Текст книги "Covering Kendall"

Автор книги: Julie Brannagh

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Two

KENDALL JERKED AWAY from Drew like she’d stuck both of her hands in an open flame. She flung herself out of the cocoon of blankets and Drew’s body, fumbling around until her fingers found the switch to the bedside light. The room was lit seconds later, and so was the face she couldn’t believe she hadn’t recognized immediately.

“You’re Drew McCoy,” she cried out.

She scooted to the edge of the bed, clutching the sheet around her torso as she went. It was a little late now for modesty. Retaining some shred of dignity might be a good thing.

She’d watched Drew’s game film with the coaching staff. She’d seen his commercials for hair products and sports drinks and soup a hundred times before. His contract with the Sharks was done as of the end of football season, and the Miners wanted him to play for them. Drew was San Francisco’s number one target in next season’s free agency. She’d planned on asking the team’s owner to write a big check to Drew and his agent next March. If all that wasn’t enough, Drew was eight years younger than she was.

What the hell was wrong with her? It must have been the knit hat covering his famous hair, or finding him in a non-jock hangout like a bookstore. Maybe it was the temporary insanity brought on by an overwhelming surge of hormones.

“Is there a problem?” he said.

“I can’t have anything to do with you. I have to go.”

He shook his head in adorable confusion. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more right now than to run her fingers through his gorgeous hair.

“This is your hotel room. Where do you think you’re going?”

She yanked as much of the sheet off the bed as possible, attempting to wrap it around herself and stand up at the same time. He was simultaneously grabbing at the comforter to shield himself. It didn’t work.

She twisted her foot into the bedding while she hurled herself away from him and ended up on the carpet seconds later in a tangle of sheet and limbs, still naked. Her butt hit the floor so hard she almost expected to bounce.

The number-one reason why Kendall didn’t engage in one-night stands as a habit hauled himself up on all fours in the middle of the bed. Out of all the guys in the world available for a short-term fling, of all the times in her life she thought that might be an acceptable option, of course she’d pick the man that could get her fired or sued.

He grabbed the robe he’d slung over the foot of the bed, scrambled off the mattress, and jammed his arms into it as he advanced on her.

“Are you okay? You went down pretty hard.” His eyes skimmed over her. “That’s going to leave a mark.”

He crouched next to her as he reached out to help her up. She resisted the impulse to stare at golden skin, an eight pack, and a sizable erection. She’d heard Drew didn’t lack for dates. He had other things to offer besides the balance in his bank accounts.

“I’m okay,” she told him.

She felt a little shaky. She’d probably have a nice bruise later. She was going down all right, and it had nothing to do with sex. It had everything to do with the fact that if anyone from the Miners organization saw him emerging from her room in the next seventy-two hours, she was in the kind of trouble with her employer there was no recovering from. The interim general manager of a NFL team did not sleep with anyone from the opposing team, especially archrivals that hated each other with the heat of a thousand suns. Especially a star player her own organization was more than a little interested in acquiring. Especially before a game that would mean the inside track to the playoffs for both teams.

Drew and Kendall would be the Romeo and Juliet of the NFL. Well, without all the dying. Death by 24/7 sports media embarrassment didn’t count.

He reached out, grabbed her beneath her armpits and hoisted her off the floor like she weighed nothing.

“I’ve got you. Let’s see if you can stand up,” he said. His warm, gentle hands moved over her, looking for injuries. “Why don’t you lean on me for a second here?”

She tried re-wrapping the sheet around her so she could walk away from him while preserving her dignity. It wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t stop staring at him. If she let him take her in his arms, she’d be lost. She teetered as she leaned against the hotel room wall.

“I’m . . . I’m fine. I—”

“Hold still,” he said. She heard his bare feet slap against the carpeting as he grabbed the second robe out of the coat closet and brought it back to her. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s your decision, but I don’t understand what’s wrong.”

She struggled into the thick terry robe as she tried to think of a response. He was staring at her as she retrieved the fabric belt and swathed herself in yards of fabric. Judging by his continuing erection, he liked what he saw, even if it was covered up from her neck to below her knees. He licked his bottom lip. Her mouth went dry. Damn it.

Of course the most attractive guy she’d been anywhere near a bed with in the past year was completely off-limits.

“You don’t recognize me,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” he said. “Is there a problem?”

