Beneath the Silk by Wendy Rosnau Page B

Jackson’s long stride.
    * * *
    Jackson unlocked the apartment after setting Sunni on her feet. He pocketed the key, shoved the door open, then once more lifted her. “Arms around my neck,” he instructed again.
    “Wait. No, you don’t have to… Really I’m fine.”
    “You’re not fine. Besides, why walk when you can ride?”
    He swept her through the door and kicked it shut behind him. He was about to flick on the light when he remembered the busted lamp that used to sit behind one of the sofas. Tomorrow would be soon enough to explain about the lamp, he decided, then started down the dark hall to her bedroom.
    She had scared the hell out of him when she’d called from the hospital. He’d worried all the way over in the cab. And he’d nearly taken off the receptionist’s head at the front desk when she’d directed him to the emergency department.
    “I can walk now,” she whispered against his cheek. Her fingers were laced around his neck, her touch doing crazy things to his insides.
    “You don’t need to spend the energy. I’ll be your legs tonight.”
    Relying on the small security light on the terrace, Jackson walked into her bedroom without mishap and made his way to her bed in the center of the room. He laid her down, and on hearing her moan, said, “Sorry, Sis.”
    “Don’t be. This wasn’t your fault.”
    “Wasn’t it?” Jackson jaw jerked as he sat down beside her.
    “Don’t do the guilt thing, okay? You’re suppose to be a snake with no morals, remember?”
    “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
    “You can’t be with me every minute.”
    That was where she was wrong. But Jackson kept his thoughts to himself as he reached for the light next to the bed and turned it on. As he glanced around the room, the first thing he noticed was the massive iron canopy overhead and the sheer curtains at each corner, then how beautiful and sexy Sunni Blais looked lying on the pale green comforter.
    The walls had been washed with a textured colorless paint. The main color in the room was a pale green. White roses in a tall vase were reflected in the mirror on the vanity. The carpet was as pale as the walls and the painted iron bed. A paneled mirror along an entire wall doubled as doors to what must be her closet. Like the one that encompassed the ceiling inside her shower in the bathroom, this mirror captured the bed like a wide-angle camera lens.
    Jackson had never been so aware or so affected by a woman, or her sexuality, before he’d met Sunni Blais. The truth was his senses had sharpened in all directions where she was concerned. And everything about her turned him on—her body, the smell of her skin, her husky voice, her slippery clothes, her home full of mirrors.
    He stood and removed her silver shoes. “You missed dinner, right?”
    “No. I had a sandwich brought into my office around five. I don’t usually do that but… Well, I just felt hungry. But not now.”
    “I’m going to have to call your father.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t. He’s supposed to leave the hospital in a few days. This could set him back.”
    “Keeping secrets isn’t a good idea, Sis.”
    “Sometimes it’s better than the truth. In this case, I know I’m right.” She winced as she tried to sit up.
    “Don’t move. You don’t have a reason to get up. I’m your legs tonight, remember? What do you need?”
    “I need to call Mary.” She sank back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “I want to tell her I won’t be in to work tomorrow until afternoon.”
    “I’ll call.” Jackson rounded the bed. “But I’ll tell her you’re not coming in for at least two days. Maybe three.”
    Her pretty gray eyes popped open. “I have to work.”
    “Mary’s more than capable of running the store. I’ll keep an eye on her for you. Here, let me help you out of your clothes.”
    He reached out to slip open the top button on her jacket, but she stopped him by grabbing his hand. “I can manage.”
    “Come on,