on up. Elevator’s through the doors and to the left.”
There was a click—and a buzzing sound as he let her in.
She pulled open the door and stepped inside. The tiled floor of the lobby gleamed as if freshly waxed and potted trees were spaced throughout the small area. There was a small table flanked by two chairs to the right, adding a homey yet classy touch. An elevator waited and she pushed the up arrow button. Seconds later the door opened and she stepped inside the car.
She could do this. She could see him and speak to him in a businesslike way and explain what she intended to do. She didn’t need anything from him. Didn’t want anything from him. He was completely and utterly off the hook.
The doors slid open at the fourth floor and she ran her hands down her skirt and then over her hair, making sure the knot at the back was smooth and neat. Stepping out, she started down the hallway. Number 401 was on the left, 402 on the right. Two more doors to go. She would knock. Smile. Begin with “you must be surprised to see me...”
A door opened and Christopher stepped into the hall. Her feet halted and she stared at him awkwardly, her practiced words flying out of her head. She’d definitely gotten the right guy. Around six feet, with dark hair that curled around his collar and gorgeous chocolaty eyes that crinkled in the corners. He wore jeans and a T-shirt but was in his bare feet, and his hair was glistening, as though he’d recently got out of the shower. Oh boy.
He was staring at her, too, like she was a stranger. “It really is you,” he said, shaking his head a little. A wrinkle formed between his eyebrows. “What the hell are you doing here?”
* * *
FOR WEEKS, CHRIS had been wondering if he should try to find out who she was. She’d only said her name was Elizabeth. They’d met at a honky-tonk in Fort Worth after a less-than-stellar rodeo performance on his part. She’d been sitting at the bar, sipping a beer right from the bottle. His first impression had been surprise. Despite wearing jeans and boots and a T-shirt, there was a look of class about her. She looked more the wine-and-cheese type rather than beer and chips.
He’d had a good first round that weekend, but then he’d drawn Devil’s Spawn. The horse was aptly named, it turned out, because Chris had been launched into the stratosphere in the second round after 4.6 seconds. He’d missed out on the money. No buckle bunnies had followed him to the bar and that had been just fine with him. He’d figured he’d nurse his wounds with a beer and head back to the motel where he was staying. Take a hot bath to soothe his sore muscles.
And then he’d seen her. He’d ordered another beer, looked over at her and she’d smiled, a soft little smile, and all his brain cells turned to mush.
When he’d woken the next morning, the bed had been empty. The only evidence that she’d been there was the earring she’d left behind. How very cliché.
That had been nearly two months ago. Since then he’d done better, hitting the finals in a few rodeos, bringing in a little cash to help cover his expenses. It wasn’t like this was his livelihood or anything. He was only on a leave of absence from his regular job. A job which had suddenly felt very claustrophobic after years of long hours. He missed the outdoors, missed the horses and the thrill. Missed having fun.
This leave of absence was his one last chance. Not that he expected to earn any titles. He’d been out too long and he was getting older. Another few years and he wouldn’t be quite so resilient. If he were going to relive his youth one last time, it had to be now...before he lost his nerve. So he’d have no regrets. One last chance to live the life he wanted rather than the one that was expected of him.
Now she was here, standing not ten feet away. Forget the jeans and boots, too. She was the picture of elegance and power, moderately tall and slim, and wore her dark hair up in a conservative knot rather than the long, sexy ponytail he remembered. A great pair of legs was shown to excellent advantage in a slim skirt and sexy black heels. Buckle bunny? Not in a million years. The woman before him now was used to being in charge. If it weren’t for the stunning blue eyes, she’d barely resemble the woman he remembered from the motel that night.
Something curled through him and his pulse took a strange hop as an image flashed through his mind. Her hair had been down, spread over the pillow and her smile had been sexy and more than a little naughty as she reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him down on top of her. What the hell was she doing in San Antonio now, looking like she did?
“Elizabeth,” he said quietly, stepping aside so she could enter his apartment. He didn’t have a good feeling about her showing up unannounced.
“Call me Lizzie.” She gave him a faint smile and slid into the apartment ahead of him, taking care not to touch him in any way, he noticed. “Everybody does.”
“You didn’t say your name was Lizzie the night we met.” He followed her inside and shut the door. She looked at him nervously, pulling her hands together.
“I was trying to be mysterious.”
“It worked.” He put his hands in his pockets. “How did you find me?”
Was that a bit of color in her pale cheeks? Her gaze skittered away slightly and her fingers twisted tighter together. “I tried 411 first, but there are over one hundred Christopher Millers in the state of Texas.”
He waited for her to go on.
She frowned. “So then I tried Google. I entered your name and added ‘+ saddle bronc’ to the search. San Antonio popped up. But there’s more than one Christopher Miller here, too. So I called a friend of mine, called in a favor, and they gave me your address.”
“A friend?”
“Yeah.” She tried a small smile. “Rodeo’s a small world. Which was why I was surprised that I’d never heard of you before.”
His hands came out of his pockets. “You’re saying that you got my address from rodeo records?”
The blush was back. “Yes.”
He wasn’t sure if that information was guaranteed to be confidential or not; he’d never considered it either way. But Elizabeth—Lizzie—had gone to some trouble to find him. He was pretty sure the reason wasn’t going to be a good thing. She didn’t look like she was the type to come out with “I couldn’t forget our night together.”
That sounded snide in his mind and more than a little hypocritical, since he hadn’t been able to forget that night one bit. And if he’d had more to go on than a first name, he might have gone looking for her, too.
“Why would you do that?”
She straightened her shoulders and unclenched her hands. “Because I need to talk to you.”
Quiet settled through the condo. This was so bizarre. Not what he expected in the middle of the day. Hell, he was only in town today to do some laundry and pack his duffel before heading back out to his mom and dad’s. She was lucky to have caught him.
She definitely hadn’t shown up bent on seduction. Everything about her screamed hands off. Just his bad luck he found that crazy sexy. Not that he planned on trying anything, but her tidy suit and librarian hair fanned the flames of a few latent fantasies all right.
“Why don’t you have a seat? Can I get you something to drink?”
