Back In The Bedroom (The Wrong Bed #29)(19)

“Love you,” Tessa said, avoiding the subject of Reilly, and when she clicked off, she tried to find the peace the shower had given her, but the thought of Reilly had shattered it.

He kissed like heaven.

That thought came out of nowhere, and as Carolyn left the bathroom, Tessa went still in the act of drying off, having conveniently and completely blanked that part out of her recollection of the events to her sister.

She’d instigated the kiss. The kisses. She’d practically begged him for them. That he’d caved in spite of trying to be hard and edgy and distant was of little consolation now.

She hated that she’d gone weak and girly on him, that she’d needed comfort in the first place, but bottom line…it had happened and she couldn’t change it. So it was probably for the best that they’d each gone their separate ways after the police had arrived, without speaking again.

Sighing, she tossed aside her towel and prepared to go on with her life, secure in the knowledge she could make it through anything, including being held hostage.

Including being kissed and touched by a man she’d inexplicably been drawn to in the face of danger; a wild, tough kind of man she’d never see again.

Which was just as well, really. She was quite certain in the light of a normal day she’d never be attracted to a man like Reilly Ledger. Never.



REILLY GOT UP EARLY on Sunday morning. He ran his usual five miles. Showered and grabbed a quick breakfast.

Alone. The way he liked it.

Alone was easy. Alone meant not needing to worry about anyone but himself. Alone meant doing as he pleased, when he pleased.

Alone was…habit.

He knew what that said about him. At least he knew what his mother thought that said about him. He sure as hell knew what the women in his life thought that said about him—they’d all been clear as crystal on their way out his door.

He was selfish.

He didn’t feel.

He was a robot.

Then there’d been the woman who’d simply tried to kill him. That was a memory for the books and had a great deal to do with his dislike of close, dark places, but he wasn’t going to go there.

And yes, maybe he was a little selfish, but he sure as hell felt things, far more than he liked. As for being a robot, well, would a robot have responded to Tessa’s soft, giving body and hungry mouth?

Not likely.

Okay, settled then. He spent the rest of his weekend in precious solitude. And if he occasionally thought about Tessa, wondered how she was coping with the memory of the ordeal, he told himself it was out of general concern. The way he’d be concerned about anyone who’d faced such a trauma.

It was nothing personal. He just knew personal trauma, that’s all.

So why he dreamed so vividly at night—dark, haunting dreams that he couldn’t quite remember in the morning—was beyond him.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to remember.

His father called and again thanked him for helping Tessa but, looking back, Reilly couldn’t say that he’d helped her all that much. Everything he’d done had been for himself—climbing through the attic, nailing his captors…kissing Tess. That had definitely been for him. At the time she’d overwhelmed his body and senses. He supposed he should be glad it hadn’t gone any further, as that would have been even more difficult to face now.

And things were pretty difficult as they were.



MONDAY MORNING DAWNED bright and clear. Just as Reilly was leaving for work, he heard a knock at his door. He grabbed the leather saddlebag he used as a briefcase, figuring he’d turn down whomever was trying to sell him something on his way out.

Eddie stood there—tall, lean, fit, looking much younger than his forty-nine years. His dark hair was in artful disarray, his clothes no doubt picked out by a stylist. His smile was genuine and made Reilly groan.

“Morning, son.” Eddie lifted a McDonald’s bag, which they both knew damn well was a bribe.

A bribe Reilly was willing to take if there was a breakfast sandwich in there.

“I have tickets to the ball game tonight. Join me?”

Reilly took his gaze off the bag. “Just you?”

“Well, I thought I’d invite a few friends along.”

Women. Not that Reilly had a problem with women, but Eddie always overdid a good time. There’d be a horde of them and Reilly didn’t like hordes.

A loud honk came from the driveway. Reilly popped his head out the door and saw Eddie’s red convertible BMW, filled to capacity.

With women.

In this case, given the size of the car, that meant three women. “Small harem today,” Reilly noted. “You really need a bigger car.”

Eddie sighed. “I keep telling you I’ve changed. I like them one at a time these days.”

“Or three.”

“Reilly—”

“Look, it’s your life.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” For a moment, frustration swam in Eddie’s eyes. “But I want you in that life, damn it.”

“I’m in it. How can I help it, you keep showing up on my doorstep.”

Eddie sighed again, then let out a rough laugh. “I keep hoping that one of these days you’ll show up on mine.”

“You’ve got a pretty full plate at the moment.” Reilly nodded toward the carload, which reminded him of his biggest life’s goal—Don’t turn out like good old Dad.