“Barely.”
“Would you hate it if I got closer?”
She was silent for several seconds, which gave him all the answer he needed.
“Never mind. Sweet dreams.” He closed his eyes, letting it go. It had been a foolish thought. He wasn’t a cuddler, never had been. He was pretty damn sure this weird feeling had more to do with alcohol than desire.
That feeling came over him—a twilight kind of buzz that precedes slumber. He welcomed the sensation.
When she shifted again he didn’t think anything of it. Not until her backside brushed his hip.
The buzz now in his body was of an entirely different nature. Oddly, he didn’t go into sex mode. It wasn’t about that. When he put his arm around her tummy, the softness of her skin felt perfect. When he spooned her so that he felt her body against his chest, his thighs, he smiled with contentment.
This was exactly what he’d wanted. And from her sigh, he knew she wasn’t unhappy about it, either.
He closed his eyes and drifted off.
GWEN WASN’T SURE how long she’d been in his arms. All she knew was that Paul had fallen asleep, his body cupping hers in an embrace that should have had her running for a cab. Only she didn’t want to run.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good. Even the headache that was just starting to bloom in her temples didn’t bother her.
Maybe all of it—the way she’d danced like a fool, agreeing to spend the night, this—had a simple explanation. Touch.
She hadn’t been touched in a long, long time. Maybe a handshake or two, but his palm on her tummy, her body pressed to his, that hadn’t happened for what, six months? Longer?
No wonder she’d had difficulty saying no. People were wired to need contact. The more, the better. A huge part of pair bonding had to do with the chemicals humans released when they were skin to skin.
Not that she wanted to pair bond with Paul. Not only was his taste in women completely suspect, but he was just too good-looking.
No, except for his love of baseball…and poker, and dancing. And okay, he had a pretty good sense of humor and he liked horror flicks, still, there was nothing about Paul that appealed to her.
It was the touch thing. He hadn’t been in Autumn’s pants yet, so he’d been without for a while. One would assume. And Gwen hadn’t been close to anyone since Alex. So she should just go to sleep now. Take comfort where it was offered and let the rest fade away.
She found his hand, the one draping her waist, and she put her own hand over his. She moved her leg and her back until she was perfectly comfy with maximum touching. She matched her breathing to his slow, even rhythm. Yet sleep didn’t come.
Her weary, stupefied mind kept dancing. Not just to the swing band from earlier, but to the look of indignation on his face when Faith and Eve had said their horrible things. To the way his eyes had lit up when she’d confessed her Dodger addiction. To the way he moaned, just then, as he dreamed. As he held her.
As far as pity dates went, this one had been the best yet. A grand slam.
She yawned once, squeezed his hand, and that was it.
His hand was still around her waist, loosely, and his knees were neatly tucked behind hers. Warm breath hit the back of her neck and as she planned her escape, she relaxed a bit. He had to be sleeping.
Okay. So she couldn’t be angry about his condition. She still needed to get up, grab her dress and make it to the bathroom without waking him.
Despite the darkness of the room she knew it was daylight. Parched and achy, all she wanted was to skip this part and be home. Instead, she held her breath as she carefully lifted his hand. Inch by inch she moved toward the edge of the bed, wincing in her effort not to screw up. She should never have stayed last night. What had she been thinking?
Almost…almost…
Her body was clear. She held on to his hand as she pulled her pillow down to take her place. Hardly daring to breathe she sat up, turned to look at him.
Mistake.
He was as gorgeous as a movie-star hero. She had no illusions about what she looked like when she first got up. Life just wasn’t fair, that’s all. Anyway, his breathing hadn’t changed, his eyes were closed and she’d better get her butt in gear if she intended to make a getaway.
Rising slowly, she made it to her feet. First, she grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand, then hurried to get her dress and dashed into the bathroom.
Finally, she could catch her breath. The woman in the mirror looked like hell, but at least she had a toothbrush and soap.
It didn’t take her long to get dressed. The only thing missing from the bathroom was a notepad. It seemed really impolite to leave without some kind of goodbye. On the other hand, she’d never see Paul Bennet again, so why bother?
No, even she couldn’t be that dismissive. He’d been nice. The best pity date ever. One she’d actually look back on fondly. With brush in hand, she opened the bathroom door to go hunt for paper.
Only Paul wasn’t sleeping anymore. He stood directly in front of her, not five inches away. In his boxers. In the light. Looking like a god. He seemed a bit desperate as he moved quickly into the bathroom. She shook herself out of her beauty-induced shock and scurried out.
