Wicked Burn by Beth Kery Read Free Book Online

breathlessly. The cabdriver made another wild left turn down Lake Street, causing her to grip tightly at the opening of the hard plastic window that separated the driver from his passengers in order to keep her body upright. The way the guy drove, he was lucky to have a little protection from what Niall assumed were frequently irate customers.
    She floundered both physically and mentally in the seconds of silence that followed.
    “You headed back home?” Vic finally asked.
    Niall closed her eyes and let his voice wash over her, allowing it to still her wildly chaotic emotions. She loved the sound of it. The vague thought struck her that Vic Savian was not a man who should use the phone. Phone talkers couldn’t abide extensive silences, feeling the need to fill the unbearable void of nothingness. His words were as spare and lean as the man himself, calling to mind a stark, rugged landscape that was far, far from being simple.
    “Yes. It’s going to be an early night for me. I’m a little tired after my trip,” she murmured.
    “Tokyo, you said, right?”
    “Yes.”
    Another short silence followed. This time Niall sank into it . . . embraced it instead of fighting it. Her eyes remained closed. Her whole world narrowed down to the fragile, temporary connection with a man via the means of a technology she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
    Where, exactly, was he as he talked to her? In the entryway of The Art, protecting himself from the cool November wind? Or perhaps on the sidewalk with theatergoers strolling by, arm in arm?
    Outside , Niall decided unequivocally. A man like Vic embraced the elements, never shunned them. She could picture him perfectly—his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his back angled to the street in an unconscious gesture of self-protection . . . not from the elements but from people’s prying eyes.
    What did his attractive, dark-haired companion think about Vic’s absence as he talked to Niall and she sat alone at their table, waiting?
    Those were all distant thoughts that had nothing to do with what she asked him next.
    “Where did you grow up?”
    “In a li’l pissant town called Avery, South Dakota, just outside the Black Hills. I’ve lived in Montana for the past fifteen years, though. Why?”
    “No reason,” she murmured. “I like your accent, that’s all.”
    “I don’t have an accent. You do, though.”
    Niall laughed softly at his matter-of-fact declaration. She could picture the small smile curving his lips perfectly. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, thoroughly mesmerized, wanting him closer, even in this nonphysical sense.
    “What accent is that, exactly?”
    “The one that sounds like you grew up on the North Shore . . . Glencoe? Lake Forest?”
    Her eyelids popped open. His assumption and something in the tone of his voice had stung her—although he had been entirely correct . . .
    “Kenilworth, actually.”
    “Ummm.”
    The cabdriver made another wicked right into the circular drive in front of Riverview Towers. It hurt, his little grunt of acknowledgment, as if she’d suddenly confirmed something nasty about herself to him, as if growing up in an affluent neighborhood was a shameful crime.
    “I should probably go. I’m home,” she said huskily, realizing that the words sounded far more intimate to her ears than she’d intended.
    “I’ll probably be working late tomorrow but I’d like to have dinner with you afterward if you’re available.”
    “I’m available,” Niall said rapidly. She closed her eyes in mortification when she realized how that must have sounded to him. His quick bark of masculine laughter suggested that he’d liked her response, however.
    “I’ll give you a call around eight and tell you how things are looking on my end. Okay?”
    “Okay. Have a good night.”
    “Night.”
    Niall was distracted as she walked through Riverview Towers’ luxurious lobby. She didn’t realize why she was so preoccupied until she reached