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She tilted her head and checked him out. Was this the traveling man? What had Milly said his name was?
Blaine rubbed her itchy eyes as more hot, fuzzy memories of lusty sex coalesced in her mind. She dropped her hands and stared at the guy…the guy she’d…noooo, impossible. I’m a practical, hardworking rule follower—I’m the last person to have hot sex with a stranger!
That was the kind of thing her sister Sonja might have done, but never Blaine. No, Blaine was the one to whom Sonja made such confessions, not the one who committed the deeds. And Sonja had confessed some doozies to her big sis Blaine, who tried to listen with a straight face and an open mind while also amazed at what two people could do with too much time, and lust, on their hands.
And now Blaine had joined this too-much-time, overlusted segment of society.
She frowned. What exactly had they done?
More memories. Sweat-drenched bodies and a moment of pleasure so intense, so exquisite…
She wiped her suddenly shaky hand across her moist brow. Those memories were too real. They must have done exactly what she feared they’d done.
And it all happened on her wedding gift to her sister.
Blaine shut her eyes, giving her head a shake. Forget the bed, you have bigger issues to deal with. You don’t even know this guy’s history, much less his sexual history.
How many times had she counseled Sonja on this very subject. Badgered her about using protection.
Okay, I need to figure out who this guy is, make sure he’s…healthy, then get this damn bed moved.
Blaine did an inventory of her mystery lover. Thick brown hair that curled at his temples and neck.
She tugged mindlessly at her own shoulder-length hair. Wonder if he doesn’t have enough money for a haircut these days, either.
His eyes were closed, which accentuated the fringe of thick lashes that skirted his lids. Coarse brown stubble roughened the lower half of his face.
And what a face.
Square, solid, with a chin that jutted forward slightly even as he slept. As though on guard, ready to take life on the chin. A tough guy. Funny, though, how he slept with his hands clenched into tight balls, as though he were protecting something. What? From what she’d seen of his place, he owned next to nothing. Maybe he was protecting something deep inside himself. A secret.
Her gaze swept back over him. He was tall, if she judged the way his head touched one end of the mattress and his feet almost dangled off the other.
She perused him head to foot again, stopping in the middle…Maybe this was crass, but she wanted a good look for herself, ensure that he looked healthy before she woke him up and asked him if he was.
He looked good. Very good. Normal. No, better than normal, but that wasn’t what she was supposed to be checking.
She released a pent-up breath.
But she’d have to be blind not to notice.
Even asleep, with his body relaxed, he was big. Not that she was a size expert, unless intimate relationships with four different men—well, technically three—made one an expert. Which, at thirty years of age, was an embarrassing admission.
“What are you staring at?” asked a gruff, irritated male voice.
Donovan blinked at the naked woman, who slowly raised her head and stared, wide-eyed, her green eyes nearly translucent in a slant of bright yellow sunlight. It reminded him of the way sunlight filtered through the aquamarine waters in the Caribbean. The rays sliced through those shimmering blue waters, revealing every nuance of life.
She quickly crossed her arms so they covered her breasts—but not before he’d seen their full, pink-tipped beauty. A memory seared through his mind, then faded.
Her mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “I’m…I’m…” Suddenly, she dropped back her head, then jerked forward with an ear-numbing sneeze.
He shut his eyes. Gave his head a shake.
He’d woken up bone weary plenty of times before, but it’d been years since he’d woken up with a woman he didn’t even recognize.
And of the two or three fair members of the opposite sex with whom he had woken up and not remembered, this was the first who’d checked out his privates, then sneezed.
He’d try not to read too much into that.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, then squinted open one eye. Coffee. He needed coffee.
He glanced up. She stood there, cross-armed and wide-eyed. As though she were standing at attention.
“What are you doing?” he croaked.
She shrugged. “Waitink…” She coughed, then cleared her throat. “Waiting for you to wake up,” she answered, enunciating each word.
“Well, I’m up.” Barely. He never dealt with the world, especially the people in it, until after he’d had his jolt of caffeine. The opposite of this lady, it appeared, who bounded out of bed and observed the world—and those still sleeping in it—with big, disarming green eyes.
With great effort, he propped himself on his elbow, determined not be amused by this quirky situation. He still wasn’t sure what he was dealing with, but whatever it was, he’d keep his cool until he understood the situation, which was a one-eighty turn from the younger, hotheaded Donovan.
“You sick?” he asked.
“Allergies.”
Naked. Wild auburn hair. Allergies.
And, he thought with an inward smile, impossibly cute.
But nothing clicked. Not a single detail, and he a man who earned good money thanks to his affinity for details. Couldn’t analyze a computer failure unless one had a head for bits and bytes.
And nibbles. Another flash of memory. His lips on her flesh, nibbling.
He squinted one eye at her. For the life of him, he was clueless to identify this emerald-eyed, allergy-ridden woman who stood naked before him.
And if he couldn’t identify her, could he identify where the hell they were?
He jerked his head around.
He was in some fancy brass bed, for starters. He glanced around the room. White, nondescript walls. And his plant.
He frowned and looked up at the slatted blinds, with the missing fourth slat that always looked like a missing tooth. And that’s my window. He shifted his gaze back to the intruder.
