She pushed him away from her. “David…you’re heavy,” she said, though it wasn’t true.
But he shifted off her. She rose and sped into her bathroom, where she just closed the door and stood there, shivering. Finally she turned the shower on and stepped beneath it. If they had really still been married, he would have followed her. He could do absolutely incredible things with a soap bar in his hands, with suds, with water, with teasing, laughing, growing serious all over again, heated….
He didn’t follow her. She didn’t know how long she stayed in the shower, but when she emerged, he had left her bedroom.
She found a long sleep shirt and slipped into it, then paused to brush out the length of her now twice-washed hair. She realized that she was starving, yet opted not to leave her room.
She set the brush back down on her dresser and noted that her array of toiletries was out of order. The women in housekeeping never touched her dresser, which she kept in order herself, or her desk and computer, in the spare bedroom. Had David been going through her things?
She had a dolphin perfume dispenser. It wasn’t valuable, but it was pretty and meant a lot to her, because her parents had given it to her for her tenth birthday. It was porcelain, about five inches high and beautifully painted. She always set it in the middle and arranged the rest of her toiletries around it. Now the dolphin was off to the side and a fancy designer fragrance was in the center. By rote, she rearranged the perfumes, talcs and lotions.
No big deal. Just…curious.
She shrugged, still thinking about making love with David. One part of her wondered how the hell she had lived without him, without being together like that, for an entire year. The other part of her was busy calling herself the worst kind of fool in the world.
Then she reminded herself that she shouldn’t be dwelling on personal considerations at all. A man had died today. This time there was no doubt that she had found a body.
In her own mind—and, apparently, in David’s—there was no doubt that she had found a body on the beach, as well. And in David’s mind, that body had belonged to Alicia Farr. His friend? His sometime lover? Either way, it had to disturb him deeply, and yet…
And yet, there they had been tonight.
She set her brush down, completely forgetting that the toiletries on her dresser had been rearranged.
Then she crawled into bed. Somehow, she was going to make herself sleep.
Alone.
She really could look like an angel, David thought, opening the door to her bedroom. She was sound asleep in a cloud of sun-blond hair, her hand lying on the pillow beside her face. Just seeing her like that, he felt both a swelling of tenderness…and a stirring of desire.
Determinedly, he tamped down both.
He had the coffee going; he’d returned to his own place in a flash for clothing, and then put out cereal and fruit for breakfast. He hadn’t forgotten that he’d promised Zach that he would show him—and his mother—the Icarus, and mentioned to the boy that they might meet for breakfast, but it was too early to meet them, and if Alex had maintained her old habits, she would forget to eat during the day, so she needed to start out with something.
And he needed to talk with her.
He walked into the room, ripping the covers from her and giving her shoulder a firm shake. She awoke instantly and irritably, glaring at him as if she were the crown princess, and he a lowly serf who had dared disturb her.
“Breakfast,” he said briefly.
She glanced at her alarm. “I don’t have to be up yet,” she told him indignantly.
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Trust me, you do.”
She groaned, resting her head in her hands. “Really, David, this is getting to be too much. Listen, last night was…nothing but the spur of the moment. You need an ego boost? It was just the fact that you do have nice buns and you’ve managed to ruin my one chance for a nice affair here. At any rate, you can stay here if you want to, so knock yourself out. But I’ve just about had it with you acting like a dictator.”
“Then maybe you should quit lying to me.”
“About what?” she demanded, looking outraged.
“Danny Fuller.”
She groaned. “Now I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Get up. There’s coffee. That always seems to improve your temper.”
“I don’t have a temper.”
“I beg to differ,” he told her, and added, “Come on, out here, and you can eat while you talk.”
He didn’t let her answer but exited the room. Just after he had closed the door, he heard the pillow crash against it.
He turned and opened it. “No temper, huh?” he queried.
She still wasn’t up. Tangled blond hair was all around her face, and she was in a soft cotton T-shirt that didn’t do a thing to make her any less appealing. It should have been loose, but somehow it managed only to enhance her curves.