“You might say that.” She finally succeeded in knotting the belt of the robe around her waist, dropped the sheet at her feet and stuck out one hand. “Hi. I’m Kendall Tracy. I’m the interim GM of the San Francisco Miners.” His eyes widened in shock. “Nice to meet you.”

“You . . . you can’t be,” he blurted out. “Their GM is one of the owners—”

“He had to step down two weeks ago due to a Securities and Exchange Commission investigation.”

The past two weeks in the Miners’ front office had been as fun as a root canal without Novocain but she wasn’t discussing that with anyone outside of the team ownership.

She knew he must have been somewhat smart if he wanted to spend his evening listening to Carl Sagan’s biographer in a bookstore, but right now, he was having trouble verbalizing his thoughts.

It took a few seconds, but she saw a smirk spread over his face.

“You . . . you run the Miners? You couldn’t get a job with a better team?” The arch rivalry had reared its ugly head.

“A better team, huh? We beat you how many times last season?” she said, but she smiled at him.

He laughed out loud.

“We’ll be handing your team their asses on Sunday, Kendall. You’re in our house now.”

Drew was still holding her hand. She snatched it away. She couldn’t believe he didn’t recognize her. She’d got an avalanche of press over her new job in the past month. Right now, though, getting Drew out of her room (and hopefully, out of the hotel and undetected) was first on her agenda.

“I’m guessing this means our night is over,” he said.

DREW CONSIDERED HIMSELF a pretty easygoing, uncomplicated guy. He wasn’t a slave to fashion. He wore what felt good. When he had an attraction as strong as the one he was currently experiencing toward the robe-clad woman two feet from him (and he knew the feeling was mutual), he acted on it.

He’d like to hurl himself back into Kendall’s warm and dry bed for a while, preferably with her. He understood the word “no.” He also understood he wasn’t going to be able to go outside and grab a cab to get home while commando beneath a stolen Westin Hotels bathrobe. He could call one of his teammates to haul his ass out of here, but again, buck naked in a hotel bathrobe in the middle of a windstorm: The resulting cell phone photos would be trending on Twitter before he made it out of the parking lot.

He tried pulling his jeans on; they were so wet he couldn’t get them over his thighs. She’d vanished into the bathroom.

“Hey, Kendall,” he called out.

She emerged from the bathroom a few seconds later. God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were pink with lust, embarrassment, or both. She’d brushed her hair. The faint scent of green apples drifted toward him again. Her mouth was a little swollen from his kisses too. If he started thinking about what she was or was not wearing underneath that bathrobe, he’d have to go stand in a cold shower for a while.

She glanced at the jeans stuck halfway up his thighs. She was having a tough time tearing her eyes away from him.

“I’m guessing you might need something dry to wear,” she said.

He kicked the jeans off and sat down on the couch, tucking the robe around him so he didn’t flash her.

“Maybe you have a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt I could borrow in that suitcase.”

“I have yoga pants and—”

“I’ll take them,” he said.

“They might not fit.”

She was probably half his size. They weren’t going to fit at all, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“I’ll make it work. Don’t they stretch?”

She turned to the soft-sided suitcase on a rack by the dresser. “Let’s see here.” She pulled out a pair of black, short-ish yoga pants and a bright orange racing bra thing. “I’m going to have to find you a T-shirt of some kind. I don’t wear them for yoga. I—”

He reached out to take the yoga pants out of her hand. “I’ll try these first.”

He’d had more than one girlfriend who wore these. The brand fit like a second skin, and whatever it was they were constructed out of clung to a woman’s ass. His ex-girlfriend hadn’t made it to a single yoga class when she’d worn them in front of him. He’d removed them as quickly as possible.

He stuck one foot into the pants. He could at least pull them over his thighs. They covered him to just above his kneecap. He was used to wearing short pants on a football field, so this wasn’t a problem. He’d look like an idiot, but he’d be covered.

A grin crossed Kendall’s face. “Maybe they will fit after all.”

He stuck his other foot in and slowly drew the fabric over his thighs and up to his waist. Surprisingly, there was a limit to spandex. He heard Kendall let out a gasp and glanced up to see even more color spreading over her cheekbones. She swallowed hard.

His package looked massive as he looked down. The fabric outlined every ridge and every contour. The entire city of Bellevue was about to learn he was circumcised. His dick wasn’t calming down anytime soon with soft fabric rubbing against it—soft fabric that held Kendall’s green apple scent. Those tights-wearing ballet guys had nothing on him. Holy shit. The shorter pants were the least of his problems. If he went out like this, he’d get arrested for indecent exposure. He wrapped the robe around himself again.

