As he gestured to the corner where the clean-clothes pile was, Sissy stepped inside and stayed where she was. “I wasn’t…”
She cleared her throat.
Oh, right. This actually wasn’t about any kind of body-heat issue. She didn’t know how to properly take back what had happened out there—and yeah, he knew what that felt like.
“You don’t have to say it,” he murmured.
“Really?”
“Nah.”
“Oh, good.” She shut the door. “I’m glad.”
Jim frowned as he heard her closing in on the bed … and then the mattress dipped under her slight weight. “What are you—”
“I’m cold. I’m so … cold, Jim. I just need … to be warm.”
Jim felt his eyes bulge, but there was no time to react beyond that: Before he knew what was happening, she had stretched out next to him and curled up into his chest.
“Just … put your arms around me for a little bit. I need it so badly.”
Her voice was tortured, sadness and exhaustion cracking it. But this was a serious no-go.
Holding his arms out to the sides as far as he could stretch them, he shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. “Sissy …” His voice was rough to his own ears. “You can’t … no, this isn’t right.”
“Why?” Her voice deepened, reminding him yet again that she was not who she had been. “I’m not asking for sex.”
Jim recoiled, shocked by the candor. But he believed her on that one. The issue was him. Plus, oh, heeeeeey, he was naked.
“Please,” she said. “I feel lost. So lost, like I’m going to float away. And there’s nothing holding me here … just let me stay the night. I promise I won’t bother you.”
Not likely on that one, he thought.
Except he wasn’t going to turn her away. He couldn’t.
Pushing himself to the far edge of the mattress, he mummied himself in the sheeting. “I’ll…”
What, he thought. Tell her he was going to keep his hands off of her? He didn’t want her to know he’d even gone
“Come here,” he muttered.
Sissy came in close again, once more snuggling up against his chest, but this time she took it even further— she tucked her arms in between them, and put her head under his chin.
The rough sigh she let out was such a commentary on where she was that he wanted to kick his own ass for getting tangled in the head for even a second about any attraction bullcrap.
She was lost, and he was, for the time being, her imperfect anchor.
Made him wish he were a better man; it really did.
With some stiff herky-jerky, he adjusted himself to her position, but he didn’t touch her and kept his hips way back. There was still a lot of skin exposed on his part, but she didn’t seem to notice.
He was all too aware of it.
God, she was so small against him—not because she was short, but rather because he had, what, almost a hundred pounds on her?
She smelled so good. Not fake perfume-y, just lovely, beautiful, fragile woman. And the fit with her was perfect, as if their bodies had been made for each other.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Jim squeezed his eyes shut. Then he gently put an arm around her, holding her very loosely. As she shuddered and inched in still closer, he realized that she wasn’t the only one who needed warmth. He did, too.
Had for a long time, actually.
After a while, Sissy’s breathing became deep and even, and with her safe, he let himself follow her lead. The war was still going on; Devina was out there and so was the soul; time was passing.
But in this room … there was peace—and he was hard-pressed to say that he and Sissy didn’t deserve it, at least for a little while.
Chapter
Twenty-three
Talk about your one-eighties.
As Cait sat at her desk and stared out at the overcast, gloomy morning, she was a shadow of yesterday’s productive artist: She’d been sitting here, staring at a blank page for well over an hour. And this was after she’d slept through her alarm, and then wasted another twenty minutes just lying in bed and enjoying the aching stiffness that lingered in her legs … and various other places—
Cait slammed her hand over her cell phone, grabbing it and turning the thing over. Local area code. Local exchange. This could be—
“Hello?” she said breathlessly.
“Hi, this is Cindy over at…”
As Cindy from Cindy’s Alterations and More informed her that the suit, pants, and two skirts she’d had taken in were ready, Cait wanted to scream. Instead, she led with, “Oh, thank you. Yes, I’ll be over to pick them up today, or tomorrow at the latest.”
Hanging up, she knew that waiting for a maybe-never phone call from Duke was not helping her workload. But it was impossible not to jump anytime that phone rang—which had been, like, twelve times. For whatever reason, anyone she’d dialed recently or contracted for work was getting back to her this morning.
Not Duke, though.
And perhaps it was a good idea to point out to herself that he might never call. Given that she’d only left him, what, seven hours ago, it was way too early to give up hope, but still. He wouldn’t have been the first man to take a number in postcoital bliss, only to have his head clear later and realize the woman wasn’t his type.
He hadn’t even written her digits down.
This time Cait didn’t bother to check her screen. It was probably her accountant calling about taxes. Or a neighbor telling her they were putting on a back porch and going to be working right next to her office for the next twelve weeks. Or Flo from Progressive. The frickin’ gecko from GEICO.
“Hello.”
“I thought about you all night long.”
Bolting to attention, Cait gripped her phone as the rough male voice shot into her ear and went right through her body.
“Hello?” Duke said.
Oh, right, she was supposed to purr something in exchange. “Ah, hi.”
Wow. She was a real Angelina Jolie over here.
“I want to see you.”
“Where?” Two could play the straight-up game.
“I have the night off. Dinner—the Riverside Diner. Six.”
Cait started to smile so wide her cheeks hurt. “Dinner, huh?”
“I have fairly good table manners. And I figure, since what we’re doing isn’t your style, it might make you feel more comfortable.”
The words were gruff, and the thoughtfulness a surprise—and probably because of both, she was especially
