Mary flopped over in bed and pushed the covers and blankets off with her feet. Half-asleep, she splayed her legs out to try to cool down.
Damn it, had she left the thermostat on too high—
Horrible suspicion shot her into consciousness, her mind coming to attention on a wave of dread.
Low-grade fever. She had a low-grade fever.
Oh, hell
... She knew the feel of it too well, the flush, the dry heat, the joint aches. And the clock said 4:18 A.M. Which, when she'd been sick before, was about the time her temperature liked to flare up.
Reaching overhead, she cracked open the window behind her bed. Cold air took the invitation to heart and rushed inside, cooling her, calming her. The fever broke soon afterward, a sheen of sweat announcing its retreat.
Maybe she was just coming down with a cold. People with her medical history did get normal sicknesses like the rest of the world. Really.
Except either way, rhinovirus or recurrence, there'd be no going back to sleep. She pulled a fleece on over her T-shirt and boxers and went downstairs. On her way to the kitchen, she turned on every light switch she passed until all the dark corners in the house were illuminated.
Destination: her coffeepot. There was no question that answering some office e-mail and getting ready for the break of the Columbus Day long weekend was better than lying in bed and counting the time before her doctor's appointment.
Which was in five and a half hours, by the way.
God, she hated the waiting.
She filled the Krups machine with water and went into the cupboard for the coffee can. It was nearly empty, so she took out her backup supply and the handheld can opener and—
She was not alone.
Mary leaned forward, looking out the window above the sink. With no exterior lights on she couldn't see anything, so she went around to the slider and flipped the switch next to the door.
"Good Lord!"
A massive black shape was on the other side of the glass.
Mary scrambled for the phone, but stopped when she saw the flash of blond hair. Hal lifted his hand in greeting.
"Hey." His voice was muffled through the glass.
Mary wrapped her arms around her stomach. "What are you doing here?"
His wide shoulders shrugged. "Wanted to see you."
"Why? And why now?'
Another shrug. "Seemed like a good idea."
"Are you deranged?"
"Yes."
She almost smiled. And then reminded herself that she had no close neighbors and he was practically the size of her house.
"How did you find me?" Maybe Bella had told him where she lived.
"Can I come in? Or maybe you could come out, if you'd feel more comfortable that way?"
"Hal, it's four thirty in the morning."
"I know. But you're awake and so am I."
God, he was so big in all that black leather, and with his face mostly in shadow he was more menacing than beautiful.
And she was actually considering opening the door? Clearly she was also deranged.
"Look, Hal, I don't think it's a good idea."
He stared at her through the glass. "Maybe we can just talk this way, then?"
Mary stared at him, dumbfounded. The guy was willing to hang around, locked out of her house like a criminal, just so they could chat?
"Hal, no offense, but there are about a hundred thousand women in this zip code who would not only let you into their homes, but would take you to bed. Why don't you go find one of them and leave me alone?"
"They aren't you."
The darkness falling across his face made his eyes impossible to read. But his tone of voice was so damn sincere.
In the long pause that followed, she tried to convince herself not to let him inside. "Mary, if I wanted to hurt you, I could do it in an instant. You could lock every door and every window and I'd still get inside. All I want is… to talk to you some more."
She eyed the width of his shoulders. He had a point about the breaking and entering. And she had a feeling that if she told him the best she could do was a closed door between them, he would pull up one of her lawn chairs and sit down on the terrace.
She unlatched the slider, opened it, and stepped back. "Just explain something to me."
He smiled tightly as he came in. "Shoot."
"Why aren't you with a woman who wants you?" Hal flinched. "What I mean is, those women tonight at the restaurant, they were all over you. Why aren't you having—"
crazy hot sex
—"er… fun with one of them?"
"I'd rather be here talking with you than inside one of those females."
She recoiled a little at his candor, and then realized he wasn't being crude, just bluntly honest
Well, at least she had one thing right: When he'd walked away after that soft kiss, she'd assumed it was because he hadn't felt any heat Evidently she'd hit the nail on the head. He wasn't here for sex, and she told herself it was good he didn't lust after her. Almost believed it, too.
"I was about to make some coffee, would you like some?"
He nodded and started wandering around the living room, taking note of her things. Against all of her white furniture and cream walls, his black clothes and heavy build were ominous, but then she looked at his face. He was wearing a silly little grin, as if he were happy just to be inside her house. Kind of like an animal who'd been chained in the yard and finally allowed indoors.
"You want to take off your coat?" she said.
He slid the leather from his shoulders and tossed it over to her sofa. The thing landed with a dull thump, crushing the cushions.
What the hell was in those pockets
? she wondered.
