CHAPTER THREE
Paul couldn’t sleep, not with those provocative sounds emanating from Gabrielle’s room next door. Apparently she’d taken him at his word and had invited a date over on her very first night. So much for all of those self-righteous protests of hers.
In an attempt to give her some of the space she so obviously wanted, he’d spent the rest of the day away from the apartment. He’d hoped, on his return, that she would be settled in and that his own rampaging hormones would have quieted down. At first he’d been relieved that she was already in her room with the door closed. He wouldn’t have to put his libido to the test. Then, as he’d stripped off his shirt, he’d heard the soft music, the low, intimate murmur of voices. Something had knotted painfully inside him.
Retreating to the kitchen for a beer, he’d told himself it didn’t matter. Gabrielle Clayton was a roommate, a source of income. That was it. He had absolutely no personal interest in what she did with her evenings. He told himself it was good that he saw her for exactly the kind of woman she was from day one. He told himself to go to bed and forget all about her.
Fat chance!
He stared at the ceiling, his imagination running rampant. The messages it sent to his body were not restful. He flipped on his own radio, found a station playing quiet, soothing music…all about romance. Why didn’t somebody just play lullabies at night? He turned the dial and found a classical station. The music was soft and just as romantic, but at least there were no words. He closed his eyes, thought about the lulling rhythm of waves against the shore and felt the tension in his body begin to fade at last.
Then, just about the time he finally began to drift off, he heard the start of a rhythmic thumping from next door. He groaned and buried his head under a pillow. It didn’t shut out the music or the other far more tantalizing sound.
What in the hell was she doing in there? Never mind. He knew what she was doing. He could picture it all too vividly, her long legs sleek and bare, her golden hair spilling across the bed, her body slender and urgent.
He groaned and debated getting another beer. At this rate she’d drive him to alcoholism within a week. Telling himself it was his own fault was no comfort at all. Telling himself there was absolutely nothing he could do about it without seeming like a meddling, jealous jerk didn’t quiet his tightly strung nerves, either. Telling himself he could not possibly survive an entire night of this torture motivated him to get out of bed, yank on a pair of jogging shorts and risk humiliation by pounding on Gabrielle’s door. He acted quickly, before he could think about the consequences.
“Keep it down in there,” he yelled, then stomped back toward his own room.
With surprising speed for someone engaged in such heated activity, she flung her door open and stepped into the corridor. He hadn’t counted on that. It stopped him right in his tracks, unable to do any more than stare at her as his pulse throbbed. Her face was flushed, her hair mussed. Her chest was heaving. His entire body tightened in immediate response. Knocking on that door had been the second stupidest damn mistake of his entire life, topped only by inviting her to live here in the first place. If listening had been torment, witnessing her sensual arousal was pure agony.
“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I had no idea you could hear me. I didn’t even realize you’d come home.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said.
Apparently the sarcasm escaped her. She continued to regard him with wide, innocent eyes. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained, “so I had my radio on for a while, but it didn’t help. Then I got to thinking about how I’ve been missing so many aerobics classes and, since I couldn’t sleep anyway, I thought I’d just run through the exercises. I’m sorry if the tape woke you.”
As the significance of her explanation sank in, Paul felt his entire body go slack with relief. “Aerobics?” he said, hoping that the grin spreading across his face wasn’t nearly as silly as it felt. “That’s what you were doing in there?”
“Of course. What did you think?” Her eyes widened, then sparked with amusement. She bit back a chuckle. “You didn’t?”
He stared back indignantly, still fighting his own grin.
“You did, didn’t you? You thought I had someone in there.” Then she began laughing, the first genuine, honest emotion he’d ever seen from her. It was a glorious sound. She peeked at him and started chuckling all over again.
“Okay,” he grumbled. “So I got it wrong. Just go back to bed.”
She swallowed back another laugh with effort. “I told you. I can’t sleep.”
“Count sheep.”
“It doesn’t work.”
“Try reciting the names of all the states and their capitals.”
“I want to sleep, not test my memory. If I miss one, I’ll be up the rest of the night trying to remember it.”
“I’m sure the aerobics won’t help. Your blood’s probably pumping so fast right now, it’ll be hours before you settle down. Try some warm milk.”
“We don’t have any. We never did get to the store today.” She smiled at him enticingly. “Since you’re awake, too, we could play cards.”
“Bridge, I suppose?”
“Poker.”
He hesitated. The idea of playing poker with a half-dressed woman in the middle of the night held a certain appeal. Too much appeal. If he had a grain of sense, he’d go out for the blasted milk instead. “Do you have any cards?”
“Of course,” she said, going immediately to a box that had been carefully labeled with every item in it.
“That much organization is probably illegal. When
