A Fare To Remember_ Just Whistle_Driven - Vicki Lewis Thompson [26]
He wasn’t sure yet how to say it so that she wouldn’t feel rejected. Giving her the real reason wouldn’t work. She’d already told him he should hang on to his job, so she’d refuse to let him jeopardize it for her. He didn’t think she’d understand that he couldn’t take her to bed without making that sacrifice. Women thought differently about such things.
They settled on the hard bench and he turned to face her so that their knees were touching. “To start with, you might have to use your fingers. That’s how I learned.”
“How old were you?”
“About ten.”
“Ten.” She groaned. “What if I’m too old to learn?”
“Nah. As long as you have a mouth, teeth and a tongue, you can learn.”
“I have all those things.”
Did she ever. He wondered if he’d be able to do this without kissing her and putting those components to a different use. “Okay, stick a finger in each corner of your mouth like this.”
She mimicked him.
It was so cute that he wanted to grab her right then and there. Somehow he restrained himself. “Then put your tongue behind your top teeth, like this.”
Nodding, she followed his lead.
“Now blow out.” He whistled softly through his teeth. He didn’t want either a cab or a passing woman to get the wrong idea.
She produced a little wheezing sound, but it wasn’t a whistle. “Rats. I’ll never catch a cab with that lame tootle.”
He steeled himself against the urge to kiss that adorable, nonwhistling mouth. “No, but that’s the idea. Just work with it. I had to practice quite a while before I made a real whistle.”
She tried again, and a little tweet came out. “There!” She beamed at him. “Now, that has promise. Come on, let’s go back to the hotel. I’ll practice as we walk along.”
He should follow through with his plan and tell her now that when they got to the hotel, he’d be saying good-night. But she looked so happy that he decided not to have that conversation yet. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say, anyway. Maybe he could think of something while she was practicing her whistle.
“All right.” He stood and took her hand. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
HANNAH PRACTICED HER whistle on the walk back to the Pearson, but she had trouble concentrating as they drew closer. Now that the moment was almost here, she was nervous. Something seemed to be going on with Zach, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.
Partway through dinner his mood had changed. Until that moment she’d been sure that he was thinking the same way she was—that they should enjoy that suite together tonight. Now she wasn’t so sure.
But if she didn’t ask him to come up, she’d always wonder if they could have spent the night wrapped in each other’s arms. She hadn’t made it to New York by being a coward, so there was no point in starting to act like one now. She would ask him, and if he said no, she’d…well, she’d probably be devastated.
No, damn it, she wouldn’t be devastated! She would take it with a smile, figuring he was the one losing out. But if he said yes…oh, the glory of that! They would set the night on fire.
She didn’t want to have this scene right outside the front door of the hotel, so about half a block away she stopped walking and turned to him. Her heart was beating so fast that she was breathless. She paused to gulp some air. This was silly, being so nervous over such a simple thing. She wasn’t a virgin, for heaven’s sake.
Except this wasn’t a simple thing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that having sex with Zach would have vast repercussions. And although she wasn’t a virgin, she didn’t have a lot of experience with asking a man to share her bed. Usually the guy had been the one asking her.
Maybe Zach would still do that. She hesitated a moment to give him that chance. He must know she wanted him to.
He cleared his throat. “Hannah, I—”
“Of course. Of course you can come up.”
He looked stricken. “It would be better if I didn’t.”