way out of the kitchen, a burst of laughter had her pausing to glance back, a smile on her face. Her gaze roamed the small crowd who had welcomed her in, a warm feeling running through her.
They were so nice, she thought. So nice, it was quite likely she might be a little bit in love with Vance’s family.
But surely that wasn’t the case.
She hadn’t fallen for the family any more than she’d fallen for Vance.
* * *
WHEN LAYLA REACHED Vance’s room, she hovered in the open doorway, her eyes going everywhere. The floor was like the rest of the house, polished pavers covered with expensive-looking area rugs. Under the windows directly across from where she stood was a massive desk fitted with little drawers and black iron pulls that gave it a Spanish flavor. To her left, flanking a dresser that matched the desk, were two doors, presumably leading to a bathroom and closet. On her right was a heavy, queen-size bed with a navy coverlet.
Lying atop it was Vance, who appeared asleep.
She rapped her knuckles lightly on the doorjamb.
He blinked, rousing, then lifted onto his elbows to peer at her through drowsy eyes. “Hey,” he said. “Where’ve you been?”
“I think that’s my question for you.”
His brows came together, and he looked about, as if puzzled by his surroundings. After a moment, he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he said. “I came up here in search of my old softball mitt. Just stretched out for a second...”
The night before, she’d slept the deep sleep of emotional exhaustion. But perhaps he had not had a peaceful eight hours. Maybe she snored.
“I’m disturbing your rest, staying in your room at the beach house. Tonight I’ll go back to my own,” she said. The relief she felt at getting out the words let her know it was the right move. Self-protection was clearly in order. Separation from him a first priority.
His brows came together again. “I sleep with you just fine. As a matter of fact...” He crooked his forefinger. “C’mere.”
She clutched at the doorjamb. “I’m supposed to be bringing you down for dinner.”
“Not until you come here for a minute.”
On a sigh, she stepped into the room. “What?”
He smiled at her, the charming smile he’d inherited from his father. “Come a little closer, baby.”
The coaxing tone ran down her back like a seductive caress. Cursing her wilting willpower, she approached the bed, then yelped when he lunged forward to grab her wrist and pull her onto the mattress. “Vance!”
“Layla.” With a villainous laugh, he rolled so his long body loomed over hers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m fulfilling a lifelong fantasy. I can’t tell you how many times I thought about getting a girl in this bed.”
“You thought about getting your high school squeeze, Marianne Kelly, in this bed,” Layla said, and promised herself her lower lip wasn’t pushing out in a pout.
Vance gave it a light bite, anyway. “I wasn’t mature enough to imagine the vision that is you,” he said, framing her face with his big hands. “You are so stunningly pretty, you know that? I’ll be seeing these big brown eyes in my dreams for the rest of my life.”
Because that’s the only place they’d be together—in dreams, she thought, but dismissed her sadness. She’d gone into this with big brown eyes wide-open, hadn’t she? Temporary lovers...because sometimes a person just needs to be held. Her very own words.
“Stunningly pretty,” he said again, his voice going softer.
Her melting response was a clear warning, and she tried pushing at his shoulders. When he didn’t budge, she frowned at him. “Are you telling me you didn’t sneak girls up here? I thought you were the resident bad boy.”
“Even I had a line I wouldn’t cross,” he said. “Once out of high school I moved into the bachelor house on the other side of the oaks and my bedroom rules were my own.” He bent as if to take her mouth.
She turned her head to the side, so he kissed her cheek. Separation, she knew, meant curtailing the lip to lip. Her gaze caught on the one wall she hadn’t seen while standing in the doorway. It was covered with shelves that were packed with trophies and photographs. “What’s all that?”
Vance glanced over his shoulder. “Souvenirs of my misspent youth.”
“Misspent? The trophies seem to tell a different story.” She pushed harder at him now so she could disentangle her body from his.
With a sigh, Vance let