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“Faith?” he whispered, almost as if he knew she was faking.
She didn’t answer and after a few moments he sighed, but didn’t call her bluff.
Instead, he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, returned, and slid between the sheets. Next to her.
Would it give away that she was awake if she piled pillows between them? Or if she peeked under the covers to see what he was wearing? Or not wearing?
She swallowed, fighting to breathe, fighting to keep her eyes closed in case he was looking at her and could see her through the sliver of moonlight breaking the darkness, fighting to keep from scooting next to him, spooning her body to his.
Because, really, if she did that while still feigning sleep, what would it hurt? She could always plead that she’d gotten cold. Which didn’t explain the droplets of sweat forming between her breasts.
She bit the inside of her lower lip, forced herself to count sheep, to count the soft sounds of Vale’s even breathing. That he’d crawled into bed and fallen immediately to sleep didn’t say much about her effect on him, did it? He was in bed with her for the first time ever and had immediately dozed off.
The last time she recalled taking a peek at him soft streaks of sunrise had started filtering into the room. His dark head lay against the pillow, his lashes fanned out across his cheeks, his face relaxed in sleep.
Unable to resist, she reached out, brushed her fingertip across his cheek, marveling at the smooth perfection of his skin, at how her heart raced at the contact.
Without his expression changing in the slightest to indicate he’d awakened, his hand caught hers, clasped it to him. Faith watched his face for some sign she’d woken him, but none was forthcoming. Neither was escaping his death grip, so she relaxed, cherishing the contact of their skin.
Her hand cradled in his, she finally drifted off into dream-filled sleep.
With the sun streaming into the room through the magnificent windows, Faith woke very aware that she was in Vale’s king-size bed that smelled of his spicy aftershave.
She opened her eyes, startled to find the bed empty.
Only the imprint on the pillow next to hers told the tale that he’d shared the bed, that she wasn’t imagining his musky scent. Unable to resist, she reached out, touched where his head had lain, calling herself every kind of stupid.
She’d touched him during the night. Had he woken up and known of her foolishness? God, she hoped not.
Slowly, she became more aware of her surroundings. She’d been too restless the night before to fully appreciate the bedroom suite.
Double glass doors led out onto a balcony that ran the length of the room. Pale blue walls with clean lines were broken only by the huge windows and a gorgeous seaside painting. Wow. A panoramic view of the ocean took her breath, easily visible even while lying in the bed. A two-sided glass fireplace divided the room, separating a living area with a sofa and television from the bed area. A couple of medical magazines cluttered the solid mahogany end table. To the far end of the living area a desk with a state-of-the-art computer was set up. A yellow legal pad had notes scribbled on the top page in Vale’s distinctive penmanship. Had he worked this morning before leaving the room?
This wasn’t a guest suite. This was Vale’s room. If she walked to the closet, his clothes would be hanging there. Those had been his personal items in the en suite bathroom, which was bigger than her entire apartment, and not because he’d brought them from home. No wonder he hadn’t carried more than his small overnight bag, so sharply contrasting with her large suitcase. He hadn’t had to.
But what she didn’t see in the room was Vale. Where was he? Had he wakened, taken one look at her, and been frightened away? Probably, she mused. As much as she’d tossed and turned prior to his arrival in the bed, she imagined her hair was every which way.
Stretching, Faith decided she’d get up, shower, and go in search of her host. Only before she’d so much as lowered her arms the door opened and Vale entered, carrying a tray full of breakfast goodies that had her stomach growling in appreciation.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted her, fully dressed in khaki slacks that hugged his narrow hips, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up on his tanned forearms and a sexy V exposing where the top two buttons were undone at his neck.
He’d been the one out partying all night so it was totally unfair that he looked marvelous, and she suddenly recalled the fact she’d just woken up, looked horrendous with not a speck of her new make-up, and her hair wild as Friday evening rush-hour traffic.
She winced, fighting the urge to try to tame the messy strands about her head. No doubt she looked like Medusa with hair snaking about her head in every direction.
“Good morning, yourself.” She scooted up in the bed, only to become conscious of her pajamas. During her shopping spree she hadn’t considered sleepwear, had never dreamed she and Vale would be thrown into the same room by his mother. She didn’t expect her fuzzy Star Wars pajama bottoms and T-shirt top to start any fires.
Hold up. Did she want to start fires? Hadn’t she told herself time and again while lying in his bed last night that she needed to keep distance between them this weekend if she didn’t want to destroy her career? If she made love with Vale, no way could she continue to work with him when he moved on to another woman. To do so would be torture of the cruelest kind.
She considered herself a modern woman, but she didn’t do casual sex. She didn’t do sex at all.
She flopped back on her pillow with a sleepy sigh.
“Not a morning person?” he teased, placing the tray on the bed. “I brought you breakfast.”
She glanced down at the tray. Fresh fruit, yogurt, bagels with peanut butter, juice, milk, a pot of coffee, and…she lifted a metal lid off a plate…eggs, bacon, sausage links, and toast with butter and jelly.
“You don’t really expect me to eat all this?”
