Out of Time by Monique Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

“Miss—”
    “Elizabeth. You know, you haven’t said it once.”
    Simon took a deep breath. “Elizabeth.”
    She blushed a little and grinned. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    What could he say? Yes, it was. That saying it meant he’d crossed some invisible line he’d drawn for himself? That the mere thought of her name made his stomach drop with desire? That the way it fell across his lips felt like a prayer he wasn’t worthy of?
    “No,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
    “Good,” she said with a smile and took a step into the dark apartment. She found the light switch quickly and turned it on.
    Simon picked up the case and followed behind. She stopped a few feet inside the door. He was about to ask what was wrong, when he saw it for himself.
    The bed. There was one bed. One tiny, little double bed, for them both to share.

Chapter Five
    ELIZABETH COULD FEEL SIMON’S presence behind her. When she’d pulled up short, he’d practically run into her and now they were standing so close they were almost touching. Touching. The bed. Those two thoughts definitely needed to be separated, and so did they. She tore herself away from staring at the small bed and walked over to the window.
    The room was musty and could use some fresh air. And so could she. “Is it me or is it hot in here?” she asked, and then yanked open the drapes.
    Simon cleared his throat and set the suitcase down. “Yes, it is rather warm.”
    She tried to jimmy the window open, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck.”
    “Let me,” Simon said from close behind her. Too close behind her.
    She turned around, and they were almost touching again. She smiled nervously and side-stepped out of his way. “I’ll unpack,” she said, desperate for something to do.
    For all her bravado about making this an adventure, she hadn’t considered this part of it. Alone in a bedroom with Simon Cross.
    She was generally comfortable around men. Working with them, playing with them, but never simply being with them. She’d grown up surrounded by men. Her mother had left her and her father when she was too young to remember. It had been just the two of them, so she tagged along wherever he went. And he went a lot of places. Not the typical American childhood, growing up in back rooms and pool halls in towns all across Texas, but she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. She’d learned an awful lot about people. How to read someone’s face when they’d drawn an inside straight. How a man’s hands told his life story. Or how the truth was easier to keep track of than a lie. But, even in all that, she hadn’t learned much about being a woman.
    She’d had relationships, but somehow there was always something eluding her, like there was a secret handshake she didn’t know. Each time a man asked her out she was surprised, flattered and a little frightened. Some had lasted weeks, some months, but inevitably, her insecurities brought things to a premature end. Not that she’d been heartbroken over any of them. They were good men, most of them, but none of them had managed to force her heart to overrule her head.
    “Bloody piece of…” Simon grumbled and took off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair.
    She opened the suitcase and put their old clothes away in the small dresser and armoire that served as a closet. It was a silly thing to do really. She didn’t expect to be staying. But she’d lived in hotels most of her life and the first thing she always did was unpack. It made the room hers instead of yet another place to stay.
    Simon rolled up his sleeves and hit the wooden window frame with his fist. After a few more good bangs, it finally opened. A breeze blew into the room, but the night air wasn’t much cooler than the hotbox of their apartment.
    He turned around triumphantly, and she offered him a smile.
    “Here we are,” she said.
    Simon stared back, and the awkwardness hovered between them. They’d spent hour after hour in closer