With her heart rate up and a ferocious desire to get the hell out of there, she turned on the light by the nightstand. A convenient Marriott notepad and pen were at the ready and she dashed off a quick thanks, tore that sheet off, then wrote another, this one nicer. Her purse was in her hand and she was halfway to the door when Paul came out of the bathroom.
She shouldn’t have written that second note. It had given him time to wash his face, run a damp hand through his hair. She could also see that his poker was behaving once more. Why not? It wasn’t as if he’d been hard over her.
“You taking off?”
“I need coffee and a shower.”
“I hear that. I’m happy to call down for room service. I can be dressed in no time.”
“It’s okay. Stay.” She forced herself to look at his face and only his face. “Take your time. I’m not that far, and I’ll have no trouble getting a cab from here.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
If she wasn’t mistaken, he sounded a little pouty, which didn’t make sense at all. It was probably nothing. His head had to feel as badly as her own. She couldn’t imagine him wanting to stretch things out.
“I wrote you a note. Now that you’re here I’ll just say thank you. I really did have a fun night. You’re a hell of a dancer.”
“Yeah. I had a good time, too. Weird, huh?”
“Very.” She went to pass him, then he touched her arm.
“Autumn was right.”
“About?”
“You being interesting and fun.”
“I was drunk as a skunk, although I’m not really sure what that means.”
His smile was slow and devilish. “Yeah, I think skunks are entirely too clever to drink as much as we did.”
“Hangover?”
He nodded.
“I bet they have plenty of aspirin in the lobby. Anyway…”
“Yeah. Anyway…”
She looked down at where his hand touched her bare skin. Odd. The touch meant nothing. Completely innocent. Only it didn’t feel that way.
A second later, she realized he was leaning toward her. She looked up just as his lips met her own.
Paul kissed her.
Again she froze, lips together, not breathing, waiting for something to happen. Him to back up with a start or a laugh or to ease his grip on her arm. What happened instead was that he continued to kiss her, tilting his head a bit to the right. Parting his lips.
Her eyes closed of their own volition, even as she told herself to move away, to stop the nonsense and get home where crazy things like sleeping with strangers didn’t happen. What she did instead was part her lips, too.
Paul sighed and she inhaled his peppermint breath. Time stretched and slowed her thoughts and her reactions until she barely recognized herself.
As if poked with a stick, Paul jerked back, snatched his hand away. He looked completely startled. “Whoa. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean—”
“No problem. Mistakes all around. Anyway…”
“Yeah, yeah.” He backed up a step, then two. “Anyway…”
“I’ll just be—”
“Sure. Good.”
She flung out her hand, searching for the door. “It was fun. The dancing.”
“Fun. Yes.” He backed up until he hit the bed.
Luckily, she found the door and before she could utter another inane word, she was out in the hall. She leaned back, hitting her head pretty hard, swore soundly, then made her way to the elevator, wondering what in the hell had happened to her. It was all too strange, every bit of it, and she felt sure that if her head didn’t hurt quite so much, she’d be able to make sense of the butterflies in her tummy. Or why the memory of his lips persisted. Why she felt the need to rub her arm where he’d touched her. Instead, she decided to pretend last night and this morning had never happened.
PAUL CHECKED his watch again. Autumn was later than usual for their dinner, and he was starving. He’d gotten their table at Nobu forty minutes ago, and the waiter was getting itchy. Paul had nursed his drink down to ice. Where was she? It had been her idea to come here, a thank-you for taking Gwen to the anniversary party. It had taken two weeks for her to come up with this dinner, changing plans at the last minute so they would meet here instead of him picking her up.
He really wasn’t sure why he bothered. Autumn was hot, but forty-minutes-late hot? Two weeks of cajoling and teasing hot?
It had taken him a full twenty-four hours to recover from the evening with Gwen, and a lot longer than it should have to stop thinking about it. He could hardly believe that he’d wanted to sleep with Autumn’s sister. Not only was she not at all his type, but the idea that he’d even considered doing something so unsavory made him wary of ever drinking again.
He knew a lot of guys, some of them good friends, who wouldn’t think twice about going after a sister. He wasn’t one of them. He liked to think he had standards. Okay, not terribly high standards, but he tried to adhere to simple rules. He never lied to any of his women about dating others. He didn’t cheat when he’d made any kind of commitment. There simply wasn’t a reason to.
He’d worried, right after, that Gwen would have told Autumn that he’d been stupid. The more he thought about it, the more he concluded she never would. She and Autumn weren’t close, plus, Gwen had been appalled when he’d suggested sex.
And that had been gnawing at him.
She hadn’t even given it a minute’s thought. Her answer had been immediate and fervent. He hadn’t had an outright rejection like that since he’d tried to get into Nina Jackson’s pants after she’d told him she was saving herself for marriage. But he’d been in college back then and he’d had the moral fortitude of a garden snake.
