Indecent Suggestion - By Elizabeth Bevarly Page 0,11

other things—at the moment.

Unable to help himself—probably because he was a glutton for punishment, or maybe because he hadn’t had enough sleep, or maybe because he felt edgy not being able to smoke, or maybe all of the above—he strode into the bedroom, until he was standing only a couple of feet from the bed. Then he sat right next to her and arced his arm over her body, to brace it on the mattress on her other side.

Yet she said nothing, only gazed at him with huge brown eyes that were filled with something he told himself he’d be better off not pondering. Mostly because he was afraid if he pondered it, he’d figure out what it was, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, because as long as he didn’t know, he could still harbor a hope, however crazy, that maybe someday she’d be in his bed, with him, not just because she trusted him implicitly, but because he made her hot as hell.

So instead of pondering, Turner leaned forward, closing what little space was left between them, until his face was scarcely inches from her own. She really was rumpled and warm from sleep, he couldn’t help noticing, her face flushed and her breathing shallow from that early morning sort of breathlessness. Somehow, though, he kept himself from reaching out to her, from skimming his fingertips over her fine skin and silky hair.

He couldn’t avoid the scent of her, however, because it rose up to encircle him, entice him, enchant him. She smelled like summer soap and springtime laundry, a fragrance made all the more poignant because the weather outside was cold and gray, heralding the onset of winter, and it would be a long time before he encountered such warmth and sunshine again. Better than that, though, she smelled like cigarettes, something he wanted almost as badly as he wanted Becca, which made her doubly desirable.

Her eyes, like polished onyx, had grown larger, darker, as he’d drawn nearer, and they searched his face, so close to her own now, as if she were seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe there. Her fingers curled tightly into the fabric of the pillowcase on each side of her head, almost as if she were trying to keep herself from reaching out to touch him, too. More than anything he had ever wanted in his life, he wanted to loosen those fingers and see where she would put them.

And he wanted, too, to kiss her. For starters. So he leaned in a little closer, his mouth hovering now scant millimeters above her own. And then very, very softly, and very, very seductively…

“Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

3

IT TOOK A MOMENT for Turner’s question to register with Becca, because she was way too busy being bewitched, bothered and befuddled to try and figure out what the hell he was yammering about. All she could do was wonder about the weird, wanton wistfulness winding through her, and how her body temperature had been rising ever since she’d awoken to find him gazing at her from the bedroom door.

God, he was sexy in the morning. In all their years as friends, she’d never spent the night with him, so she’d never seen him like this, all tousled and sleepy-eyed and unshaven. His jaw was dark and rough and uncivil looking, and his black hair hung over his forehead in a way that made her want to lift a hand to brush it back. In fact, she wanted to thread her fingers repeatedly through those silky locks, then skim her palm back over the crown of his head, until she could curl her fingers around his warm nape and pull his head down to hers, and take his mouth in a hungry kiss that just went on and on and on. Then push his head lower, down over her breasts and belly, then lower still, between her legs and—

And what the hell was she thinking? she wondered when she realized where her thoughts—and Turner’s mouth—were going. Obviously, she hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. But that was what happened when you stayed up late watching old movies and then stayed up even later watching your best friend sleep because you’d never realized before how sexy he was when he did that. And now here Turner was, crowding her space, looking all hot and smelling all earthy and sounding all seductive, and gosh, would he think her untoward if she