Phoebe awoke in the dark, disoriented for a few minutes until she realized where she was. The memory of her lovemaking with Wyatt put an immediate smile on her face. Wow. She'd never experienced anything quite like that before.
It wasn't just the physical aspects of lovemaking, which were admittedly spectacular. It was everything else- his concern about coming on too strong, the fact that he'd thought about protecting her, his frantic search for a condom, his determination that she enjoy the experience as much as he did.
She'd felt comfortable with him, without the usual self-doubts, without that troublesome 'icky' feeling she'd gotten in the past when she'd made love to someone she shouldn't have. Everything had felt… right.
He stirred beside her, throwing a possessive arm over her, but he didn't wake. She snuggled deeper into the covers and sighed. She'd meant it when she told him she enjoyed afterglow even more than the sex act itself. For her, it was a warm sense of oneness with her partner, with the whole world.
Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. Harsh reality returned, and in this case it was harsher than usual.
She'd gone to bed with her boss.
In L.A. she'd spent a lot of time and energy rationalizing the fact she was sleeping with her producer, hoping futilely she hadn't deep-sixed her acting career. Sleeping with Joel hadn't been the career-buster, though. Breaking up with him had.
Was her situation any less dire with Wyatt? At least she could feel pretty confident Wyatt wouldn't spread smut about her. She couldn't see him using their intimacy against her. He just wasn't the harassing type.
But she felt she'd somehow betrayed Rolland and Helen. They'd said to 'be nice' to Wyatt, and they obviously had some sort of romantic match in mind between her and their grandson, but she didn't imagine they'd approve of a one-night stand.
One night.
It was obvious that was all she'd get. Wyatt had been pretty clear he didn't want any attachments. There was a reason he was a confirmed bachelor at thirty-nine. Her confidence bolstered by a sudden burst of need, she'd come on pretty strong, and he'd responded. She couldn't blame him for anything.
Herself, she could blame. Loneliness was no excuse for throwing herself at a man. Just look what that sort of behavior had done for her mother-a string of men who never stuck around, and zero self-worth.
There were worse things than being without a man, she told herself, as she had so often told Olga. She'd known when she'd set her lofty career goals that she would be making some sacrifices. One of them was forgoing love, marriage and family, at least for a while. Just because this temporary intimacy with Wyatt made her realize what she was missing was no reason to second-guess herself or change her plans.
She had to get out of here. She didn't think she could bear what came with the harsh morning light. Apologies, awkward escapes into the bathroom, halting goodbyes, insincere promises. She would rather keep memories of their night together untainted by such unpleasantness.
She slipped out of bed. Unlike Wyatt, she couldn't move around his bedroom in total darkness, so she opened the door onto the hallway and turned on the bathroom light. The ambient glow was just enough that she could locate her clothes… neatly folded over the back of a chair.
Now, she was sure that wasn't how she'd left them. With a shrug, she dressed. Wyatt didn't even stir. She couldn't just leave without a word, she decided. Though he would no doubt be grateful he didn't have to deal with an awkward morning after, it seemed cold to just leave without acknowledging how great last night had been, even if it was a mistake.
He had a small desk in one corner of the bedroom. In the dim light she rummaged around until she found a pen and a scrap of paper.
After thinking a few moments, she scribbled a few breezy words. He would know she was okay with what had happened and that she expected nothing. That should put his mind at ease.
She placed the note on her pillow, watched him sleep for a few more minutes, then slipped out.
Chapter 8
Wyatt awoke feeling incredibly well-rested. He hadn't slept that soundly, or that long, in months. Sun streamed through the window, a novelty for him, given that he usually was out of bed before dawn.
Then he remembered the reason for his sense of well-being. In a word, Phoebe.
He reached out to her but encountered nothing but empty space where she ought to be.
Coming more fully awake, he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. But that didn't help. The bed was still empty beside him.
'Phoebe?' he called out.
No answer.
Then he saw the note. Hell. A note was bad news. A note meant he'd been kissed off. Unless she'd run out to get bagels or something-but he didn't hold his breath.
He forced himself to read the damn note:
Hell. An
A note. A damn note.
He ought to be grateful, he thought as he dragged himself out of bed. He'd been wondering what came next, and she answered that question for him. Nothing. Their lovemaking had obviously had little impact on her. She expected them to just go about their lives as they had before.
Wasn't that what he wanted, too? Of course it was. No complications, no recriminations, no clinging female reading unintended meaning into every word, every gesture.
But, damn it, he'd wanted to make French toast for her.
Phoebe sat on her balcony, sipping coffee and reading the paper. Some appointment. But she'd thought it would sound nicer if she had an excuse for leaving in the middle of the night. Better if it didn't look like she was running scared.
And she was, she realized. She was downright terrified by what she'd done. She'd broken one of her unbreakable rules by sleeping with her boss. It might have felt right at the time, but now the regrets just piled one on top of the other.
What if they found it too uncomfortable to work together anymore? What if Rolland and Helen found out? She'd never be able to look them in the eye again. The warm, familial relationship they'd developed over the years would disintegrate. The Madisons might love her, but their first loyalty was to Wyatt, and they wouldn't be quick to forgive her if they perceived that she'd slighted him in any way.
She was grateful for only one thing. Since Wyatt had gone off on the tangent of believing she was spending her days at the university looking for potential husbands, he never got around to asking her the real reason she'd been at ASU.
Maybe he wouldn't.
The phone interrupted her grim musings. She'd left the balcony door open to bring some fresh air into her apartment, so all she had to do was step inside to grab the receiver. The thought briefly crossed her mind that Wyatt might be calling her, and a silly giddiness gripped her heart-until she realized it was her mother on the line.
'Addy. You didn't call me back,' Olga Phelps said in her odd accent, which held Danish overtones generously
