taken.”
“Tell you what,” he said, reaching for the top button of his shirt and drawing her attention to the way his fingers worked so deftly, a reminder of how he’d worked her. “You go to bed over there. I’ll go to bed over here. If you have trouble sleeping because you’re cold, let me know. I’ll come over. I’ll stay between the sheet and the blanket. No tempting skin-to-skin contact.”
She shivered again because, no matter the lies she told herself, that was the very thing she wanted. Harry close, warm, holding her. “That might work. If I stay beneath the sheet and you stay on top.”
“And I keep my hands to myself.”
“Exactly,” she said, wondering if he believed those were her wishes or if he saw through the sham. And then as more and more of his chest came into view, she frowned. “Do you have pajamas?”
“I have jogging shorts. And a T-shirt.” Wearing a monumental smile, he let the shirt plackets dangle and reached for his cuffs. “Will that work?”
Why did he have to be so beautiful? Why did she have to suddenly be so weak? “Sure.”
“And you?”
She nodded. “I have pajamas.”
“Okay then.” He peeled off his shirt and sat on the end of the bed to get rid of his shoes and socks. “You take the bathroom first.”
She swore the man didn’t have a single roll of fat lapping over his belt when he sat. Unfair, unfair, unfair. “Let me get my things.”
She crossed the room to where she’d thrown her duffel bag into one of the sitting area’s overstuffed chairs. As she kicked off the expensive shoes, she wondered if she’d ever have occasion to wear them again.
Or if she’d want to wear them again when they would remind her forever not only of tonight’s failed venture, but of this man who was making her want him.
Shoving away the thought, she found her camo tank top and matching shorty bottoms. She wasn’t much for makeup and skin products, but she did dig out her face wash and hoped it would do the job on the salon’s studio paint job.
Taking down her hair was going to be another hassle, one she wasn’t used to messing with. She found her hairbrush, her toothbrush, and then nearly dropped everything when she began to tremble.
What in the world was she doing even thinking about sleep with Finn in so much danger? If anything happened to him because of her stupid obsession, with her need to prove their father’s innocence…
Dear God, she would never forgive herself. Both of her parents were gone. Finn was all she had, and she’d selfishly dragged him into the middle of what was beginning to feel like her own private breakdown.
“Georgia?”
She startled, turned, clutching her things to her chest. “Sorry. I was thinking about…stuff.”
Harry handed her a hanger. “For the dress. It’s recommended you don’t toss it in a corner or store it in a duffel bag.”
She grabbed the hanger and stuck out her tongue as she pushed past him on her way to the bathroom. Once there, she slipped off the dress and hooked the frame of the hotel room hanger on the back of the door.
Naked and mindful of where Harry’s hand had been earlier, she pulled on the shorty pj set. What she needed was head-to-toe wool. Her nipples stood out like twin peaks, and her arms were pale, pebbled, the hair ruffled on end.
She turned on the faucet and let the warm water run over her wrists, finally sudsing up a dollop of face wash and scrubbing away the evening’s paint. She brushed her teeth, dried her mouth and face, then tackled her hair.
She took too long doing all of it, but there was a part of her that just didn’t know how smart it was to spend the night wearing shorty pajamas while in the same room with Harry van Zandt.
She’d let him bring her off in a public place, for crying out loud. And now she thought she was going to be able to lie quietly in a bed separated from his by nothing but a nightstand and a six-foot expanse of plush carpet?
Still, she couldn’t stay
“Tell you what,” he said, reaching for the top button of his shirt and drawing her attention to the way his fingers worked so deftly, a reminder of how he’d worked her. “You go to bed over there. I’ll go to bed over here. If you have trouble sleeping because you’re cold, let me know. I’ll come over. I’ll stay between the sheet and the blanket. No tempting skin-to-skin contact.”
She shivered again because, no matter the lies she told herself, that was the very thing she wanted. Harry close, warm, holding her. “That might work. If I stay beneath the sheet and you stay on top.”
“And I keep my hands to myself.”
“Exactly,” she said, wondering if he believed those were her wishes or if he saw through the sham. And then as more and more of his chest came into view, she frowned. “Do you have pajamas?”
“I have jogging shorts. And a T-shirt.” Wearing a monumental smile, he let the shirt plackets dangle and reached for his cuffs. “Will that work?”
Why did he have to be so beautiful? Why did she have to suddenly be so weak? “Sure.”
“And you?”
She nodded. “I have pajamas.”
“Okay then.” He peeled off his shirt and sat on the end of the bed to get rid of his shoes and socks. “You take the bathroom first.”
She swore the man didn’t have a single roll of fat lapping over his belt when he sat. Unfair, unfair, unfair. “Let me get my things.”
She crossed the room to where she’d thrown her duffel bag into one of the sitting area’s overstuffed chairs. As she kicked off the expensive shoes, she wondered if she’d ever have occasion to wear them again.
Or if she’d want to wear them again when they would remind her forever not only of tonight’s failed venture, but of this man who was making her want him.
Shoving away the thought, she found her camo tank top and matching shorty bottoms. She wasn’t much for makeup and skin products, but she did dig out her face wash and hoped it would do the job on the salon’s studio paint job.
Taking down her hair was going to be another hassle, one she wasn’t used to messing with. She found her hairbrush, her toothbrush, and then nearly dropped everything when she began to tremble.
What in the world was she doing even thinking about sleep with Finn in so much danger? If anything happened to him because of her stupid obsession, with her need to prove their father’s innocence…
Dear God, she would never forgive herself. Both of her parents were gone. Finn was all she had, and she’d selfishly dragged him into the middle of what was beginning to feel like her own private breakdown.
“Georgia?”
She startled, turned, clutching her things to her chest. “Sorry. I was thinking about…stuff.”
Harry handed her a hanger. “For the dress. It’s recommended you don’t toss it in a corner or store it in a duffel bag.”
She grabbed the hanger and stuck out her tongue as she pushed past him on her way to the bathroom. Once there, she slipped off the dress and hooked the frame of the hotel room hanger on the back of the door.
Naked and mindful of where Harry’s hand had been earlier, she pulled on the shorty pj set. What she needed was head-to-toe wool. Her nipples stood out like twin peaks, and her arms were pale, pebbled, the hair ruffled on end.
She turned on the faucet and let the warm water run over her wrists, finally sudsing up a dollop of face wash and scrubbing away the evening’s paint. She brushed her teeth, dried her mouth and face, then tackled her hair.
She took too long doing all of it, but there was a part of her that just didn’t know how smart it was to spend the night wearing shorty pajamas while in the same room with Harry van Zandt.
She’d let him bring her off in a public place, for crying out loud. And now she thought she was going to be able to lie quietly in a bed separated from his by nothing but a nightstand and a six-foot expanse of plush carpet?
Still, she couldn’t stay
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