She didn’t even stop. “He’s not my baby. I’m tired. I smell like smoke.”
“I’m tired too. I’ve been up for hours. Please. Pozhalu-sta, Katya.”
“No,” Kat said again, hating herself. She tumbled into bed, pulling the pillow over her head so she didn’t have to hear the baby wailing. It didn’t help.
She lay awake a long time thinking about Mr. Dark Eyes, thinking about the way he would have looked at her for not helping her sister. He knew she was a bad, selfish person. He knew.
Chapter Two
She came back again the following night, of course. Clockwork. Ryan wanted to talk to her again now that he’d made her acquaintance, even if it was just another awkward, defensive exchange. No.Too difficult. Not worth it. He finally convinced himself to leave her alone but he couldn’t stop watching her. Why did she fascinate him so much?
She danced for a while when it got busier, when the bodies were pressed together on the dance floor. He watched her from behind the bar, which wasn’t difficult because she jumped up on the platform below the DJ booth. It was like the music possessed her, like the beats lived inside her. He liked house music as much as the next clubgoer, but she seemed to really know the music, feel it deeply. Her hips moved, her feet stomped, her hands reached up in the air and then everyone was jumping, riled up by the beat. For some, it was joy and release. But for her, it seemed an opportunity to lose herself. He felt his cock rising in response to her sexy movements, her curvy body and lovely legs.
By the time she retired to her favored spot up on the balcony, he knew—against his better judgment—that he was going to go talk to her again. One last chat, he told himself. This is the absolute last time you talk to this girl. She ignored him as he approached and leaned beside her on the rail.
“Hi there, Kat. Back again, I see.”
A corner of her lip turned down. “Just like you.”
God, the pull was excruciating. Her little black dress fit her so well it was criminal.
“My name’s Ryan, in case you don’t remember.”
She shot him a look. “I remember. I just don’t feel like talking, Ryan. No offense.”
“I’m not offended. But why don’t you feel like talking?”
“The music is too loud. It’s too hard to hear.”
He leaned closer and spoke next to her ear. “Can you hear me better now?”
She drew away and looked at him. For the first time Ryan saw a spark of the real girl, not the mannequin, before her face rearranged itself into apathy. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to know why you never smile.”
She looked away again. “I smile when I feel like it.”
The timeless dance of flirtation and rebuttal. She looked like she would gladly toss him over the balcony if she could.
“You know what, Kat? I think you’re a very pretty girl.”
She snorted. “That’s the greatest line I’ve ever heard. Seriously. Only a brain surgeon could come up with something so original.”
“You don’t believe I’m really a brain surgeon?”
“Let me put it this way. I wouldn’t have a lot of respect for a brain surgeon who hung out in a crap club like this every weekend.”
“You hang out here.”
“Don’t remind me.”
He could have pulled out his medical ID and showed it to her, but he was so used to girls going all weak at the knees because of his career that he kind of enjoyed the novelty of her disregard.
“So I guess the next question is obvious,” he said. “Why do you hang out here if you hate it so much?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I would love to answer that question for you but I don’t really know.”
“Which points at a rather alarming level of non-self-awareness.”
“Non-self-awareness? Is that even a word?”
“I know a lot of large and exotic words, being a brain surgeon.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’m going to go dance.”
He laughed as she pushed away from the railing and made her way through groups of people to the stairs. She was a little sassafras, that was for sure. He watched her squeeze between two gabbing club girls and extricate herself from a groping drunk guy. He was just thinking how disappointed he was that he wasn’t going to talk to her again when he saw her fall off balance. She teetered just a moment and then tumbled down the stairs.
It was like slow motion. He saw every contact with the hard concrete, calculating possible bodily damage. Ouch, her shoulder…her hip. She almost righted herself, but then flipped around and fell backward hard, her head hitting the metal edge of the last stair. He was already halfway down behind her, pushing people out of the way.
As he bent over her, she looked up at him, pained and confused. Behind her head, he could already see the blood. Head injuries bled copiously, he knew, so he tried not to panic. He attempted to check her limbs without moving her, wary of spinal damage, but she struggled to sit up.
“Just lie still,” he said. “Don’t try to move yet.” He pushed her back down as forcefully as he dared. Kevin, one of the bouncers, looked over his shoulder.
“She’s bleeding all over the place.”
“Yeah, that happens when people crack their heads open. Can’t you move these gawkers away from here?” Ryan asked, gesturing around.
The bouncers began cordoning off the stairs like some kind of crime scene. One of them handed him a pair of gloves. Ryan pressed his hand hard against the wound on the back of her scalp.
“Ouch,” she moaned.
“Just be still. What hurts?”
“Everything.” But she moved her arms and legs enough to reassure him her spine was okay. He scowled up at the ocean of drunk partygoers around them, noticing guys
