“I liked what we were doing.”
He smiled despite himself. She was so going to regret this in the morning. If he thought otherwise, he’d be tempted to take her to his fussy, floral bed. Very tempted.
Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to keep the touch as impersonal as he could. Not an easy task considering what they’d just done.
“I think you’ll like getting some sleep just as much.”
“Mmm-mm.” She shook her head.
He chuckled.
He walked her to her apartment, fishing in her purse for her keys, as well as keeping her balanced against his side. Not an easy feat.
Once the door was unlocked, he helped her inside, relieved to see Daisy wasn’t in the living room. He didn’t want to explain why her older sister, her highly responsible, often laced-down older sister, was sloshed.
Without too much difficulty, he maneuvered Poppy to her bedroom. It was a pale green room with an antique four-poster bed and a simple, cream-colored duvet.
“Lie down, baby,” he said, half-setting her onto the bed. She fell back, her legs still hanging off the edge. He scooped them up, spinning her so she was fully on the mattress. He fixed the pillows. Then debated on whether he should try to undress her.
The erection in his pants told him that was probably a bad idea—at the very least an experiment in torture.
Instead, he placed a throw blanket from the foot of the bed over her.
“Sleep well, baby.” He placed a kiss on her forehead.
She nodded, with a sweet little smile on her lips, sleep already creeping over her.
He watched, all amusement and pleasure disappearing. He couldn’t get involved with this woman.
But even as he told himself that, his gaze roamed down her body, silhouetted by the blanket. Her delicate hands resting on her stomach. Her lovely face.
No. He couldn’t do that to her.
He turned and left the room, heading for the door. Then he stopped and returned to the hallway. Poppy would want him to be sure Daisy was okay.
He guessed that the door past Poppy’s was Daisy’s room. If the BEWARE: FALLING OBJECTS sign with a stick figure getting hit with things that looked like … ducks? was any indication.
He knocked lightly, deciding just opening a teenage girl’s bedroom door was probably not a good idea. He listened, then tapped again. Still no answer.
He could hear faint strains of music, but no actual response.
Carefully, he turned the knob and peeked inside. A lava lamp glowed on her bureau and cast the room in pink. He could make out the faint light of her iPod speakers. A song played low.
And Daisy was curled in bed, covers up to her chin. A book was opened beside her on the mattress. She rolled over, her face toward him, but she didn’t wake. In her sleep, she looked like a little angel.
Too bad he knew the difference.
Then he smiled to himself. Not that he couldn’t respect someone who went for what she wanted. He was that way too.
He closed the door and walked back down the hall, pausing outside Poppy’s door. She hadn’t moved, and he could hear her even breathing.
He watched her for a moment.
He always went for what he wanted. But not this time. This time he’d walk away. No matter how hard it was.
CHAPTER 23
“Whoa, I guess you had fun last night.”
Poppy tried not to grimace at her little sister, which was difficult, because her head pounded. And she felt like an idiot—on so many counts.
She wandered over to the coffeemaker, very pleased to see Daisy had already made some. Daisy loved coffee as much as she did, and Poppy supposed if that was her little sister’s biggest vice, they were doing okay.
Although this morning Poppy was learning the payback on vice was hardly worth it. She prepared her coffee, the clinking of the spoon against the ceramic mug ricocheting through her head like gunshots.
Finally, she collapsed onto one of the kitchen chairs and stared at the steaming coffee, not even attempting a sip. Now even her favorite morning beverage didn’t appeal. In fact, the usually wonderful scent reeked to her. Like rotten garbage mixed with turpentine.
She nudged the mug away.
“So?”
This time, Poppy did grimace at her sister. Daisy couldn’t possibly expect details. Not right this moment, anyway.
But her obvious misery wasn’t going to deter Daisy.
“So you did have fun, right?”
Poppy managed a slight nod. No sudden movements. No … sudden movements.
“Did Killian have fun too? Did he meet anyone?”
Let’s see. He’d definitely met a drunken floozy in the elevator. She dropped her head to rest on her hand, her elbow sliding across the table under the weight.
God, she’d never known her head could hurt this badly. Like her brain no longer fit in her head and was pulsing directly against her skull. The pain almost obliterated her embarrassment. Almost.
“Did you meet anyone?”
Poppy managed another minute headshake.
Then Poppy’s complexion must have taken on a thoroughly green hue, because Daisy seemed to take pity on her and stopped asking questions.
Of course, her cereal sounded unusually crunchy this morning.
Finally, Daisy rose and placed her dishes in the sink.
“Can I get you anything?” Daisy asked as she picked up her school bag.
“No,” Poppy managed, then had to swallow several times to tamp down the nausea. God, she was an idiot.
Daisy pursed her lips as if debating what to do.
“Don’t worry about me,” Poppy said, mustering enough energy to sit up. “I think I just have a bug or something.”
Daisy nodded, although Poppy was pretty sure she wasn’t really buying the flu excuse.
“Go on,” Poppy said, even managing a little smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Text me if you need anything.”
Poppy nodded.
Someone knocked on the apartment door.
“Probably Madison,” Poppy said, swinging her book bag onto her shoulder and waving as she left the kitchen.
“Have a good day,” Poppy called after her. Then she let her head drop to the table, her temples pounding, her stomach roiling.
Daisy opened the door, a smile on her face, which disappeared as soon as she saw Killian standing there.
“Expecting someone else, huh?” he said wryly.
Daisy glanced over her shoulder, then stepped out in the hall.
“What happened to my sister?”
