Nevada Baylor személy
“I missed you,”he said, his lips stretching into a slow, lazy smile. The ice in his eyes began to melt. “Did you miss me, Nevada?”
He said my name. “No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“No. Never thought of you.”Just because I usually chose not to lie didn’t mean I couldn’t.
Rogan grinned and all of my thoughts went to the wrong places. He was almost unbearably handsome when he smiled.
“Stop it,”I growled.
“Stop smiling at me.”
He grinned wider.
A page from Bridal magazine was taped to my office glass door. It showed a woman in a spectacular gown made with long white feathers. Someone—probably Arabella—had cut out my head from some selfie and pasted it over the bride’s. A big heart, drawn in a pink marker and sprinkled with glitter, decorated the bride’s dress. Inside the heart someone had written N+R = LURVE. Little pink hearts floated around my face.
Killer way to make the first impression. I wished I could fall through the floor.
Through the glass I could see another bridal photograph, this one embellished with glittering dollar signs, waiting on my desk. On the bride’s dress, big block letters written with Catalina’s painstaking precision, said Marry him. We need college money.
“I’m coming, Nevada. You can’t stop me.”
“Yes, I can. You’re a minor.”
Catalina raised her chin. “I’m a Prime.”
“So am I.”
“Yes, yes, we’re all special,” Arabella said.
Vigyázat! Felnőtt tartalom.
I kissed him. “Foolish, foolish Rogan.”
“Don’t start,”he warned me.
“You realize that you will never be able to hear me say that without thinking about sex?”
He shook his head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but that changes nothing. Anytime you say anything, I think about sex. Anytime I see you, I think about sex.”
He was looking at me like I was the only thing that had ever mattered. “If you don’t survive, none of this is worth it to me. I love you.”
“Yes. This was never about both of us getting out. Leave. Now.”
“Don’t you pull this hero bullshit with me. Get up. You’re Mad Rogan. Get up.”
“God damn it,”he snarled. “Get the hell away from me.”
“Get up or I’m dying here with you. I’ll lie down right here on the floor.”
“Get out of here!”He tried to sit up. His eyes rolled back in his head. I grabbed him before he hit the floor. He was heavy. So heavy. He slumped over me, limp.
Tears wet my cheeks. “Connor, please. Please. I can’t carry you. Please wake up. I love you. Don’t leave me.”
A page from Bridal magazine was taped to my office glass door. It showed a woman in a spectacular grown made with white feathers. Someone – probably Arabella – had cut out my head from some selfie and pasted it over the bride's. A big heart, drawn in a pink marker and sprinkled with glitter, decorated the bride's dress. Inside the heart someone had written N+R = LURVE. Little pink hearts floated around my face.
Killer way to make the first impression.
„Oh no.” Rogan glanced at Cornelius. „We're back to formal ground. I'm clearly out of favor.”
„Why are you mad at me?”
I made a heroic effort to keep my voice calm and measured. „You panicked the witness I was interrogating, causing him to throw me around like a rag doll, hop his way through the floors, and get himself killed, which really complicates my life and robs my client of an opportunity to discover why his wife was murdered, and then you almost strangled said client in and elevator.”
„It does sound bad when you put it that way, Ms. Baylor.”
„Come with me to my house. I have some information you'll want.”
„I don't think so. But I'll be happy to discuss things with you in daylight in a very public place. Would you like my card?”
When I was in college, one of my professors liked creative descriptions, and whenever he had to indicate that some historical figure was in a moment of monumental rage, he'd say he had thunder on his brow and lightning in his eye. I never understood what that phrase meant until Rogan's face demonstrated it for me.
Cornelius took a careful step back. Troy backed up too. Yes, I did just tell Mad Rogan no, and look, the planet was still turning.
„Let's see, you ask me to be your toy, I say no, you move on. You don't call, you don't write, you don't come by. You make no effort to prove to me that you wanted anything more than some casual sex.”
His eyes darkened. „There would be nothing casual about it.”