static maybe?—tingled her palm, making her want to rub it over him to ease the vibrations. The unwanted sensual pulsations took a direct route to her nipples and then traveled the southern trail. She squeezed her thighs together. She couldn’t be attracted to this guy. She wouldn’t allow it.
As if he’d had the same reaction, he let go of her hand and she had the greatest urge to check his pale blue shirt to see if there were singe marks at his nipples. Thank the heavens this would be their only meeting. He was way too strange for her liking—and so was her response.
“I guess I should check to make sure my things are still inside my handbag.” Gracie rummaged through her purse with trembling hands. She opened her wallet, thumbed through her cash and credit cards, and smiled. “Everything’s here! I can’t believe you were able to get it back for me. I could kiss you!”
Webb extended his hand in a stop gesture. He was all scowls and attitude now. “Please, I’ve been kissed by strange women enough today.” He shuddered.“I never knew accountants were such a wild bunch. I was damn near raped in an elevator in this hotel!” His thumb jerked to where she was about to check in.
She coughed in an effort to hide the giggle ready to spring forth. “Accountants?”
“Yeah. I suppose they’re accountants.” He shrugged those wide muscled shoulders. “There’re signs everywhere inside for RWA, which I presume are Registered Women Accountants. Although from what I’ve experienced, they’re more like Rowdy Accountants.”
Oh dear God, he’s just too cute in his ignorance. Her hand fiddled with the straps of her purse while she tried not to laugh. “Oh, poor baby. It must be such a burden to be tall, dark, and hunkalicious.” He spared her a testosterone filled look of overconfidence, which she chose to ignore. “Seriously, how can I thank you?”That might be a dumb question.
Eyes the color of sapphires studied her before a slow sexy smile brightened his seriously handsome features. “Be my date tonight for a few drinks with my team’s management. I play for the Miami Thunder and some of us are in the city for a meeting. Dress up.” He squeezed her hand. “There will be lots of press there.”
She would like to see Webb again. He’d be prime research material, not to mention he’d be gorgeous to look at over a margarita…over a cup of coffee…over her shoulder as he… Time out! My panties are getting damp over this man of many moods.
“I’m not sure I have anything dressy enough to wear.” She glanced at her suitcase and did a quick mental inventory.
Webb stared at her luggage, too. “You mean you don’t have one pretty, sexy outfit in that big pink thing?”
She bristled. “I came here for meetings and workshops, not photo ops and seduction.”
His fingers forked through her long hair and she stepped back to avoid his touch. She stumbled over her suitcase and strong arms banded around her back and waist to keep her from falling. “Careful,” his voice was low and intimate as he held her against his solid frame. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” His cheek rubbed against hers and sparked feelings of arousal she hadn’t had in ages. She inhaled. Woods and lime, a heady combination on a handsome man.
“Let me take your luggage in for you while you register. That way I’ll know what room you’ll be in so I can come for you tonight.” He released his hold on her. “You did agree to go with me, right? Like you, I’ve had a rough day. Knowing I’ll have a beautiful woman on my arm tonight will give me something to look forward to.” His hand swept over her hair. “How tall are you?”
“Six-one.” Finding a guy who could handle her stature had always been a problem. If she hadn’t had her luggage and briefcase to worry about and hadn’t worn a tight skirt, she could have chased down the thief herself. She smiled. Maybe if she bugged Webb a little she could get out of this date she couldn’t recall accepting. “Aren’t you intimidated by my height?”
He grabbed the handle to her luggage and placed a hand at the small of her back as he inclined his lips to her ear. “Baby, I can handle whatever you’ve got. Bring it on.”
Well, hell, she hadn’t been expecting that.