about Daphne, but the surge of creativity she'd experienced that afternoon had vanished.
Roo snored softly at the foot of the bed. Molly told herself she was getting sleepy. She wasn't.
Maybe she could finish polishing her article, but as she made her way to the loft to get her laptop, she glanced into the guest bathroom. It had two doors-the one she was standing in and a second one across from it that led directly into the bedroom where he slept. That door was ajar.
Her restless, twitchy legs carried her onto the tile.
She saw a Louis Vuitton shaving kit sitting on the counter. She couldn't imagine Kevin buying it for himself, so it must have been a gift from one of his international beauties. She moved closer and saw a red toothbrush with crisp white bristles. He'd put the cap back on the tube of Aquafresh.
She brushed her fingertip over the lid of a column of deodorant, then reached for a frosted glass bottle of very expensive aftershave. She unscrewed the stopper and drew it to her nose. Did it smell like Kevin? He wasn't one of those men who drowned himself in cologne, and she hadn't gotten close enough to know for sure, but something familiar about the scent made her close her eyes and inhale more deeply. She shivered and set it down, then glanced into the open shaving kit.
Lying next to a bottle of ibuprofen and a tube of Neosporin was Kevin's Super Bowl ring. She knew he'd earned it in the early days of his career as Cal Bonner's backup. It surprised her to see a championship ring tossed so carelessly in the bottom of a shaving kit, but then everything she knew about Kevin said he wouldn't want to wear a ring that had been earned when someone else was in charge.
She began to move away, only to pause as she saw what else lay in the shaving kit.
A condom.
No big deal. Of course he'd carry condoms with him. He probably had a whole crate of them. She picked it up and studied it. It seemed to be an ordinary condom. So why was she staring at it?
This was insane! All day she'd been acting like a woman obsessed. If she didn't pull herself together, she'd be boiling a bunny just like crazy Glenn Close.
She winced.
One peek. That was it. She'd just take one peek at him sleeping and then she'd leave.
She moved toward the bedroom door and slowly pushed it open.
Chapter 3
Late that night Daphne sneaked into Benny's badger den with the scary Halloween mask fastened around her head…
A dim wedge of light from the hallway fell across the carpet. Molly could make out a large shape beneath the bedcovers. Her heart hammered with the excitement of the forbidden. She took a tentative step inside.
The same dangerous energy shot through her that she'd felt when she was seventeen, right before she'd pulled the fire alarm. She moved closer. Just one look and then she'd leave.
He lay on his side, turned away from her. The sound of his breathing was deep and slow. She remembered old Westerns where the gunslinger woke up at the slightest sound, and she envisioned a rumple-haired Kevin pointing a Colt.45 at her belly.
She'd pretend she was sleepwalking.
He'd left his shoes on the floor, and she pushed one of them aside with her foot. It made a slight rustle as it brushed over the carpet, but he didn't move. She pushed aside its mate, but he didn't react to that either. So much for the Colt.45.
Her palms grew damp. She rubbed them on her gown. Then she bumped ever so gently against the end of the bed.
He was dead to the world.
Now that she knew what he looked like asleep, she'd leave.
She tried to, but her feet took her to the other side of the bed instead, where she could see his face.
Andrew slept like this. Fireworks could explode next to her nephew, and he wouldn't stir. But Kevin Tucker didn't look at all like Andrew. She took in his amazing profile-strong forehead, angled cheekbones, and straight, perfectly proportioned nose. He was a football player, so he must have broken it a few times, but there was no bump.
This was a terrible invasion of his privacy. Inexcusable. But as she gazed down at his rumpled dark blond hair, she could barely resist brushing it back from his brow.
One perfectly sculpted shoulder rose above the covers. She wanted to lick it.
The condom was still in her hand and Kevin Tucker lay under the blankets-naked, if that bare shoulder was any indication. What if she crawled in with him?
It was unthinkable.
But who would know? He might not even wake up. And if he did? He'd be the last person to tell the world he'd been with the owner's oversexed sister.
Her heart was beating so fast she was lightheaded. Was she really thinking about doing this?
There'd be no emotional aftermath. How could there be when she didn't harbor even the illusion of a soul-deep love? As for what he'd think of her… He was used to having women throw themselves at him, so he'd hardly be surprised.
She could see the fire alarm hanging on the wall right in front of her, and she told herself not to touch it. But her hands tingled, and her breath came fast and shallow. She'd run out of willpower. She was tired of her restlessness, her twitchy feet. Tired of mutilating her hair because she didn't know how to fix herself. Fed up from too many years trying to be perfect. Her skin was damp with desire and a growing sense of horror as she watched herself slide off her bunny slippers.
But she didn't. And the fire alarm clanged in her head.
She reached for the hem of her nightgown… pulled it over her head… stood naked and trembling. Appalled, she watched her fingers curl around the covers and tug. Even as the blankets fell back, she told herself she wasn't going to do it. But her breasts were tingling, her body crying out with need.
She set her hip on the mattress, then slowly slipped her legs beneath the covers. Oh, God, she was really doing this. She was naked, and she'd climbed into bed with Kevin Tucker.
Who let out a soft snore and rolled over, taking most of the covers with him.
She stared at his back and knew she'd just been given a divine sign telling her to leave. She had to get out of his bed right this minute!
Instead, she curled around him, pressed her breasts against his back, breathed him in. There… that whiff of musky aftershave. It had been so long since she'd touched a man like this.
He stirred, shifted, muttered something as if he were dreaming.
The shriek of the fire alarm grew louder. She slid her arm around him and stroked his chest.
Only for a minute, she told herself. And then she'd leave.
Kevin felt his old girlfriend Katya's hand on his chest. He'd been standing in his garage with the first car he'd ever owned and Eric Clapton. Eric had been giving him a guitar lesson, but instead of a guitar, Kevin kept trying to play a leaf rake.
Then he looked up, and Eric was gone. He was in this weird log room with Katya.
She kept stroking his chest, and he realized that she was naked. He forgot about Eric's guitar lesson as blood rushed to his groin.
He'd broken it off with Katya months ago, but now he had to have her. She used to wear bad perfume. Too strong. It was a stupid reason to break up with a woman, because now she smelled like cinnamon rolls.
Good smell. Sexy smell. Made him sweat. He couldn't remember being this turned on by her when they were