“This may not work,” he said.

She still regarded him warily, but he saw her lips curve into a reluctant smile. “It seems to be working just fine.”

“So, let me get this straight,” he said. The yoga pants were cutting off his circulation. He wrestled them off himself and shook them out. Suffice it to say he was buying Kendall another pair; he’d stretched them out. She watched him fold them and put the soft bundle on the computer table next to the couch he sat down on. He turned to face her again and took a step in her direction. He stared into her silvery-gray eyes. “You want me. I want you.”

“We can’t do this—”

“We’re consenting adults stuck in a hotel room together.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to act on our every impulse,” she said, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye. He would never force any woman to be with him, but her body language told him she was wavering. She swayed toward him. He moved a little closer. She still wouldn’t look into his eyes. He reached out for her hand. She didn’t yank it away.

His voice was soft and beguiling. “How are we going to resolve this?” He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. She still wouldn’t look up at him, and she bit her lower lip.

Her voice was low and unsteady. “We’re not stuck,” she said. “All we have to do is find you some dry clothes. I don’t have a rental car this time, so I’ll ask the front desk to call you a cab.” She dropped his hand, hurried over to the bedside table, and picked up the phone’s handset to make a call.

“Hello. May I talk to housekeeping, please?” she said.

Drew spent the next few minutes listening to Kendall’s side of the conversation, which was increasingly comical. She was polite but persistent. Even a luxury hotel had a problem coming up with clothing that would fit a six foot four, 250-pound linebacker at almost midnight.

“Is it possible to wash and dry his clothing? How long will that take?” She listened to the answer, and the only indicator Drew had that Kendall didn’t like the answer she got was her folded lips. “There has to be some clothing he could wear to get home in. Is there a lost and found? How about an extra employee uniform?” She listened for a moment. “Got it. We’ll take whatever you have, and thank you for the extra effort.” She hung up the phone and turned to Drew again. “They’re sending the manager up with clothes for you, and they’re calling you a cab.”

“Thanks.”

The hotel had superior soundproofing, but he could hear the storm raging outside. The lights flickered. He knew there were generators, so power outage wasn’t really a concern. The power might be out at his house, though.

Kendall gave him a nod. She picked up the abandoned sheet on the floor, shoved the comforter off the bed, and tried to re-spread the sheet. “I can never get these on the first try,” she muttered.

Drew covered the room in a few strides to the opposite side of the bed, grabbing the sheet in both hands and spreading it across again more evenly. “How’s that?”

“Better. Thank you.”

She continued smoothing wrinkles out of the bedding, tucking the sheet in as she went. Drew spread the downy comforter over the top of the smooth sheets and fluffed the pillows. He didn’t typically perform domestic chores on what could still be considered a date, but he liked watching Kendall’s attention to detail. Her brows knit as she straightened the pillows and made sure the comforter was even. She’d be sleeping in the bed alone, but she wanted to make sure she was comfortable.

She glanced up from her painstaking attention to bedding perfection and said, “We need to talk.”

He straightened to his full height and forced himself to smile. There wasn’t an adult anywhere who enjoyed hearing the words “We need to talk,” but he would take whatever was coming like a man.

She brushed hair out of her eyes and shoved her hands inside the pockets of the robe. Kendall’s poised and sophisticated veneer melted away as he saw hesitation and a flash of sadness in her expression.

“You’re right. I am attracted to you,” she said. “You’re interesting, funny, and I want to keep talking with you. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, and I’ve wanted to for a long time now. At the same time, getting involved with you is professional suicide.” She let out a long sigh and looked into his eyes at last. “It won’t help your career, either, and maybe that should be a sign to both of us.”

“I feel the same way about you,” he said. “Why is it anyone else’s business but ours?”

“You know it would be,” she said. Her voice dropped again. “I wish it could be different.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. She was right. The pull of attraction was almost overpowering, and this never happened to him so fast after meeting a woman. He shouldn’t take the chance that they wouldn’t be found out if they tried to meet each other in secret. “I understand,” he said.

He gathered his wet clothes off the hotel room floor, folding them enough to cram them into the plastic bag the hotel typically collected laundry in. They heard a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” he told her. She’d wrapped her arms around herself.

