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Two days after Erica sent me away, I'm just getting dressed after a shower when I hear something that makes me stop breathing, sure I must've hallucinated it.
"Lachlan? Are you in here?"
Erica's voice. I must be off my head so completely that I think I hear her voice when I know I couldn't have. I'd given the concierge instructions to bring her to my suite immediately if she turned up at the hotel asking for me. But that day on her porch, Erica essentially told me to sod off.
Has she finally forgiven me?
I yank my clothes on, then walk out of the bedroom and pull the door shut behind me, hurrying down the hallway toward the living room. It's no surprise she didn't knock considering my explicit instructions to the concierge. I slow my pace as I approach the living room, not wanting Erica to think I'm so desperate to see her that I'm racing down the hall. I suppose that's manly pride, which I've displayed too much of since the day I met Erica.
I cross through the foyer into the living room.
And she's there. Waiting for me. She looks as bonnie as ever in her white peasant blouse and blue jeans, and though I want to kiss her right now, I know I need to wait. She might be here strictly to inform me that she's obtained a court order to keep me away from her.
She's leaning against one of the two curved sofas in the living room, just past a pair of nested black tables. The sunshine beaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows casts a heavenly glow on her skin and hair. Aye, she is an angel.
And I clipped her wings.
She pushes away from the sofa, barring her arms over her chest and lifting her chin.
Defiance looks good on her.
Seeing the lass again triggers a wave of elation so powerful that I can't stop myself from grinning at her like an eejit. "Erica, I'm so glad you're here."
I take a step toward her.
She stumbles backward, holding up a hand, palm out. "No. You stay over there."
My elation crumbles away. I'd known I would probably need to grovel again, but I hadn't expected her to refuse to come near me. This is part of my penance, and I will do whatever is necessary to prove my sincerity—even if that means standing ten feet away from her.
Hugging herself, she backs up another step and shoves her hands under her arms as if she's cold. Her face has a faint pallor that I hadn't noticed until I came closer.
"Are you ill?" I ask.
"No." Her legs quiver enough that I can see it, and her knees start to buckle, though she doesn't fall down. "I'm f—"
I start to move closer, needing to touch her, but I halt with one hand outstretched, suspended in midair between us. "Erica?"
She straightens and waves at the surroundings, speaking in a breezy tone that's not believable at all. "Thought you had simple tastes."
"I do." Lowering my hand slowly, I consider what this suite, the most expensive one in the most expensive hotel in Chicago, must seem like to her. "There are two conventions in town and baseball games too. This was the only room I could get."
"Poor you, stuck in this hovel."
My lips curve up at the corners. "You almost smiled. Teasing me is a good sign, I hope."
She hunches her shoulders, focusing on my chest instead of my face. "I saw Presley a few days ago."
I'd already known that since her mother informed me the other day. Ever since, I've wondered what on earth could've possessed her. I lock my arms over my chest and frown at her. "Why the bloody hell would you do that? After what he did to you."
She says nothing for a moment, but finally, she lifts her gaze to my face. "You thought Presley was doing to me what your wife did to you. That's why you attacked him repeatedly, why you would never speak his name, and why you're so upset I went to see him."
"Aye. Wasn't it obvious months ago?"
She flaps her arms and huffs. "No, not to me. If you wanted me to understand that, you should've told me, for heaven's sake. I'm not telepathic."
I bite into my upper lip, my shoulders flagging. "Aye, you're right. My fault."
"Good. We agree on one thing, anyway."
