No One But You (Silver Springs #2)(34)

Knowing that his interest couldn’t be comforting to her, not after all she’d been through and the doubts she probably still harbored where he was concerned, he cleared his throat, set his glass aside and stood. “Sorry for...staring. I’d better get going.”

Her eyebrows came together in a look of despair. “Already?”

Her response surprised him. She’d just caught him ogling her; didn’t she want him gone? “You’d like me to stay even though...”

“It’s okay.” Her blush deepened. “I know it’s probably been a long time for you, and...and there’s nothing wrong with looking, right?”

“There is if it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to do that. I...got distracted. It has been a long time for me since...since I’ve been with someone in that way. But I would never come on to you, never put you in a compromising situation. All you have to do for me is cook and clean and look after my sister.” He lifted his hands. “I promise you that.”

“Thank you. The reassurance is...appreciated. And, knowing how tired you must be, I wouldn’t ask you to stay any longer except...having someone here is nice, you know? It gives me a little break from having to be quite so diligent. Sometimes, late at night, it feels like I’m going out of my mind.”

“You’re just tired.”

“Yeah. But not only physically. I’m tired of keeping watch. Of being worried. Of never knowing when he might appear to challenge me in some way.” She made a negating gesture with one hand. “That isn’t your problem, of course. I don’t mean to drag you into anything. I just thought we could spend a few more minutes chatting about our lives, or something else, if you prefer. You know...have the chance to calm down before facing the rest of this nerve-racking night.”

She didn’t need to chat with anyone; she needed a chance to recover, to feel safe. And she needed more sleep than she was getting. “Bring me a blanket and a pillow,” he said. “I’ll stay here for a few hours, on the couch, so you can rest without worry.”

Her eyes widened. “You don’t have to go that far—”

“It’s fine.”

“But you must be as weary of your battles as I am mine.”

He was weary, but as harrowing as his ordeal had been, it’d lasted only a year. He got the impression she’d endured her “hell” for much longer. “Whether I crash here or at home doesn’t matter. After sleeping on such a thin mattress while I was in jail, I can nod off just about anywhere.”

A look of relief came over her face. “That’d be great. Really great. If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind. I’m normally not like this—just sort of at loose ends tonight.”

“Like I said, it’s no trouble.”

“Good.” The tension seemed to leave her body. “Then I wouldn’t have to worry that Sly might be...bothering you out at the farm, and that it would be my fault.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. Go sleep. I’ll let myself out in a few hours.”

“Okay.” She put down her wine, left the room and returned with an old quilt and pillow. “I’d let you take the bed, since you’re doing me a favor, but my son’s in there and moving him would risk waking him.”

“You share a bed with Jayden?”

“A mattress, actually. That’s all we’ve got.”

No doubt Sly preferred Jayden to be sleeping with his mother. Then she’d be unlikely to invite another man into her bed.

She downed the rest of her wine, gave him a grateful smile and told him good-night.

After she went into her room, he sat on the couch sipping his own wine for another ten or fifteen minutes. He couldn’t get the image of her bare legs out of his mind. Even after he’d drained his glass and lain down, he couldn’t seem to rein in the desire that kept him rock-hard. Now that he’d thought about sex, he couldn’t quit thinking about it.

That she’d given him her pillow didn’t help. He could smell her perfume on the case.





9


What’d just happened?

Sadie’s heart thumped against her chest as she crawled into bed with Jayden. Dawson had never given her the impression he found her attractive; she’d assumed he didn’t. She’d noticed certain things about him, of course—like his perfect backside, since the fit of his jeans made that obvious, how the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders rippled as he worked, or the way his lips moved when he talked or smiled. Like Sly had said, most women noticed Dawson. They’d have to be blind not to. But he’d seemed completely indifferent to her.

Until a few moments ago.

Remembering the hunger in his eyes took Sadie’s breath away. He wanted a woman—so badly she wasn’t sure he was feeling very particular about which one. Acknowledging that helped her cool off a little. It wasn’t her he wanted; anyone would probably do.

Still, she hadn’t felt young or attractive for some time. She’d become a cliché, had fallen to the unappealing status of “beleaguered mom anxious to get out of a bad marriage” and was happy if she could just get an extra hour of sleep in a night or a generous tip at the diner. Romance hadn’t even entered her consciousness, so achieving the interest of a man who was that good-looking, even though there was still a great deal of suspicion surrounding him, reminded her that she wasn’t too old or too far gone to feel the kind of titillating desire depicted in movies. For the first time in ages, she wanted to make love. And she was so unaccustomed to the arousal flooding her body that she didn’t know how to combat it.