The problem, she supposed, was that she hadn’t gone to bed yet.
She glanced across the hardwood floors to her bed, then looked away, blinking back the gritty feeling in her eyes. So what if she’d been awake for a while? She was driven to succeed. Her business was booming and she had a healthy bank balance to prove it.
Perhaps working for…she calculated the hours, then winced…forty-one hours straight was a bad thing. She skimmed her blue pencil across the page and silently acknowledged that forty-one hours was a bit too long. She needed sleep. Probably needed food too.
Pepper promised herself she’d get up and make something for breakfast in a moment. Right after she finished this next design. It was going to be brilliant, she thought. Adding a bit of flare, she turned the paper to add more color, another ruffle along the side of the skirt.
The knock on her door startled her. “I’m not here,” she whispered to herself and added a few more details and instructions.
Another knock. “Still not here,” she muttered, irritation rising over the creative imaginings going through her mind.
The knock came again, this time louder and with a bit of impatience.
“Fine!” she snapped, tossing her pencil down onto the desk.
“Ouch!” she cringed, standing up and stretching. But she ignored the twinges and creaks as she reluctantly made her way across the floor, her wool socks shuffling over the hardwood because the muscles in her legs weren’t cooperating very well.
Looking down at herself, Pepper noted that she was still wearing the pajamas that she’d pulled on yester…um…the day before yesterday. She hadn’t slept, so she hadn’t woken up. Her routine was to go for a long run right after she woke up in the morning, then shower, eat breakfast, and get to her drawing board during the morning hours. She’d then spend the afternoon sewing, or she’d take her designs, along with the used clothing, to her warehouse where her magnificent seamstresses would transform her designs into reality.
Lately, that routine had been somewhat altered. A necessary alteration to her normal routine, she reminded herself as her hand drifted down over her stomach, and she tied the soft robe, hiding the satin of her pajamas.
Standing beside the door, she waited. Something inside of her warned her not to open the door. She really didn’t want to see the person on the other side, she thought. Leaning her forehead against the door, she took a deep breath.
Another knock thundered through the wood and she jumped back. Glaring at the door, she contemplated not answering it.
“He’ll just break it down,” she muttered to herself. So instead of walking back to her drawing board, she jerked the door open.
Unfortunately, even knowing who would be standing on the other side of the door didn’t prepare her for the sight of Dimitri. Tall and handsome with dark eyes, tanned skin, and broad shoulders, he was…delicious, she thought.
“Too hungry,” she muttered as an excuse for why she’d thought “delicious”.
Dimitri stared down at Pepper, startled by her appearance. For a moment, he couldn’t move, so shocked at how his vital, amazing, vibrant Pepper Abbot looked. She was a mere shadow of herself.
When he’d first met her, Pepper would race to the door to greet him. After opening the door, she’d beam up at him, her enormous, blue eyes shining, and her mouth begging for kisses. But Pepper was too exuberant to wait for anything. Waiting for him to kiss her simply wasn’t her style, so she’d throw herself into his arms and almost climb up his body to kiss him.
Now, there were no shining eyes. There was no smile of greeting. And instead of the shockingly gorgeous outfits she’d designed, Pepper was dressed in a robe. Her feet covered in ugly wool socks and her hair, her beautiful, dark, mahogany hair was tied up into a knot on top of her head, thick locks falling down around her neck and shoulders. Even as he watched, she pushed those locks away, tucking them impotently behind her ears.
“Pepper,” he sighed, stepping through the doorway and wrapping his arms around her. She didn’t protest, he realized. Nor did she wrap her arms around his neck. She just…was.
“Pepper, you can’t go on like this,” he urged, sitting down on her purple, velvet couch. The couch she’d found at a yard sale and refurbished herself. It was stunning, with piping accents made from other materials and mismatched buttons on the tufting. It was so like Pepper…well, the old Pepper. He’d hated this sofa initially. But he loved it. He loved her, damn it!
Kissing the top of her head, he tried to infuse some of his strength into her. “What have you done to yourself?” he demanded.
For another moment, he felt her press herself against him and he closed his eyes, savoring the need he felt in her. For him, he thought. And memories of their time together flashed back into his mind. Memories of her curling into him at night, kissing him awake so that they could sit outside and watch the sun rise. Or…hell, there seemed to be a million small memories and yet, they’d had such a short period of time together before that bastard had devastated their lives.
Unfortunately, Pepper sniffed, then shifted away. “I’m fine,” she told him, even though it was obvious that she wasn’t. Not even a little.
“When was the last time you slept, love?” he asked, standing up and walking into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and cringed at the lack of food. “And when was the last time you ate something?”
He turned, watching Pepper’s hands flutter helplessly against the ties of her belt on her robe.
“You can’t remember, can you?” he asked. Dimitri slammed the door of the fridge closed, not worried that the contents would topple because there wasn’t anything
