Northern Rebel Daring in the Dark - By Jennifer Labrecque Page 0,109
it was my grandparents that drew me and not the place itself. Once I moved out on my own, New York felt more like home.”
“My parents aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy either.”
They weren’t even touching—well, except for her toe against his calf—but he felt closer to her emotionally than he ever had to anyone, even Elliott. He almost told her he hadn’t said that about his parents, but he supposed he had. Indirectly. She had a way of seeing through to him. And as she’d said earlier, what was the point of prevarication?
“But you’re warm and outgoing. How did that happen?”
“I’m an anomaly, the which one of these doesn’t belong.” She laughed and the rueful note tore at his heart.
“I’ve always been the odd man out, as well.” He’d thought it innumerable times. It was liberating to say it.
“What are they like?” she asked.
“My parents?” She nodded. “Clever, engaging, articulate. They’re a self-contained unit. They made wonderful cocktail-party guests and lousy parents.”
“No brothers or sisters?”
“Nope. Just me.” And it had been just him in every respect. They hadn’t been a family. Growing up had been such a lonely experience until he and Elliott became friends that he didn’t particularly want to revisit it. “What was it like with two sisters?”
He switched the conversation back to her. She looked at him and he knew she was onto him, but she indulged him nonetheless, launching into tales about her siblings.
She was a natural storyteller. He loved the rhythm and cadence of her voice. There was a soothing quality to her speech even when she was regaling him with her childhood escapades.
“You might be the baby of the family, but I’m seeing a pattern here. You’re definitely the instigator.”
“Hmm. I told you...I’m the one who doesn’t quite fit.” Drowsiness exaggerated her drawl.
“You sound tired,” he said.
“I am. What time is it?”
Simon checked his luminous watch. “Almost midnight.”
“It’s still early, but I think I’m emotionally exhausted and then too much fun...”
“Get some sleep.”
“Mmm. That’s a good idea.”
They’d had sex twice, but there was such an intimacy to actually sharing a bed with another person, letting your guard down enough to drift into unconsciousness....
“Would you rather have me on the couch?” he asked.
“No. Stay with me.” Don’t read more into it than she means. “It’s cooler in here...and I don’t want you to go. I changed the sheets this morning, if that was...you know, if you felt funny about... I’m making a mess of this.”
“You’re not making a mess of anything.” He slid up the bed to stretch out beside her. She was one woman in a million—concerned that sleeping on sheets after Elliott would bother him. He ran his finger down the line of her nose and pressed a chaste good-night kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for telling me. Go to sleep and I’ll be right here.”
She smiled sleepily, hands-down the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, on or off camera. “Try to sleep, too.” She found his leg with her foot.
“I will.”
He lay in her bed and listened to the muted sounds from a city that never slept, even in the midst of a blackout, and the soft cadence of her breathing. Without forethought, he lightly stroked her hair away from her face, wanting only to touch her while he still could, unwilling to sleep away his time with her. She uttered a soft satisfied sound.
“Simon?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad tonight happened.” Imminent sleep slurred her words.
“So am I,” he said.
Despite the suffocating heat, she shifted closer to him and—what the hell, they were both sweaty and sticky—he pulled her into his body. Her thigh slid between his and she curled her arm across his chest. She pressed a tender, drowsy kiss to his chest and he quietly fell a little harder, faster, deeper in love with her.
8
“NO! COME BACK!”
Bloody hell! Simon jerked up, momentarily disoriented by the strange bed, candles and a screeching woman. Righto. Tawny. Her bed. Blackout.
“What’s the matter?” He jumped to his feet and grabbed Tawny, who shook like a leaf.
“Peaches.” She gulped air and motioned to the bedroom window. “He pushed through the screen and went out the window. He’s on the ledge.” She death-gripped his arm. “He doesn’t have any front claws. What if he slips out there?”
She loved that cat. Simon didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, he just did. He worked the screen loose, tossed it back into the room and stuck his head out the window.
“Can you see him?” Tawny squeezed into the window opening. “Oh, God.”