He still wasn't awake and someone was coming through his house toward them. She could make out the quick footsteps.
And then, since she was holding her own, she could hear the intruder take a long indrawn breath from his or her place at the threshold of the bedroom.
"I'm sorry to wake you up," a female voice said. "But we have to talk."
A female voice. Hannah's muscles tensed, even as she wished she could melt into the mattress like Hershey squares on a summer sidewalk. She hoped to God it wasn't an ex. Wouldn't that just cap off her first foray into Sexventureland? Hannah Davis, unwilling witness to a confrontation between parted lovers.
"Are you awake?" the voice demanded.
The man across the sheets from Hannah twitched. As his head wasn't under the covers like hers, she couldn't see anything above his collarbone, but there was an alertness about his body that hinted he was no longer sleeping.
"Go away," he mumbled, guaranteeing he was no longer sleeping. And making it pretty clear that whoever had interrupted his beauty rest wasn't welcome.
Whew. Maybe it was his sister or something.
"I won't," the female replied, sounding stubborn. "Wake up and talk to me."
"Make an appointment with my secretary." Her bedmate didn't sound the least willing to cooperate. "Maybe I have an opening sometime in the next century."
Hannah tried to be as still and small as possible. Maybe if she was really quiet, the intruder would take the hint and then the man she was in bed with would go back to sleep without recalling her presence.
It could happen, right? There was still hope to get out of here without muss, fuss, or regrets. Well, maybe not without regrets, she admitted, as the man rolled onto his back again. He must have scooted up on the headboard at the same time, because now she was looking at his navel and the elastic line of silky boxers instead of his chest.
Surely she'd regret never recalling what was beneath that slick material and exactly how skilled he was with it.
"I'm not going anywhere," the per sis tent female declared.
The man beside Hannah released a frustrated sigh. "All right, then. What the hell is it that you want?"
"I've come to a decision." There was a note of triumph in the other woman's voice. "Something I should have considered a long time ago."
"Yeah? What's that?" From her own sibling life, Hannah recognized his surly tone. Surely it signaled her bedmate was talking to his sister.
"We can't go on like this," the other woman said. "You're going to have to marry me."
Hannah jerked in shock. This wasn't a sister. This wasn't an ex. This was his current woman, and he'd just taken another - her, Hannah! - to bed.
The new pregnant silence in the room made clear her muscle spasm had given her away.
"You have someone there with you." The other female sounded more surprised than accusing.
"Not that it's any of your business," her bedmate replied in agreement. Then he whipped the sheet down from Hannah's head to expose her, blinking, to the full morning light and the speculative gaze of a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman.
A woman who, oddly enough, looked as if she was trying not to laugh. "Your secretary, I presume?"
Hannah slowly sat up, clutching the sheet to her camisole-covered breasts. Her glance skittered toward Finn and then jumped back to the exotic-looking female standing at the end of the bed. She was tall and leggy, about the same height as Hannah and with hair the same shade and length. In a pair of painted-on canary jeans, a flowered tunic, and tall stilettos, though, her sartorial style was the antithesis of a schoolteacher's.
With the fingers of one hand, Hannah tried combing some order into her sleep-tangled hair. "I...um...I didn't know," she told Finn's girlfriend. "You have to believe me."
The girlfriend blinked. She didn't appear distraught, or devastated, or any of the dozen other degrading emotions Hannah had experienced when she'd learned what Duncan had done behind her back. But Hannah had tried to put a good public face on it too.
She'd done all her cringing and crying in private.
Her hand left the mess of her hair to wave in mute apology. "You see, it was midnight, and - and - " She glanced over at the man in the middle of all this. Why was he so quiet? He could try helping her out here. It wasn't as if he was dead or anything.
She heated her glance to a glare when