either fatigue or the glass of wine he’d consumed with dinner. “Go to sleep.”
“I like you, Ciara.”
“I like you, too, Brandt.”
His eyes opened. “You don’t understand.”
Ciara smiled. “Yes, I do. Go to sleep.” She enunciated each word.
Brandt felt the warmth of the body he longed to touch, inhaled the subtle scent of the perfume that was as feminine and sensual as its wearer. It was the first time in a very long time he hadn’t wanted to sleep alone, and it wasn’t about sex, but companionship. Every night he went to sleep thinking about Ciara, and when he woke it was she he wanted to see.
“Good night.”
Ciara heard the soft snoring as she walked into the connecting suite and slipped out of her shoes and into a pair of fluffy slippers. A moan slipped past her lips when she felt the slight ache in her thighs. Miss ChaCha reminded her that wearing stilettos would take some getting used to. She found the envelope on the desk in the library, giving it to Angaraka as he and his staff packed up their equipment.
Twenty minutes after the elevators doors closed behind the caterer, Ciara removed the contacts, cleansed her face of makeup, fashioned her hair into a single braid and slipped into a pair of pajama pants with a matching tank top. She checked on Brandt. He was sleeping soundly.
She went into her bedroom, leaving the connecting door slightly ajar, and got into bed. Interacting with the Wainwrights reminded her that she’d always wanted a brother or a sister. Being an only child had its advantages and disadvantages. She hadn’t had to share her toys or clothes and hadn’t experienced sibling rivalry; but as an only child she would never become an aunt, couldn’t call a brother or sister for emotional support. Maybe if she’d had a brother she wouldn’t have had to deal with Victor Seabrook all by herself.
Ciara had thought it admirable that Brandt had stood up for Garth when Fraser hinted at him joining the family’s real-estate conglomerate. She was fortunate her mother never tried to dissuade her from becoming a nurse. Phyllis’s only comment was that if she wanted a career in medicine, why not become a doctor? Ciara knew she’d had the aptitude and the GPA to get into medical school, but not the patience to commit the time it took to earn a medical degree.
She tended to analyze people when she first met them, but Ciara decided to reserve judgment when it came to Brandt’s family. They weren’t the Brady Bunch, and yet they weren’t as dysfunctional as those featured in TV reality shows.
Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for her family. Not only had her father cheated on her mother, but he’d also married another woman. Unfortunately for William Dennison, bigamy was illegal in New York. And once his divorce from Phyllis was finalized, he remarried his second wife in what he’d called a renewal of vows when it was actually their first legal union.
Pounding the pillow under her head, Ciara turned over and closed her eyes. She had to stop thinking or she would never fall asleep. Sleep did come and with it an erotic dream of her writhing on a bed with Brandt.
Brandt, pushing into a sitting position, reached across his body and after two attempts picked up the telephone. “Hel…lo,” he stammered.
“Brandt! Are you awake?”
He rested his free arm over his forehead. “Of course I’m awake. I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
“Do you know who this is?”
Brandt managed a wry smile. “There’s no way I wouldn’t recognize your sexy voice.”
“I’m going to tell my husband that his cousin is hitting on his wife.”
“Jordan would never believe it. It’s known that Wainwright men never go after another man’s woman. Why the early-morning call, Aziza?”
“I’ve been calling your cell phone for the past four days. They all went to voice mail. I didn’t want to ring your house phone, but I only have a small window in which to respond to a request for you to visit the pediatric wing of a local hospital. When the hospital administration polled the kids as to who they most admire, your name topped the list.”
Brandt digested this information. His popularity usually escalated during the preseason, when sports-casters and photographers followed controversial players, interviewed coaches and offered daily reports on those who were still holding out signing contracts in lieu of higher salaries.
“Are they aware that I’m in a wheelchair?”
“You sitting in a wheelchair is temporary, Brandt. Some