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“Take me home, Shane,” she whispered, her eyes answering yes! to the question his eyes were asking. “Please.”
* * *
Carly fell asleep in the cab on the way home. Shane cradled her against his shoulder, enjoying the simple pleasure of having her in his arms, even in such a chaste way. It was obvious she’d invited him home because she wanted him the way he wanted her. Because desire flared between them with only a look. A touch. But the only sleeping done tonight would be sleeping. And strangely enough, he didn’t mind. He’d forgotten how good it felt to hold a woman when the ultimate goal wasn’t sex. When the ultimate goal was merely...holding her.
He breathed deeply, luxuriating in the soft, delicate scent of Carly’s hair, her skin. And he smiled to himself at the slightly wistful expression on her face in repose. Carly liked to think of herself as invulnerable, and maybe she was. But not when she was sleeping.
When they arrived at Carly’s town house, he was torn between waking her and carrying her. He could carry her...she was tall for a woman, but she didn’t weigh all that much, despite the voluptuousness of her body that she usually tried to disguise. But carrying her on a sidewalk that might be icy held its own risks. And besides, he’d still have to wake her once they got to her front door.
Deciding, he shook her gently. “Carly? You have to wake up now, Carly.”
She awoke with a start. “I wasn’t sleeping,” she told him as her eyelids fluttered but remained closed. She snuggled back against his shoulder. “I was just resting my eyes.”
“Right. Well, you have to open your eyes now. We’re here.”
“We are?” She straightened abruptly and glanced around, then blinked owlishly and said, “Oh. We are.”
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your door.” He handed his credit card to the cab driver. “Don’t leave. I’m coming right back.”
“No problem.”
Outside the cab, the cold air woke Carly better than he could have done, but Shane took her arm until they were safely on her doorstep, just in case.
She fumbled in her evening bag until she found the key, then unlocked the door and turned to face him. “Shane, I...”
He touched her face, sliding his fingers along the curve of her cheek and coming to rest beneath her chin. “You’re dead on your feet,” he told her. “Sleepy, early-morning sex might be great, but not for our first time.” He kissed her lightly. Then kissed her again, not so lightly, as desire for her surged through his body. “Tell me to go home, Carly,” he rasped, drawing back a little, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Go home, Shane,” she agreed, smiling faintly. She tugged his head down until she could brush her lips against his. “You’re right—not our first time.”
Chapter 7
Carly woke from an erotic dream of Shane, then curled tighter in her warm cocoon of bedclothes, thinking about him. About last night. And about how she wished it had ended. She tucked her hand between her pillow and her cheek and let her imagination run riot.
Eventually, though, she sighed, stretched and yawned. Then dozed off. She soon found herself in another dream of Shane—one that had nothing to do with sex or attempted murder. All he was doing was smiling at her in a quizzical way, his gorgeous brown eyes sending a message she couldn’t quite interpret. Not yet. But if she stood there long enough, she knew the answer would come to her. If she could just—
The phone beside her bed shrilled, shocking her awake, and she grabbed it. “Hello?” She couldn’t help that her voice was grumpy.
“Good morning, sunshine,” her producer said.
She told him exactly what he could do with his good morning, and he laughed softly, which chafed her temper raw. “What do you want, J.C.?” she demanded. “I didn’t get to bed until after three, and it’s...” She squinted at the clock on her nightstand. “It’s barely eight. Between last night and the night before, I’ve gotten less than nine hours of sleep. Don’t you have a life?”
“Sure I do. My job is my life.”
