She rolled her eyes at his cocky comment. “Not New York, New York. I meant it was at a hotel upstate. Not in the city.”
“Got it. You’re one of those.” His slow nod and self-satisfied expression had her already elevated level of frustration creeping higher.
“One of those, what?” she asked.
“Nothing.” His smirk didn’t support that it had been nothing.
She took a step closer until she was almost toe-to-toe with him. She would never be nose-to-nose with this guy, even in heels, since he was so tall compared to her.
“Tell me,” she demanded.
He tipped his head to look down at her, pinning her with his stare as his lips twitched with amusement.
Damn him for laughing at her. Worse than that, he’d never answered.
Ignoring her and her question, he pivoted and moved to the desk. There he grabbed a pen and pad of paper.
“Write down the name of the hotel in Albany. I want to call and question their head of security.”
“No.” She folded her arms again, refusing to take the pad and pen he held out to her.
“No?” His voice held a hint of surprise.
“Not until you tell me what you were insinuating before.”
She should have let the subject drop. Just like with ill-behaved children, cocky men were best ignored rather than encouraged with further attention.
He let out a sigh, dropping the hand holding the pen and pad of paper. “Fine. I’ll tell you. Manhattan. Paris. LA. Miami…”
So he’d done his research on her. She could tell that from the way he’d emphasized the city where she currently maintained a home. A rather nice, sizeable home, on the water with a dock and a boat. But he probably knew that as well.
He continued, “You’re one of those people who only pay attention to the glitzy and the glamourous places. The world to you is just dots on a map. And those dots are comprised of only big cosmopolitan cities where you can spend your money on overpriced things. While the rest of the globe is blank space in your eyes. Beneath your notice. Inconsequential. Just another small town, another state, another city you’re forced to fly over or spend a few hours in singing so you can make a couple hundred thousand bucks that night.”
She gasped at the insult. “None of that is true. You don’t know me.”
She’d just spent months of her life traveling to every little no-name place with a concert venue. There were so many she couldn’t even remember the names—
The thought screeched to a halt as she realized how that sounded in her own head.
Darn. She didn’t want this man to be right.
He raised the pad and pen again, this time poised to write her answer himself as he asked, “Hotel?”
“The Albany Hilton, but don’t bother writing it down because I’m calling your boss. There must be someone else they can send for this job.” She was done with him and his attitude.
Rather than begging for a second chance, like she thought he would, Kyle laughed. “You’d think there would be, wouldn’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
This man was always talking in riddles. Giving her half an answer and making her beg for the rest. So annoying.
She planted one hand on her hip and watched as he scribbled the name of the hotel on the pad.
He finally put down the pen and raised his gaze to meet hers. “It means that I’m pretty much it. But go for it. Call Rudnick. Send me packing. I’m happy to grab a hot dog from a cart on the street. Maybe take in a Broadway show since there are a bunch I haven’t seen yet. Then I’ll hop on a train and get the hell home. Which is not all that far from Albany, in case you were wondering. I grew up very close to Oneonta. That’s in New York, by the way”
That name rang a bell, niggling at the back of her brain.
Oneonta Orthopedics.
Her eyes widened at the realization. “That’s where I recognize you from. The doctor’s office.”
Kyle smiled, but the expression managed to look mean. “Ah. Finally, she remembers. Yup. They gave my appointment to you. No biggie. I had nothing better to do for that extra hour I waited to be seen by the doctor. Glad to see your emergency ankle injury is all better. I still have a way to go with mine. You know, a splintered fibula takes a bit more time to heal than a twisted ankle.”
She drew in a breath, the words I’m sorry on the tip of her tongue, where they remained unspoken.
If he hadn’t been such an ass, she would have sincerely apologized to him for the doctor bumping her ahead of his other patients. But the way things were now, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not that he would have accepted her apology anyway.
Nope. She could tell he’d already judged her. His mind was set. He didn’t want to know her. He didn’t want to like her. Not just her. She had a feeling this man enjoyed being mad at the world.
“So, boss,” he began.
She didn’t miss the emphasis he’d placed on the word boss.
“Can we discuss the game plan?” he continued. “Or are you going to call and have Rudnick try to scrape the bottom of the barrel for my replacement? Since I was the best he could do, even as broken as I am, I wouldn’t expect much.”
Damn him. And damn whoever had snuck into her bathroom and written that threat that made his unwelcome presence in her life necessary.
She didn’t believe his theory that the message had been written before she’d arrived. The reality was she did have someone, an obviously unbalanced someone, focused on her. Possibly intending her harm.
Kyle was supposedly qualified to stop that person.
With her surgery coming up so fast, she didn’t have the time or the energy to get someone new. She was going to have to let him do his job. For now. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hate him while he did it.
“What kind of game plan are you talking about?” she asked.
He leaned one ass cheek on the desk and settled in, like he was staying awhile. Since she hadn’t called his boss, or kicked him out, she guessed he was right. She hated that.
“Logistics. Transportation. Getting you in and out of the hotel unseen. Your schedule while you’re here in the city. Do you have any performances? Appearances?”
“No.”
“Okay. Any plans to go out for dinner or to see a show? Or clubs? Shopping?”
She shook her head. “No. None.”
“None?” He cocked up his brow.
“Correct.”
“So you’re telling me you’re just going to sit here in the suite the whole time you’re in Manhattan?” His doubt was palpable.
“No. I never said that.”
“Then you are leaving the suite,” he said, the comment drenched with sarcasm.
“Yes.” Smart ass.
“Where are you going? And when?” The pad and pen was back in his hand again as he waited.
“New York Presbyterian Hospital. Tomorrow morning.”
When his gaze met and held hers there was a question in it.
Without him having to ask, she answered, “I’m having surgery.”
There was the slightest twitch of his eyebrows before he asked, “Ambulatory?”
“No. I’ll be in probably for two nights. When I’m released, we’ll relocate to a house I rented until the end of the month.”