The hotel manager handed him another plastic bag. “It’s not stylish, but it will work. If you could return these at your convenience, we’d appreciate it.” Drew reached out to shake his hand. “Are you sure you want to go out in the storm tonight? We have a room available and I can offer you the walk-in rate.”

“I need to get home,” he told the guy. “Thanks for the offer and for the clothes.”

“If there’s anything else I can do, please let me know.”

Drew hurried into the bathroom, shut the door behind him, and started pulling items out of the bag. A doorman’s uniform and a worn but clean Dallas T-shirt that must have been left behind by another guest. He’d still have to go commando, but if he could get downstairs and into a cab, he’d be home in fifteen minutes. The guy had been nice enough to include a small bag of hotel toiletries, including a comb. He used the covered black elastic he always wore on one wrist to pull his hair into a ponytail.

He yanked the polyester pants on, jammed his feet back into his soaking wet cross trainers, and pulled the T-shirt on over his head. He wondered if the team fine would be bigger for the obscene fit of Kendall’s yoga pants or the fact he might be photographed in another team’s merchandise. He left the uniform’s tunic unbuttoned. It didn’t fit well across his chest.

He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked ridiculous. He didn’t want to leave, but he had no choice. It was best for them both if they stayed away from each other.

KENDALL STOOD UP from the couch when Drew emerged from the men’s room. A mismatched hotel bellman’s uniform and ratty old T-shirt looked spectacular on him. He grabbed his wet jacket off of the couch and shrugged into it.

She handed him the plastic bag with the new book he’d bought in it. His fingers brushed hers. It felt like she’d stuck her wet fingers in a power socket. The shock of attraction and lust forced her to struggle for words.

“I . . . I put the Malcolm Gladwell book in there too. Don’t worry about getting it back to me. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I think I will.” He moved a little closer. There was an invisible force field pulling her into his warmth. “How about a hug?”

She knew any further physical contact with him was a stupid, stupid move, but she did it anyway. His hold on her was gentle. The jacket was damp, but she didn’t care. He laid his stubbly cheek against hers and said into her ear, “I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

She relished the feeling of her arms around his neck, the cool brush of his hair against her skin, and the powerful muscles beneath her hands.

“Sunday afternoon,” she whispered.

“I’ll be the one in the Sharks uniform.”

“I’ll be the one in the Miners’ suite.” She hauled in a breath. “Good luck.”

“You too.” His mouth touched hers in a sweet and fleeting kiss. She wanted more. “Should I call you when I retire from the league?”

She should let go of him. She should push him out of the hotel room, lock the door, and pretend like she never wanted to see him again. She couldn’t. Instead, she nodded.

“Don’t say goodbye,” he murmured. He stroked her cheek with one big hand. He turned to walk away.

She watched the hotel room door shut behind him.

Chapter Three

DREW ENDURED THE equivalent of Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride through the streets of Bellevue on his way home. The cab driver was skilled, but he was having a tough time navigating standing water, streets strewn with tree branches, and random debris that had blown out of people’s yards. Drew heard his phone chirping with e-mails and text messages a few times during the trip home, but he ignored it. He was too busy willing the towering evergreens bent almost double in the wind to stay standing and not hit the car he was traveling in if and when they fell.

He reached into his pocket when the cab driver pulled up in front of his house and handed the guy the two fifty-dollar bills he had in his wallet for a fifteen-dollar trip.

“If I had any idea it was this bad, I would have stayed at the hotel. I’m sorry you had to be out in this. Thank you for driving me home,” he told the guy. “I hope you’ll get back there safely.”

“I’ll be fine.” The guy stared at the money for a moment. “Would you like your change?”

“No. It’s all yours.” He unsnapped his seatbelt. “Thank you again.”

The guy gestured at Drew’s front door. “Get inside where you’re safe, sir. Have a nice evening.”

Drew spotted his teammate Derrick’s car in the driveway as he got out of the cab. The wind blew him sideways up the front walk of his house. He’d been in Seattle for a couple of years now; he’d never seen weather like this before. The wind howled, rain sluiced down in sheets, and he jumped at the rumble of unexpected thunder: It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other right now.

He grabbed his house keys out of the uniform pants pocket and promptly dropped them onto the mat. “Shit.” He heard thunder rolling again, and the sizzle of lightning lit up the night. He jammed the key in the lock, turned it, and shoved against the door with all his might. It swung open. He managed to get inside the front door of his house, shoved it closed, and checked the alarm system keypad to his left by reflex. It was disabled.

