One Wild Wedding Night_ Runaway - Leslie Kelly [3]
Unexpected, that was all. He just hadn’t pictured his evening going like this—with him forced to leave a bar he’d stopped at on a whim due to a fire alarm, then stumbling over a sexy, unconscious girl in his own car.
He’d pointed her out to his oblivious driver. Richie—who’d been fighting with his girlfriend every other hour since Slone had hired him—wasn’t the most observant sort when not driving. As proven by the blonde in the torn coat.
The coat. It looked old, like something out of a rag bag. So did the gloves covering her small hands. He couldn’t see what else she had on as she was curled into a ball in the corner, her legs tucked under her on the seat. And suddenly Slone thought of a third reason for her presence: she could be homeless. Cold. Desperate.
He understood the feeling. At least, the desperate part. And some people would probably describe him as cold.
Homeless, however, he was not. In fact, avoiding his home, where he would have to play host to his pushy family tomorrow, was why he’d had Richie cruise around Chicago for a while tonight, rather than heading right to his penthouse. And the resulting pit stop at a downtown bar to kill some more time—and wait for the snowplows to get ahead of them—had left him with this unexpected stowaway.
“I swear, boss, I didn’t hear her get in, didn’t even see her back there. She musta been real silent. Sneaky-like.”
Slone doubted that. More likely Richie had been trying to out shout his girlfriend.
“You want I should roust her outta there?”
Glancing at his watch, Slone gave it some thought. It was only nine-thirty, he had nowhere to go and nothing special to do until the Bossy Women’s Brigade, in the form of his family, descended tomorrow afternoon for lunch. The bar was closed and fire trucks with sirens blaring—not that his guest noticed—were now pulling into the parking lot.
This woman could provide a nice diversion. “Let’s drive around for a little while.”
His driver gaped. “You mean…with her?”
Slone nodded. “Yes. With her.”
“Are you going to wake her up?”
“That isn’t my intention.”
His employee slowly shook his head but didn’t say a word. Instead, he turned around in his seat. Slone watched the woman, wondering if the car’s shift from a slow idling rumble into Drive would awaken her. But it didn’t.
Not thinking about it, he reached for the switch and closed the privacy panel. It wasn’t as if he was planning anything private. He’d never had sex back here—though there had been one occasion when a singer he’d dated had been determined to give him a so long blow job before she moved out of state. Now, though, nothing could happen with an unconscious stranger. But he wanted to watch her…without Richie watching him.
He slid down the long side seat until he sat across from the blonde. Close enough to feel her warmth and to smell the subtly exotic perfume rising from her skin.
Who are you? Shrugging out of his coat and jacket, he loosened his tie, which he’d had on for a dinner meeting, then unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He sprawled back in his seat, pouring himself a drink from a glittering decanter in the limo’s bar. Bringing the crystal glass to his lips, he slowly sipped from it, never taking his eyes off his slumbering companion.
The car was warm, yet her arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. It was as if in her dreams she was still outside and needed more protection than her ragged coat could provide against the bitter winter air. The way she hugged her body pushed the curves of her full breasts high—high enough to put the taste buds in Slone’s mouth on high alert.
She was much more voluptuous than he’d first realized.
With her chin tucked into her collar, her golden hair had fallen across her face. Long, curly strands hung well down the front of her, draping the curves of her breasts. An image swept through his brain of her wearing nothing but that hair, with her rosy, hard