Can't Help Falling In Love Read Free Page A

Determined to show Tony that she wasn’t any happier to have
     his help than he was to give it, Randa hurried over to yank the straps of both smaller
     bags over one shoulder. She teetered again under the extra weight but steadied herself
     with a hand on her rolling bag. Tony called Misty with a quick whistle before he bent
     over to pick up Randa’s remaining bag. Then he tilted his head and Randa thought she
     saw his lips twitch. She was disappointed it didn’t turn into a real smile. “Please
     let me carry your bags.”
    She held up a hand. “Oh, no, I have them. You should have seen me traipsing through
     the airport. I’ve got a good handle on how to manage lug—”
    Tony slid his hand under the straps on her shoulder and smoothly pulled them over
     his own. Randa felt the path of that hand like a burn and froze for a second or two
     before she forced herself to breathe. She wondered what his touch on bare skin might
     accomplish.
    “Follow me.” Tony clenched his hand and then shook it like he’d felt a tingle too.
     Instead of hurt, this time Randa felt the flutter of satisfaction. Maybe it was only
     a tiny reaction, but she got the feeling that even that was more than Tony was used
     to.
    Randa watched him cross the lobby and then glanced from him to Misty. The dog looked
     at Tony and then back at her before seeming to shrug her shoulders.
    “Come, Misty.” His voice was rough, probably from lack of use, but deep. In a way
     it matched his face, which was too stark and serious to be really handsome, but he
     could speak volumes with his eyes. She had a feeling Tony might be one of those deep
     thinkers: still waters that pondered big questions. Randa ignored the voice in her
     head that said she should only be interested in a man with a little more hair, a little
     less ink, and an entirely different wardrobe. Her body didn’t seem to care about those
     things. She felt his glance like a touch, and the nervous flutter in her stomach and
     damp palms said all she really needed to know now was what he looked like out of that
     tacky shirt.
    Didn’t matter. She wasn’t here for men, her type or otherwise. She was here to get
     a little peace and some distance from the men already in her life—the ones she couldn’t
     dump or discourage because they were related. Also, they paid the bills. And when
     the credit card bill for this latest salon visit came in, her father better pay it.
     As long as she followed orders, he wrote checks.
    Randa did her best to keep up with Tony but her four-inch heels weren’t made for speed.
     They were made for sex. She recognized the flaw in her plan almost immediately. Nothing
     she’d brought was for comfort, but she lived most of her life selling the right look.
    “Hey, Tony, could you slow down just a bit? I think Misty’s breathing hard.” Randa
     shot an apologetic look down at the dog. Misty might seem to be laboring under the
     weight of all her skin but she was having no trouble keeping up.
    Tony stopped in front of a door, swiped the key card, and opened it. She sort of expected
     him to let the door slam in her face, but he held it open, waited for her to enter
     with Misty on her heels, and then shut it carefully behind her. She did her best not
     to stare obviously at the bed that seemed to take up most of what was probably a decent-sized
     hotel room but felt like a closet. With a nice comfy bed inside. She wasn’t sure there
     was enough room for two people, a dog, and oxygen. Tony walked to the closet and opened the suitcase rack before setting her
     rolling case on it. Then he put the other bags he was carrying on the floor next to
     it.
    Unsure what to say in response to his helpfulness, Randa glanced around what was a
     fairly standard hotel room. Except for the life-size photos of Elvis in different
     poses. “Wow. Great photos.” She kicked out of her heels and wiggled her toes in the
     gold carpet. “Are all the rooms this nice?”
    Tony