But then she looked at his body and forgot all about the stupid coat. He was wearing a black T-shirt that showed off a powerful set of arms. His chest was wide and well defined, his stomach tight enough so she could see his six-pack even through the shirt. His legs were long, his thighs thick—
"Do you like what you see?" he asked in a low, quiet voice.
Yeah, right
. She was
so
not answering that one.
She headed for the kitchen. "How strong do you like your coffee?"
Picking up the can opener, she pierced the Hills Bros lid and started cranking like there was no tomorrow. The top fell loose into the grounds and she reached inside to pick it out.
"I asked you a question," he said, right next to her ear. She jerked and sliced her thumb open on the metal. With a groan, she brought her hand up and looked at the cut. It was deep, bleeding.
Hal cursed. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"I'll live."
She turned on the faucet, but before she could get her hand under the rush he gripped her wrist.
"Let me see." Without giving her a chance to protest, he bent down over her finger. "That's a bad one."
He put her thumb in his mouth and sucked gently.
Mary gasped. The warm, wet, pulling sensation paralyzed her. And then she felt the sweep of his tongue. When he released her, she could only stare at him.
"Oh… Mary," he said sadly.
She was too shocked to wonder about his change of mood. "You shouldn't have done that."
"Why?"
Because it felt so good. "How do you know I don't have HIV or something?"
His shoulders lifted. "Wouldn't matter if you did."
She paled, thinking he was positive and she'd just let him put an open cut into his mouth.
"And no, Mary, I don't have the disease."
"Then why wouldn't it—"
"I just wanted to make it better. See? No more bleeding."
She looked down at her thumb. The cut was sealed up. Partially healed.
How the hell
—
"Now are you going to answer me?" Hal said, as if deliberately cutting off the questions she was about to ask.
As she glanced up, she noticed his eyes were doing that glow thing, the teal blue taking on an otherworldly, hypnotic sheen.
"What was the question?" she murmured.
"Does my body please you?"
She tightened her lips. Man, if he got off on hearing women say he was beautiful, he was going home disappointed.
"And what would you do if it didn't?" she shot back. "I would cover myself."
"Yeah, right."
He cocked his head to the side, as if thinking he'd read her wrong. Then he headed out to the living room where his coat was.
Good lord, he was serious.
"Hal, come back. You don't have to… I, ah, I like your body just fine."
He smiled as he returned to her. "I'm glad. I want to please you."
Fine, dandy
, she thought.
Then lose the shirt, peel off those leather pants, and lie down on my tile. We'll take turns being on the bottom
.
Cursing herself, she went back to making the coffee. As she spooned grounds into the machine, she could feel Hal looking at her. And hear him take deep breaths, as if he were smelling her. And sensed he was… inching nearer all the time.
The forerunners of panic threaded through her body. He was too close. Too big. Too… beautiful. And the heat and lust he called out of her were too powerful.
When the pot was on, she backed away from him.
"Why don't you want me to please you?" he said.
"Stop using that word." Because when he said
please
, all she could think about was sex.
"Mary." His voice was deep, resonant. Penetrating. "I want to—"
She covered her ears. Suddenly there was way too much of him in her house. In her head.
"This was a bad idea. I think you should go."
She felt a big hand land lightly on her shoulder.
Mary stepped out of his reach, choking up. He was health and vitality and raw sex and a hundred other things she couldn't have. He was so totally alive, and she was… most likely sick again.
Mary went over to the slider and opened it. "Leave, okay? Please just leave."
"I don't want to."
"Get out.
Please
." But he merely stared at her. "Christ, you're like a stray dog I can't get rid of. Why don't you go pester someone else?"
Hal's powerful body stiffened. For a moment it seemed like he was going to say something harsh, but then he picked up his coat. As he swung the leather around his shoulders and went for the door, he didn't look at her.
Oh, great
. Now she felt awful.
"Hal. Hal, wait." She grabbed his hand. "I'm sorry. Hal—"
"Don't call me that," he snapped.
When he shrugged off her grip, she stepped in his way. And really wished she hadn't. His eyes were utterly cold. Chips of aqua-colored glass.
The words he spoke were sharp-edged. "I'm sorry I offended you. I can imagine it's a big goddamned burden to have someone want to get to know you."
"Hal—"
He pushed her aside easily. "You say that one more time and I'm going to put a fist through the wall."
He strode outside, walking into the woods that ran down the left edge of her property.
On impulse, Mary shoved her feet into a pair of running shoes, grabbed a jacket, and shot through the slider. She ran across the lawn, calling out for him. When she got to the forest's edge, she paused.
There were no branches snapping, no twigs cracking, no sounds of a big man walking. But he'd gone in this direction. Hadn't he?
"Hal?" she called out. It was a long while before she turned and went back inside.
Chapter Fifteen
