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Seventeen
Jenna drifted up from sleep, disoriented. She felt so good. Incredibly warm.
She opened her eyes. The two enormous windows showed the glow of sunrise on the lake and in the sky. Drew was behind her. One arm draped around her shoulders, the other curved around the pillow where she lay.
She stared at his powerful forearm, mere inches from her eyes, admiring the details. Trying to breathe. She couldn’t believe this was real. It seemed like a dream, but her backside was pressed against his immense heat.
His bedroom was beautiful in the morning light. Soothing to the eye. Light reflected off the gleaming floorboards. Swaths of green and waving boughs set off the lake view. Mist rose in tendrils off the water. Tranquil and lovely.
Their hastily discarded clothing was strewn around the bed. She saw one of her shoes. Her dress, sadly crumpled. Sacrificed on the altar of lust, but she regretted nothing.
She really was here. Naked in Drew Maddox’s bed. She’d spent the night in his luxurious bachelor lair. She’d been well and truly seduced.
Last night had been a revelation. Some time ago, after a series of romantic disappointments, she’d come to the conclusion that she was just one of those people for whom sex was just never going to be a big priority. She just didn’t get what the fuss was about. She was a busy person. Everyone had to decide where to put their energy and attention. A family would have been nice, but all those songs about passion and obsession and need... She just didn’t get it.
Well, damn. She got it now, like a wrecking ball. Roddy’s song flashed through her mind.
In your deep and honest eyes, I find my reason why.Her own eyes overflowed.
No, no, no. Cool your jets, girl. Too much, too soon. She had to keep this light. She appreciated Drew’s pronouncements about how special their connection was—that was all very sweet and lovely, and she meant to enjoy it to the fullest—but she wasn’t diving into this headfirst. She was going to tiptoe. Eyes wide open.
She peered over at the digital clock with eyes that burned and stung from sleeping in her contacts. She had an early lunch with Bev and her friends from the Bricker Foundation. She barely had time to organize for it. And Smudge would be so hurt at being abandoned all night, he probably wouldn’t speak to her for days.
She slid out of Drew’s arms, trying not to disturb him, and slipped off the bed, gathering those of her things that she could find. The bathroom was in disarray, water and towels on the floor. She’d come in at some point to wash up, but Drew had joined her and turned her shower into another delicious erotic interlude. The memory made her face go hot.
After a quickie rinse in the shower, she dried off and put on her clothes, insofar as she could. The stockings were lost in Drew’s bed somewhere. Her hairpins were scattered all over his entry hall. Her bra was missing in action. She pulled on the dress without it, hoping that her landlady and the other tenants wouldn’t see her waltzing up the steps to her house in the morning in rumpled evening wear. Her first official walk of shame, whoo-hoo. Better late than never.
The makeup smears were alarming. A dab of lotion she found on Drew’s shelf got off the worst of it, but nothing would dim that wild feverish flush on her face.
Or the glow of terrified happiness in her eyes.
He was still asleep, stretched out on the rumpled bed, the coverlet draped across his waist, when she tiptoed out of the bathroom. She moved closer to admire, and saw the scars on his lower back that she hadn’t noticed in the dark the night before. The ragged path the bullet had made as it tore through him. The more regular surgical scars that surrounded it. Her muscles tightened in cringing sympathy, imagining all that pain.
She needed to call for a ride home, and for that, she needed her phone. The evening bag was probably still in the foyer somewhere, so she tiptoed out there barefoot. There it was, on the dining room table. She scooped up as many hairpins as she could find, and shoved them into her bag. She needed to know where she was to call for a pickup, so she poked around until she found an architectural magazine with a mailing label. She made the call and was heading back for her shoes when she heard him.
“Jenna? You here?”
“I’m here,” she called back. “Just getting myself together.”
Drew was sitting up and leaning back against his hands, the cover draped across his lap, hiding all his excellent masculine bounty. Probably just as well. She had to avoid temptation this morning, considering her time crunch. But oh, he was so gorgeous.
He looked dismayed to see her dressed. “You’re leaving already?”
“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” she said apologetically, scooping up her shoes. She sat down on the bed next to him to put them on. “I have appointments today.”
“Can’t you reschedule? Say you’re sick. Loll around naked in bed with me here all day. I’m no master chef, but I can handle bacon, eggs and toast just fine.”
It sounded so wonderful. She struggled with the stupidly tiny shoe buckle, fighting the overwhelming urge to give in and stay with him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It sounds great, and I’d love to, really, but I just can’t. Not this time.”
“Then I’ll drive you home. Let me throw on some clothes.”
“Oh, no, no,” she said quickly. “The car service is on its way.”
A guarded look came over his face. “You’re not panicking on me, are you?”
“No way.” She finished with the last buckle, and leaned to give him a slow, lingering kiss. “I am not blowing you off. By no means. I promise. I loved every second of last night. It was incredible.”
“Then have lunch with me,” he said. “After your thing.”
