Cathy dragged the tangled mass of hair out of her face. She pushed herself up, and the sheet slipped down, exposing her nakedness. Her body protested even that small movement. Her head pounded with hangover. She was sore all over. Her dulled gaze fell on her clothes. The clothes that had been scattered all over downstairs. The clothes that were now stacked neatly on the chair beside the bed.
The sense of unreality that still fogged her mind cleared with brutal suddenness. She covered her face with trembling hands and rocked back and forth. She was surrounded by his male scent and the smell of sex. Her sensitized body still felt the imprint of his mouth, his hands, the stroke of his hard thick shaft.
She heated with embarrassment. God, what had she done? It couldn’t all be put down to the wine she had drunk. He had played her body as a maestro would play a familiar instrument, drawing the most sublime responses from her.
She had never experienced such sex in her life. She had never orgasmed when intimate with her ex-husband. Yet in a single night with a stranger… She couldn’t bear to think about it. Not right then. Not when that same stranger was waiting for her downstairs.
Cathy threw back the sheet, anxious to break free of the vivid memories of the past several hours. She clumsily snatched up her clothing and stumbled into the bathroom.
After showering and dressing in her crumpled clothing and shoes, she grabbed her purse and went downstairs. She tentatively tiptoed through the area, glancing into the rooms that she passed. She eventually came to the kitchen at the back of the house. She discovered Michael at breakfast. She hesitated in the doorway, feeling acutely self-conscious and uncertain.
Michael did not appear to suffer from the same awkwardness. When he looked up and saw her, he invited her to join him at the table. “I didn’t know what you would like. There’s fresh coffee, fruit and kolaches.”
Cathy seated herself with a murmur of thanks. She was too keyed up to be hungry, but if she was doing something as normal as eating maybe she could get through the uncomfortable experience of facing the man who had given her the most erotic night of her life.
Cathy put a couple of the warm pastries on a plate. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee from the carafe. Her hands were trembling, and the hot liquid splashed over the rim of her cup. She flushed, hoping that he had not noticed.
If he did, he chose not to comment on her clumsiness. “I’m leaving for my office shortly, so I will be brief. I have already arranged for a taxi for you. It will arrive before long. This is for you because we are in one another’s company right now.”
Michael laid a hundred-dollar bill beside her plate. He studied her face, gauging her state of mind. He did not allow his own expression to give away any hint of his thoughts. He said quietly, very deliberately, “I enjoyed my time with you, Winter. I want to meet with you again, the sooner the better depending on our schedules.”
Her face flamed. She dropped her gaze to the hundred-dollar bill. She held her body stiffly, defensively, and one of her hands curled into a fist. He waited silently, watching the conflicting emotions on her face. When she looked up again, she said abruptly, “I can’t meet you every day.”