around and kicked the edge of the sofa with the toe of my dress shoe, then kicked it one more time for good measure. "Dammit it to hell!"
"Dylan?" The soft voice, all sleepy and husky and sexy as hell, floated out of the darkness. My breath lodged in my throat and I whirled around, wondering if maybe I'd finally lost it. A second later, the bedside lamp clicked on, creating a circle of soft light. I stared at the woman in my bed, wondering if I was seeing things.
Morgan, with her soft hair tousled around her face. She'd done something to it because the color was more red than reddish-brown now, with lighter streaks that caught the soft light from the bedside lamp.
She sat up and drew her knees to the side, her sleepy gaze watching me with a combination of bewilderment and worry. She dragged one hand through her hair, stifled a yawn, then glanced at the clock beside the bed before turning back to me.
"Is everything okay? Did something happen?"
I blinked. Shook my head. Blinked again. It wasn't just the sight of Morgan in my bed that had me speechless, especially since I'd been so convinced just a minute ago that I'd never see her again. But here she was, sitting up in my bed, watching me with her sleepy gaze. I should probably say something—I needed to say something—but I couldn't drag my eyes away from the outfit she was wearing.
Instead of her regular pajamas of a tank shirt and short flannel shorts, she was wearing a satiny top held up by two of the skinniest straps I'd even seen. One strap fell off her shoulder and hung on her upper arm, tempting me to walk over and straighten it—
Or pull it all the way off.
The champagne-colored material was shiny, reflecting the soft light of the lamp. A strip of lace topped the deep V of the neck line, giving me more than just a teasing glance of the small swell of her breasts. The points of each nipple pressed against the satiny material and I wondered, for a brief second, how the material must feel sliding over bare skin.
"Dylan? Is something wrong?"
The edge of concern in her voice finally sunk in and I met her gaze, saw the same concern in the depths of her vibrant green eyes. I shook my head and pointed halfheartedly behind me in what I hoped was the direction of the kitchen. "I thought you were gone."
"Why would you think that?"
I pointed again. "The note."
"Oh." The faintest of flushes stained her cheeks as she looked away. "I forgot about that. I'm sorry, I should have thrown it away."
"So you were going to leave?"
"I think so."
"You think?"
Her gaze darted to mine then drifted away. One shoulder lifted in a small shrug. "Yes, I was going to leave."
Her answer caught me by surprise, simply because she admitted it. I'd expected her to deny it, to come up with some excuse or story or...something.
I turned away, busied myself with undoing the buttons on my shirt. I needed something else to focus on, at least for a few minutes, while I tried to clear my head and make sense of what I was thinking and feeling. My fingers were thick and clumsy and I ended up popping off two buttons. Fine, whatever. Not like I didn't have a dozen more dress shirts. And at least it let me get a grip on the sense of betrayal I felt, an emotion I had no business feeling and one that made no sense.
I sucked in a deep breath then shrugged out of the shirt and tossed it over the back of the sofa. When I was sure I could talk without sounding like a blithering ass, I turned back to face Morgan. "Then why are you still here?"
The words came out sharper than I intended and I realized as soon as I said them that there was probably a dozen other ways I could have asked the question without making it sound like an accusation. Without making it sound like I was disappointed she was still here.
Her chin lifted a notch and I didn't miss the stubbornness that flashed in her eyes. "My bus leaves tomorrow. I'll be out of your hair then."
"Morgan—"
She reached over and turned out the light, but not before I saw the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. I started to move toward the bed then stopped. She had already rolled to her