Relief washed over him. He was home, he was safe, and despite his stupidity in driving over in the first place, Derrick (the knucklehead) was safe as well. He could hear the sound of someone (actually, someones) playing video games from his family room.

He laid the bag with the books on the hallway table and dropped the bag with his wet clothing next to it. He’d deal with all of it later.

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket as he padded on almost silent rubber soles toward his family room. Seven texts, four of which were from Derrick. Maybe he’d let Derrick live. He heard his teammate Seth Taylor’s voice.

“Where the hell do you think McCoy is, anyway?”

Drew heard Derrick answering Seth. “Damned if I know. His car’s still in the garage. I talked to him at four o’clock. I told him it was double-points weekend on Xbox Live. Of course it’s the weekend the fucking power goes out.”

“Nice to see you could both stop by,” Drew said as he rounded the corner. The two men sitting on his family room couch were staring intently at his flat-screen TV and working their game controllers. Good. If they remained focused on the game, they wouldn’t notice his ridiculous outfit. His coffee table was festooned with the remains of two large Pagliacci pizzas, dirty paper plates, and empty beer bottles. They’d been here a while. Of course there were no leftovers for him.

“Shit, McCoy, where the hell you been? I told you my mama and grandma are staying in my condo right now. Can’t game while they’re there,” Derrick said.

Seth shook his head. “I love his grandma, but she was reading Bible verses out loud while we were trying to get to the next level on Titanfall.”

“Grandma’s worried about our spiritual lives,” Derrick said. “My mama wanted me to take her to some church revival thing tonight. I love her, but it wasn’t going to happen.”

There were two grocery bags on Drew’s kitchen island. Maybe there was something edible in there. One of the bags contained two six-packs of microbrew. He glanced into the other bag, moving aside two bags of Juanita’s tortilla chips to spot four large bags of Skittles, a bag of mini Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and the biggest bag of plain M&M’s he’d ever seen. It was carb-loading at its finest. He was going to have to look through his own refrigerator for sustenance, it seemed.

The guys still hadn’t glanced over at him. They might put the game controllers down if some young, beautiful women walked into his family room. Then again, probably not.

“How’d you get out of that?” Drew said.

Derrick stabbed at one of the buttons on the game controller while Seth let out a groan.

“I gave five thousand dollars to the church’s building fund this afternoon. My mama acted like I gave her some diamonds. I also ordered them dinner from Lot No. 3 and told them they could watch whatever they wanted on pay-per-view,” Derrick said.

“Doesn’t your grandma like watching MMA?” Seth said.

A smile that could only be called calculating spread over Derrick’s mouth. “Why, yes. She does.”

“She seems like such a harmless, sweet little old lady,” Seth muttered. Derrick laughed out loud.

The Sharks had acquired middle linebacker Seth Taylor in a blockbuster trade with San Diego just before the start of the regular season, unloading a rookie who wasn’t cutting it at the same time. The defense kept improving, which Drew loved. Great defenses equaled championships. Seth wasn’t a bad guy, either. He’d been quickly accepted into the group of single Sharks that spent most of their free time gaming, clubbing, or both.

Derrick’s comments were punctuated by the chirping of an incoming text. Derrick grabbed it off of the coffee table and stabbed at the phone’s screen with one finger while continuing to play. “It’s my mama. She wants to know if we’re safe.” He tapped in a short message and put his phone back down on the table.

“It’s late. Don’t they sleep?” Seth said.

“Does your mama sleep when she thinks you’re up to no good?” Derrick said.

“I’m guessing all the pizza’s gone,” Drew said.

“There’s an entire extra pepperoni and sausage in the fridge,” Seth said.

Drew grabbed a cookie sheet, shoved a few slices of pizza on it to reheat them, and turned on the oven.

The TV set went blank. Drew heard groans and some choice obscenities from Seth and Derrick as they worked the game controllers.

“Goddammit, did Xbox Live crash?”

“What the fuck. I had the high score!”

Seth jumped up from the couch and tried rebooting the gaming system. It wasn’t coming back on. Drew could get upstairs, change, and rejoin them before they noticed what he was wearing. Maybe the late night, the storm (and three beers each) made them less observant.

He was wrong.

