Now You See Her Linda Howard(20)

"Not cuddling, huddling. There's a difference." He laid his hand over her feet; she was struck by the fact that his hand was big enough to cover both of her feet. Heat began seeping through her socks to her icy toes.



Convulsive shivering suddenly shook her, despite the warmth of coat, blanket, and body, and Richard gathered her closer, tucking her head under his chin and pulling the blanket up so that her nose was covered, warming the air she breathed. "You're going to smother me," she protested.

"Not for a while yet." There was that note of laughter in his voice again, though when she rolled her head back to see, his mouth was perfectly straight. No, not straight; she paused, mesmerized by the clear cut of his lips. He had a good mouth, not too thin, not too full. Not so wide that a woman would feel as if she might fall in, and not so small it looked as if he'd just sucked a lemon like Ronald Trump's, or whatever his name was. All in all, Richard's lips looked just right.

"You're staring," he said.

Over the years she had been caught staring at people more times than she could remember, and usually it didn't bother her, but this time she blushed. "I do that," she mumbled. "Stare at people. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't bother me. Stare away."

There was a warm, soft, indulgent tone in his voice that gave her another one of those alarming, exciting stomach flutters It occurred to her that sitting in a man's lap was not a good way to discourage his attentions, or flatten her own interest. On the other hand, not only did she doubt he would let her get up, the warmth was so marvelous she didn't want to get up, at least not now. Though she still shivered, she could tell the body heat thing was working, because the shivers were lessening in intensity.



"When were you in the army?" She felt she had to say something, because just sitting there was awkward, and if you couldn't talk to a man when you were in his lap, then when could you?

"A long time ago, when I was young and macho."

"Why did you join? Or were you drafted?" She had no idea when the draft had been abolished.

"I joined. I didn't have any money for college, so that seemed like the best way to get an education.

Turned out I had a knack for things military. I would probably still be in if I hadn't stumbled on a knack for the stock market, too. The stock market is a lot more lucrative, and I wanted money."

"Well, you have it now."

"Yes, I do."

His body heat was seductive, melting her bones, leaching strength from her muscles. She felt herself sinking into him, molding to him like soft gelatin. The departing chill left her limp and sleepy, utterly relaxed. Not even the hard ridge forming under her bottom could alarm her. She yawned and stuck her cold nose into the warm curve where jaw joined neck. She felt him give a little jump, but then his arms tightened.

She should get up. She knew she should. This was asking for trouble. She wasn't a child, and she knew how sexual this situation was, and how much more sexual it could become. But the warmth… ah, God, the warmth! She was comfortable for the first time since getting out of bed that morning, more comfortable, truly, than she had been in a long time, at least a year. An electric blanket didn't provide the same kind of heat as another body, didn't reach all the way down to the marrow of her bones. The army knew what it was about, making its young soldiers cuddle.

She yawned again and felt a chuckle rumble in his chest, his throat, though it never actually made it out. "Go to sleep," he murmured, deep voice soothing. "I'll take care of you."

Sweeney wasn't a trusting soul; a solitary woman couldn't afford to be. But she didn't have a moment's doubt that Richard was a man of his word. She could feel sleep coming, heavy and delicious, and she gave herself up to it with a little sigh. "Don't let me sleep past one o'clock," she said, the words slurred, and closed her eyes.

One o'clock? Richard stifled his laughter. A glance at his wristwatch told him the time wasn't yet eleven-thirty. Sweeney evidently saw nothing wrong in expecting him to hold her in his lap for an hour and a half and let her sleep, disregarding all concern for any cramps he might develop or appointments he might have. The thing was, she was right. He would rather be right where he was than any other place he could think of.

His cell phone was in his coat pocket. Using his free hand, he carefully reached inside the jacket without disturbing her, though the back of his hand brushed her breast, which disturbed him. He ignored his aching erection and flipped open the flat little phone, pressing the buttons with his thumb.

"I won't be going out to lunch," he said quietly when Edward answered. "Pick me up at one-fifteen."

"Very good, sir."

Richard ended the call and folded the phone. Sweeney stirred and nudged her nose against his neck, but didn't open her eyes. She was truly, deeply, asleep.

He shifted into a more comfortable position, settling his shoulders and easing his head back against the couch. He was going to be here awhile, so he might as well relax and enjoy it. Holding Sweeney on his lap was definitely enjoyable. He had a sneaking idea she had no clue how appealing she was, with her big blue eyes and curly mass of hair, but he had always thought she was one of the most attractive women he'd ever met. Not beautiful—attractive. People liked to look at her, talk to her. Men would have been swarming all over her if she had ever given any indication she was aware of them as men, not just sexless acquaintances. She was an expert at keeping people at a distance, blocking any but the most superficial contact.