Gwen, on the other hand, wasn’t a child. He doubted she got a lot of invitations, so why had she reacted so strongly? The only thing he’d come up with was that she knew he was dating Autumn. That made sense.
He sipped the remnants of his drink as he looked around the restaurant. Everyone inside was young and attractive. Nobu was an L.A. hotspot. Celebrities showed up on a regular basis, there was always a cadre of paparazzi outside, and the food cost a damn fortune, but that was part of the cachet. Hard to imagine Gwen with him here.
Not that she was ugly, because she wasn’t. Hell, there were well-known actresses and singers who aced that category, but they had something that Gwen didn’t. He’d seen it in his work often, in fact. There was a certain air about a person who fit into the limelight. A charisma.
Gwen, he knew, would consider all this so much bullshit. She wouldn’t be impressed with the crowd or the chance that she might see someone famous. She would think it ridiculous to pay so much for the privilege of dining in an A-list restaurant, even if the food was superb.
He put his glass down. Gwen wouldn’t be so much out of place here as she would make him feel foolish for wanting her here.
Something caught his attention at the front of the restaurant and he sighed with relief that it was Autumn. She made her typical entrance. Flashy, bold as brass. Her dress was red and tight and short enough to really show off her exceptional legs. Her blond hair flowed over her shoulders like silk and when she walked, it was with the confidence of a woman who understood her power.
He stood and waited for it. Her dazzling smile came at the perfect time. The moment of greatest impact. The woman was wasting her talent on airplanes. At the very least, she should be modeling, at the most, ruling a kingdom. He suspected she was holding out for the latter. She’d told him several times that she was going to be switching routes to the Middle East instead of Europe and that could only mean she was going for the top prize. Some potentate with hot and cold running billions.
“Paul.” She said the word in that big-screen way. Soft, yet it carried to the cheap seats.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek before she sat. The smell of her was enough to end all critical thought. Damn.
She immediately ordered a special Nobu martini, and he ordered another of his. The second they were alone, she gave him a look that alerted all his testosterone to be at the ready. “Rumor has it, you and Gwen had quite a night.”
“Are you still on that? I told you. We danced. It was fun. I was glad to do it.”
“According to Faith, you weren’t doing me any favors.”
“What?”
“She said when you two got to the slow dances, a breeze couldn’t have gotten between you.”
“Gwen’s a good dancer.”
Autumn stared at him for a long moment, then burst into bright laughter. “Oh, my God. Your face! As if you and Gwen…” She laughed some more, garnering as much attention as she could without going a millimeter overboard. “She must have died when she saw you at her door. Oh, I wish I could have seen it.”
“It wasn’t all that funny.”
“Come on, Paul. I know my sister. It must have been something.” A delicate sniffle and a touch of her napkin at the outer corner of her eye, and then she looked at him once more. “I appreciate what you did. It had to have been awful for you. Faith said you acted like a real gentleman the whole night. She could barely believe you didn’t sneak out at the first opportunity.”
Paul picked up his menu, bothered more than he should have been at the way Autumn spoke about Gwen. Best to leave it alone. Autumn’s relationship, if he could call it that, to her sister wasn’t his business. But jeez. “I’m glad I could help. Did you want to start with appetizers?”
The moment Autumn picked up her menu he shifted gears. It wasn’t wise to think about Gwen now. He wanted to get through dinner and get to the good part with Autumn. He’d bought new condoms for the occasion.
He watched her, amazed as always at her sheer beauty. She had a quality about her that was the essence of what he’d been thinking about before. Charisma, magic, that something extraordinary that made strangers ask for her autograph. He’d seen it happen often. Even after she explained she wasn’t anyone noteworthy, they wanted her to sign the paper, the menu, their hand. She always did, too, as if it was the most natural request in the world.
Autumn lived out loud. She shimmered in the light. There was no way to ignore her.
Gwen kept her light inside. Private.
He couldn’t imagine that the two of them were related. Maybe their mother had had that affair with the postman after all.
“I’ll have the lobster ceviche and after that I’d like the toro tartar when he gets his main dish.”
He hadn’t realized the waiter was there until Autumn ordered so he made a quick decision and that was that. Their drinks arrived a moment later and Autumn changed the subject to her adventures in Rome.
He listened, enchanted as always. She didn’t require much from her audience so he didn’t worry overmuch when his thoughts wandered to what the night promised. They’d go back to his place. His maid had been there that afternoon, so everything was just right. He had champagne in the fridge and some very expensive beluga.