Derrick dropped the game controller onto the coffee table and whipped around on the couch to face the kitchen. Derrick looked, and then he stared at Drew.

“Hey, big guy. Did you go shopping in a dumpster earlier? What the hell is THAT?” He indicated Drew’s outfit with a nod in his direction and let out a booming laugh. “Does Coach know you’re wearing another team’s merchandise?”

Seth turned to look at Drew. “Dallas. You’re joking, aren’t you?” Seth said.

“My clothes were wet. I needed something to change into.”

“How wet were they, and what the hell were you doing earlier?” Derrick got up from the couch and moved closer. The grin bloomed over his face like a flower filmed in slow motion. “Nice logo. You were at the Westin, you dawg.”

“I was not—”

“Our boy got laid, Derrick,” Seth said.

“Doing the walk of shame, were you? This calls for a beer.” Derrick vaulted off of the couch and invaded the kitchen. “Do we know her?”

Telling them nothing happened would do no good. It was also a lie, but he knew they wouldn’t believe it. He tried it anyway. “I told you. My clothes were drenched. I borrowed these.”

“Borrowed, huh? Is that what it’s called now? I’m surprised you’re not in a better mood, McCoy,” Derrick said.

“What’s her name?” Seth said. “Are you going to see her again?”

Derrick strolled back into the family room gripping three cold and already opened beers. He handed them around. “Let’s drink to Drew’s love life.”

“Let’s not,” Seth said. “He gets more than the rest of us do.”

“Come on. Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Drew said to Seth.

“Bad topic,” Derrick warned.

“Yeah, I have a girlfriend.” Seth didn’t elaborate.

“And she’s why you’re here playing video games with two of your teammates on a Friday night,” Drew said.

“Uh huh. And I’m about to beat your ass at Madden again if we can find the game DVD.”

DREW TRUDGED INTO his bedroom after one AM. He’d made sure the guys were settled in guest rooms before hitting the sack himself. He should have been in bed hours ago. The storm raged on, though, and he couldn’t send Derrick and Seth out in it. Luckily, he had plenty of room for the guys at his place until things calmed down a bit outside. He pulled on clean, dry pajama pants and a T-shirt.

His teammates gave him shit on the regular for buying a 5800-square foot, five bedroom family house as a single guy. Whatever. They seemed to end up at his place a lot. He liked doing the yard work, and there was somewhere for his parents, three siblings, and their spouses and kids to stay when they visited. Truthfully, he bought the house because he could see his future wife and kids here. He’d like to think he could be lucky (and persuasive) enough to end up with a woman like Kendall.

She was beautiful, but that wasn’t the most attractive thing about her. She was sophisticated, intelligent, interesting, had a sense of humor, and she loved books. He also had to admit he wanted to spend some time in her bed; she pulled him toward her like metal to a magnet. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like he’d be spending any time at all with the lovely Ms. Tracy anytime soon.

He wanted to find someone he could spend the rest of his life getting to know, just like his parents had. His mom and dad had been happily married for thirty-five years now. His mom had dinner on the table every night at six. Her whole world was his dad and Drew’s brother and sisters, and he wanted the same thing: a woman who wanted to make his house a home.

If that made him old-fashioned, so be it. He loved the idea of coming home every day to a beaming woman, dinner on the table, and a few little rug rats to liven the place up.

He was used to hearing the house settle at night while he lay in bed, or the gentle patter of raindrops on the roof. The storm’s fury wasn’t letting up. Water slammed into the windows and broken tree branches thumped onto his house. He wondered if sleeping in a room with a gigantic clerestory window facing those trees was such a great idea tonight. Maybe he should move to another room, at least temporarily.

He wondered if Kendall was asleep yet. He needed to stop thinking about her, but he couldn’t think of anything (or anyone) else. He couldn’t stop remembering how she felt in his arms.

KENDALL PULLED ON a nightshirt a few minutes after Drew left and crawled into the bed. Normally, she didn’t mind sleeping alone, but tonight, she didn’t want to. She knew he couldn’t stay with her, but she wished he had. Even if they didn’t make love, she would have had someone to talk to while she tried to fall asleep. His house was only a couple of miles away, he’d said. He was probably already there, safe and warm in his own bed. She wondered if he slept with his hair in a ponytail, or did he let it fan out over the pillows? She sat up, adjusted her pillows once more, and sank into them. She heaved a long sigh.