Sweet Dreams (A Sugar Rush Novel) by Nina Lane Page B

like a baby.”
    Polly had never heard a man actually growl before, but she was pretty sure that’s what Luke did.
    He stabbed his finger at the door. “Guest bathroom down the hall has soap, towels, and toothbrushes.”
    He threw the sheets aside and stalked into the bathroom, shutting the door hard behind him.
    Okay, so he wasn’t a morning person.
    His mention of a bathroom made Polly aware of her bladder, so she hurried down the hall to wash up and brush her teeth. She wiggled out of her too-tight pantyhose and rolled it into a ball. She even looked well-rested, she thought, studying herself in the mirror as she tugged a silver comb through her tangled hair.
    She left the bathroom and went downstairs to put her pantyhose in her purse. She retrieved her cell phone and checked in with Clementine, who had insisted on opening the bakery this morning after hearing about Polly’s date.
    “Just in case the date goes long,” Clementine had said cheerfully.
    Polly texted her that the date had, indeed, gone long , but due to the broken-down van and not other long . . . things.
    Whatever you say, dear, Clementine texted back.
    Polly rolled her eyes and headed back upstairs to talk to Luke about dealing with the van and getting home. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
    “Luke?” Alarmed, she hurried to his side. “Are you all right?”
    He looked up, his features still lined with fatigue. His hair was damp, and water trickled down his temples, like he’d dunked his head under the faucet.
    “Did something happen in Venezuela?” Polly asked.
    “Vene . . .” He shook his head. “No. Everything’s okay.”
    “I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well.” She brushed a drop of water off his neck. “It must have been because I was here.”
    “Yeah.” He sighed heavily and dragged a hand down his face. “It was because you were here.”
    Polly tried to deflect a stab of hurt, along with the question of whether he slept badly when he was with any woman or if it had just been her. She didn’t actually want the answer to either question, hating the reminder that he had lots of other women, not wanting to believe he could be uncomfortable with her.
    But if it was because of her . . .
    She stepped back and gestured to the bed. “Lie down on your stomach.”
    “What?”
    “Come on.” She pressed on his shoulder to get him to do her bidding. “Face down.”
    His eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he didn’t appear to have the energy to resist. He stretched out on the bed and pulled a pillow beneath his head.
    Polly’s nerves suddenly tightened as she tracked her gaze over his broad shoulders and back, the material of his T-shirt fitting him like a second skin, and down to his very firm rear.
    She took a breath, experiencing a sudden visceral memory of pressing herself against the front of his hard body. What would it feel like to press herself against the back of his hard body? Tingles like brightly colored sugar crystals surged through her.
    Come on, Polly. Focus.
    Luke had been very generous—and again, respectful—by letting her sleep in his bed and not once trying to touch her.
    Wait a second. Aside from the caress on her cheek, why hadn’t he touched her? He obviously knew she still wanted him. Any woman would. And Polly could only partially blame the alcohol for how she’d acted at the Troll’s House because on a deep, primal level she’d just desired the man. She’d known the second she saw him again at Sugar Rush that her attraction to him was still hot and electric.
    And given what he’d said about her hooking up with anyone but him . . .
    She shook her head to dislodge her musings. The past forty-eight hours had been very odd indeed, so it would be best if she stepped back and reexamined this whole situation later—like on a day when she hadn’t woken up in a bed that probably cost more than the whole Wild Child building.
    “Am I supposed to take a