Here I Am (Arabesque) - By Rochelle Alers Page 0,51

asked.

She shook her head. “No. I won’t be able to sleep later if I go to bed now. Speaking of beds, I think you can now sleep in your own. I’ll call the medical equipment company and arrange to have the bed picked up.”

“Where are you going to sleep if I move upstairs?” There was only one bedroom on the second floor.

“Where do you want me to sleep?” She’d answered his question with a question.

He studied her face, feature by feature, committing it to memory. And that was all he would have once her assignment ended. Memories of her face and her passion. “I’d like you to move your things into my bedroom.”

“Where will I sleep, Brandt?”

A hint of a smile softened his firm mouth. “You will sleep with me, of course.”

“Of course? Now that sounds just a little cocky.”

“Cocky or confident?”

“Egotistical,” Ciara insisted, pushing the chair to the elevator, “smug, brash—”

“Can’t you cut me a little slack?” Brandt interrupted.

Ciara maneuvered the chair into the elevator as Brandt punched the button for the second floor. “Why should I? You were nothing short of an ogre when I first arrived.”

The doors opened and she pushed the chair out of the elevator and along the hallway leading to his apartment. He peered at her over his shoulder. “Sorry about that.”

“Say it like you mean it, Brandt Wainwright.”

“I don’t know how else to say it. Maybe I can show you.”

Leaning down, Ciara pressed a kiss to his ear. “Later,” she whispered, nipping his lobe.

While waiting for Brandt to return from his publicity appearance, Ciara had changed the linen on the California king bed in Brandt’s bedroom. The transition from sleeping in a hospital bed to a regular bed was certain to improve his mood and speed his recovery.

Brandt stared at the stack of books on the bedside table—he’d planned to read them over the summer and fall. Reading provided him a respite from the frenetic pace of playing football. The season was short when compared to baseball and basketball, but it was much more physical because it was a contact sport. Being and staying in shape was critical, but even the most physically fit player’s career could end abruptly with a single tackle.

“I really miss sleeping in my own bed,” he said.

Ciara fluffed the pillows. “I can’t lower it like the hospital bed, but let’s see if you can get in and out of it without too much difficulty.”

Brandt pushed the chair next to the bed, then hoisted himself up and onto the mattress with a minimum of effort and movement. “Piece of cake,” he whispered.

“Cocky,” Ciara countered, reaching over and removing his casts before adjusting the many pillows behind his head and shoulders. “Do you have to use the bathroom before I leave?”

He closed his eyes. “No, I’m good. But I’d appreciate it if you took off my shorts.”

“What about your shirt?”

He opened his eyes. “That, too.”

Ciara knew it wasn’t easy for Brandt to ask her to dress and undress him. He may have been cocky, but he had more than his share of pride. However, there would come a time when he didn’t need her to do anything for him, and that would be when she would walk out of the penthouse and not look back. Clad in a pair of boxer-briefs, Brandt lay on his back while she pulled a sheet up to his chest.

Reaching up, he caught her ponytail, rubbing the blunt-cut ends through his fingers. “What did you do to your hair?”

“I flat-ironed it.”

Brandt released her hair. “I like it when you wear it down.”

“Maybe another time.” Ciara brushed a kiss over his mouth. “I’ll be back,” she said in her best Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator imitation.

Brandt cupped the back of her head, deepening the kiss. “How did I get so lucky?”

She went still, unable to form a comeback. The seconds ticked as they stared at each other. “I’ll come back and check on you after I finish putting dinner together.”

“I’d like to eat on the roof.”

“I think that can be arranged. Now please let me go so I can start dinner.”

He winked at her. “I’ll see you later.”

“Later, Brandt.”

Ciara took a quick inventory of the food on hand to prepare the meal. She added half a dozen ears of corn to her rapidly increasing shopping list, along with white potatoes, carrots and green cabbage. Biting gently on the tip of her thumbnail, Ciara tried remembering what else she wanted to prepare before calling the building’s concierge to place