Free Dead Ringer by Annie Solomon Page A

sound, he released her. She lay on the floor, her chest rising and falling with breathlessness. He didn't extend a hand to help her up and he didn't say good-bye. He didn't say anything. He just wheeled around, opened the door, and left.
    * * *
    Finn stayed away as long as he could, long enough for his hands to stop shaking and for the scotch to blunt her words.
    Because she'd been right. She'd been absolutely goddamn right.
    He would have stayed away all night, but the bar closed at two, and the hotel staff wouldn't let him sleep in the lobby. So he stumbled into the elevator, not drunk enough to deny he was drunk, but too far gone to do much about it.
    A mess of plates and silver covers lay on the floor outside the room, testimony to the fact that Angelina had taken his advice and stayed in. He noted that she hadn't eaten much, despite her protestations of hunger, and a shaft of guilt speared through him. Had the scene with him killed her appetite?
    Whether it was the state he was in or the fault of technology, he had to pull his key card through the lock three times before the little green light unlocked the door. Turning the handle, he took a breath and tumbled inside.
    Please, God, let her be asleep in her room.
    He saw immediately that his prayer had been answered. Sort of. She was asleep, but not in her room. Slumped in an armchair, she faced the TV, which was muted but on. Its changeable light cast a blinking blue glow over the darkened room. Edging closer, he saw she'd changed out of the skintight stretch pants and breast-defying top. Instead, she wore a simple white nightgown that left her arms and shoulders bare. Trimmed in delicate lace with tiny buttons down the front, the fabric was so fine as to be almost transparent.
    He swallowed. Don't look But he couldn't help himself. Her feet were curled up under her and through the sheer nightgown he saw the outline of her breasts and the swell of her hips. With her eyes closed, she looked almost angelic. Virginal. Her golden hair lay tousled around her face, her full lips sweet and kissable.
    He knelt down beside the chair, a little unsteady, and tried to rouse her. "Angelina. Wake up."
    Let her sleep there.
    She'll be stiff tomorrow.
    What do you care ?
    He drowned the argument by touching her shoulder. He'd meant to shake her, but his fingers closed on the mark he'd noticed the first time he'd seen her-not a tattoo, but a beauty mark in the shape of... He peered closer. A heart. She had a heart on her shoulder. He smiled to himself. Even in his half-fogged state it seemed wildly ironic that a tough cookie like Angelina would wear her heart where everyone could see it. His fingers traced the outline of the mark and the soft, warm skin around it Maybe not so tough. Somehow his hand moved from her shoulder up her neck to her jaw and then her face.
    Christ, she was beautiful.
    Knowing he shouldn't, he leaned in close and whispered her name, his lips grazing her ear. Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned her head toward him.
    "Sharkman." She breathed the name as if she'd been expecting him to appear out of the darkness.
    Her green eyes gazed at him unafraid and huge as the sea, and despite every resolve, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
    She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "What did you say?" Her fingers traced the line of his lips as though she couldn't believe the words had come out of them. Her touch made him dizzy, made his chest soft and hollow and weak. He knew he should pull away, but he didn't.
    "About... what happened earlier. I'm... I'm sorry."
    Her mouth tilted in the barest hint of a victorious smile. He'd lost a battle, but didn't care.
    "Why do I rile you so much?" Her voice hummed low, intimate, asking a question to which there were a thousand answers, if only he could think of one.
    "I'm doing my best, Finn. I'm trying hard." Her gaze wandered to his mouth, then back to his eyes. His heart skittered across his chest.
    "I know."
    She took his hand, held