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On the run from a murderer, Ridley Wells has nowhere else to turn. So when badboy producer Jackson Alexander mistakes her for her twin, she does something she knows is wrong.
She lies.
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EXCERPT of One More Day
© October 2012 M. Malone
RIDLEY SNUGGLED DEEPER into the cushions of the couch, watching as the flickering lights from the television played over Jackson’s face. His mood had shifted toward the end of the movie and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. They’d started off laughing like hyenas and throwing popcorn at each other before they’d gotten comfortable enough to put their legs up.
She should have kept her mouth closed. All her talk about how crappy her week had been had probably made him uncomfortable. But she’d wanted to express her gratitude for everything he’d done for her today. Not just letting her stay, but listening to her talk about David and hanging out with her so she didn’t have to be alone.
She closed her eyes, helpless to resist the lure of rest after the hectic pace of traveling for the last few days. Returning to Virginia wasn’t something she’d planned on doing yet. College was supposed to be her chance to escape her past, to branch out into a world where no one knew her. A chance to redefine herself as more than just “Raina’s sister” or the girl with the bitter, chain-smoking mother who worked double shifts at the diner to keep them all fed. She’d had so many plans to make her mark on the world and be successful before she returned.
How telling that, for all her hope of being independent, the place she’d run to at the first sign of trouble was right back to her sister.
The final credits rolled and the screen went blank for a few seconds before the opening menu screen flashed. Ridley yawned so widely it felt like the sides of her face might crack. The clock on the wall to her left told her it was almost two in the morning. She thought of the soft, decadent bed upstairs in the guest room she was using and almost whimpered. It was way past time for her to go upstairs and get some sleep.
Instead she turned her head and looked at Jackson again.
He was such a puzzle. Men who looked like him weren’t nice for no reason, yet he hadn’t asked her for anything. He’d just been there when she had no one else. Why, she couldn’t even begin to guess.
His features were relaxed in sleep, the long, sharp blade of his nose more prominent now that it didn’t have to compete with his killer smile. His lashes rested against the tops of his cheekbones and she had to resist the urge to run a hand over his curly hair. It wasn’t fair that he looked so beautiful and guileless in sleep when he carried such a lethal sexiness when fully awake.
“I would say ‘penny for your thoughts’ but I have a feeling that thought would cost more than I’m worth.”
Ridley ripped her gaze from the curve of his lips up to his now wide-open eyes.
Oops.
“Hi. I was just…” She decided not to even address her blatant staring. “…wondering if I could borrow something to sleep in?”
“Sure, sure. Of course.” He got up slowly, unfolding his long legs from the couch one at a time. “Follow me. Sorry I conked out at the end there. I guess I was more tired than I thought.” He waved for her to follow him up the stairs and she did, keeping her eyes on her own feet so she couldn’t ogle the way his jeans fit him as he walked.
She was in his room before she’d realized what she’d done. “Oh, I’ll just wait out in the hall,” she stammered.
“No. Stay.” Those two simple words halted her in her tracks. He smiled a slow, sexy grin before pulling open the second drawer in his bureau. He rummaged for a while, pulling out shirts an
d then pushing them back in. “I’m trying to find one of my shorter ones so it won’t swallow you up.”
“Oh, I like them longer. It’ll hang lower and cover my legs like a nightgown.”
He stopped digging and glanced at her. Then his eyes dipped lower to take in her bare legs exposed by the mid-thigh, terry-cloth shorts she wore. “Right.”
He held out a shirt and Ridley took it carefully, making sure their fingers didn’t touch.
“Well, thanks again. Good night.” She fled the room, racing down the darkened hallway, not stopping until she reached the door of the guest room. She turned the handle and opened the door, but before she entered she looked back.
She had to.
Jackson stood in the same position next to his dresser. The heat of his gaze burned over her entire body and she shivered as her nipples peaked against her shirt. She didn’t know him well enough to interpret the look on his face but she could interpret her body’s response.
God, she wanted him.
He’d been nothing but a gentleman all day, seeing to her every need, listening to her vent and keeping her company. He hadn’t made any moves on her, hadn’t done anything suggestive or said anything provocative. Was he just being a good host and making sure she made it to her room?