Thanks to Lee. She had to be grateful.
She stood up and walked out to the living room. He had one nail stuck in his mouth while he hammered another into the door. He paused as she walked up to him, a brow raised.
"Lee...thankyou," she told him.
He slipped the nail to the corner of his mouth. "Go to bed, Bryn."
She nodded and started up the stairs, then paused. "Does it matter which room?" she asked politely.
He didn't glance at her, but he did stop hammering for a minute. "No. They're all set up for company."
Bryn bit her lip as she watched. His back was bowed over his task, his powerful arms rippling and glistening with each firm whack of the hammer. Then she continued up the stairway.
She stepped through the first door she came upon and flicked on the light. As he had said, the room was ready for company. The rosewood bed set was gleaming; the teal spread and striped sheets had a clean fresh scent. Bryn found a small nightlight on the mirrored dresser, turned it on and the overhead light off.
She shed her sneakers and jeans and climbed beneath the sheets.
But as she lay there, she couldn't stop thinking about Lee. About the times she had lain in his arms.
Dreamed of him.Wanted him.
He had given her everything.And demanded nothing of her.
She closed her eyes tightly and tried to shut out his image.
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It could not be shut out.
She saw his features in the moonlight: the high forehead; dead straight nose; firm, square jaw; full, sensuous mouth. His eyes full of riveting golden power...
Think about the pictures, she told herself.TheTimberlane Country Club. The background...
His scent had always seemed to beckon her.Subtle.Clean, and yet very male. She remembered the way the bronze of his shoulders had gleamed beneath the soft light of the moon. She remembered staring at his chest. Tight and broad, devoid of hair, sheer bronze masculine strength. She had wanted to reach out and touch him.
She'd known for a long time that she had been wrong about him. From the beginning he had meant to offer her friendship. He'd been attracted to her, yes, but he would never have pushed her.
He had always cared; he had always shown her sensitivity. He had sensed her fear of heights; he had reassured her. He had known she needed money; he had never--not once, despite everything that she had done--threatened to fire her. And at the restaurant when Adam-- Oh, Adam! Where are you?
When Adam had thrown food, Lee hadn't been horrified. He had understood that bad behavior didn't make a bad child, just a little boy who was insecure and needed a lot of love.
Adam! It hurt to think of him and to be so helpless, waiting and waiting, praying.
Adam, she thought, I do love you. I'll get you back again, and I'll do everything to make you forget that you ever were afraid or frightened or alone...
Love...Such a varied and strange emotion. Love for a child. Love for a man. No, she wasn't in love with Lee. She could admit now that she liked him, that she cared for him. But she couldn't risk loving him. He liked children, but that didn't mean that he wanted them. And he cared for Bryn, but how deeply--and for how long?
She groaned aloud. It hurt to be so torn.So worried about Adam.So alone herself. She needed Lee tonight. Even if she couldn't hold on to love, she needed to feel it.
No, she had to be hard and independent. She had to take care of herself, because she herself was her only guarantee....
There were no guarantees.
Bryn covered her face with her hands and swallowed convulsively.
Who was she kidding?Herself?No longer. She had always wanted him. She did need him; but most of all, she wanted him.
And maybe she was just a little bit in love with him. Maybe she had known that she would be, even before she had met him. And she had been afraid--of herself, of being vulnerable. Not really of him.
Bryn realized suddenly that the hammering had stopped. She waited a minute, listening to the night. Then she crawled out of the bed and walked to her door, opening it softly.
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The hall light was still on, but the downstairs was dark and silent.
Close the door and go back to bed, she told herself.
But she didn't close the door. She stepped out into the hall.
You know that you want him. Go to him.
Yes, but did he still want her?
She could be hurt again, she warned herself. He could send her away.... He could still be angry.
He might not want her anymore.
She had to risk it. There might be pain in the future, but for tonight...
Her heart thundered painfully in her chest, but her feet started to carry her down the hall. She came to his door and hesitated. It was open. She moved into the doorway, her blood seeming to flame within her veins, and then to freeze with a nervous apprehension__