“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” Okay, so much for keeping his cool. This was his turf. Different rules altogether. Nobody entered his domain, ever, without his permission. Maybe he’d lost a lot in the world, but he still owned his privacy.
Without moving her strategically placed arms, she managed to point a forefinger at the bed. “This belongth to me.”
He paused, unprepared for that curve ball. “This…bed,” he repeated slowly.
She nodded.
“This bed that’s in my bedroom.”
She nodded, her eyes widening.
He should count to ten. “Tell me.” One, two, three. “How the hell did your bed get into my bedroom?”
“Rawlf,” she whispered, followed by a cough.
His gaze slid down, over her arms—for a compact type, she’s got some biceps— down to her belly button, which is where the mattress cut off his view. Nothing looked familiar, yet heated memories of satiny skin and soft breasts ricocheted through his mind.
Had they…?
He glanced down. He was naked, too. Not that he really gave a damn. Growing up on a ranch with three older, rowdy brothers had permanently eradicated his shy gene.
But considering he was naked, and she was naked…
He cocked an eyebrow and shot her a look. He caught her scent. Sweet, like almonds. That little detail sizzled through his brain, triggering other memories. The taste of her lips. Her lusty moan.
Details…small details taunted his memory. If he didn’t need the money so bad, he’d blow off future back-to-back business trips. Because to forget what you experienced with a woman had to be one sorry statement for a man’s life.
First things first. “Where’s my bed?”
Her plump little lips opened into a little O—and remained stuck in that position. Finally, she blurted, “Your bed?”
Back in college, this would have been one of his buddies’ tricks. Plant a naked woman and a strange bed in good ol’ Donnie’s room. But he didn’t have buddies like that anymore. Had no buddies, actually, unless he counted Bill, the bartender at The Keg.
“My bed. Wooden. Plain.” He’d never described his bed before, just slept in it. It was comfortable, cheap…and up until last night, reliable.
She wriggled her nose, as though she were going to sneeze again, then pursed her lips and appeared to hold her breath for a long moment. Finally, she released her breath in a whoosh, looking relieved. “Don’t know.”
He nodded. Forget the coffee, I’ll just go straight for the vodka. But despite the insanity of the situation, he detected a logical thread. “Did Rawlf take it?”
She cleared her throat. “R-A-L-P-H,” she spelled.
“Oh, Ralph.” It was hard to stay ticked listening to such a cute, stuffed-up nose. Attached to such a cute, compact body. He rubbed his bottom lip, trying not to smile. “So did, uh, Ralph take it?”
“Prob’bly,” she answered.
Donovan dragged his hands through his hair, blew out a gust of air, then shoved himself across the bed. He swung his legs over and stood in front of Ms. Big Green Eyes. Her female scent wove around him, drugging him with more eerily familiar sensations of heat and sin….
He gave his head a shake, forcing his thoughts to stay focused on the problem at hand.
Although part of him didn’t feel this was such a big problem anymore. Hell, it’d been so long since he’d had fun, he almost didn’t recognize the feeling. It was almost like being the old Donnie again, enjoying the moment, feeling alive….
“I take it Ralph then delivered this bed and picked up my bed—although you’re still a big question mark.” He stepped closer.
Her green eyes darkened, as though a shadow had passed over a sparkling sea. And in that moment, he realized this woman was nervous about whatever had happened between them. Not shy-nervous, but anxious-nervous as though she was in way over her head. To look at her strong little body, she appeared to be a woman who could handle anything.
But that look in her eyes betrayed a fragility.
The realization stabbed him, right to the core of a memory he wished he could forget. He knew how people could appear strong, yet be so fragile that when they shattered, pieces of their life splintered far and wide, some never to be found again.
“I guess Milly can fill in the details,” he said quietly. Only his neighbor Milly could have let these people in. And she would have had a good reason. Yeah, she’d explain everything…except why and how this woman got naked…
Another steamy memory burned through his brain. Too real, too hot to be merely a dream. He reached over and touched the woman’s hair. The silky strands fell through his fingers…a sensation he recalled from last night…
“Did we—?” he asked. “Are we—?”
Her eyes moistened as though she couldn’t contain her feelings any longer. She nodded, her chin trembling.
“We’re…we’re…” A tear spilled down her cheek. “…lubbers.”
3
“LUBBERS?” DONOVAN ASKED, cocking an eyebrow.
She swallowed, hard. “Lubbers,” she said slowly.
He noticed she was breathing through her mouth. Allergies. Then it hit him. “Lovers,” he repeated slowly.
She closed and opened her eyes, then nodded sadly.
Was I that bad? Maybe he hadn’t been with a woman in a while—okay, months—but that didn’t mean he’d lost his touch. Hey, once you learned how to ride a bike, you never forgot, right?
Which somebody needed to remind this lady.
“Let’s get dressed,” he growled, turning around, “then discuss this bed situation.”
She coughed. “Question.”
He paused. “What?”
“Are you…healthy?”
“What?” Coffee. Black, hot, now.
“Healthy.” She coughed again. “You know, no diseases or anyting.”
Then it dawned on him what she meant. They hadn’t used…damn, he never did that. If he hadn’t been so exhausted.
“I’m healthy. Just had my annual. I’m a hundred percent.” He paused. “You?” After all, he should ask, too.
She snorted. “Very, very healthy.” She coughed.
“For the record, except for last night, I always use protection with a woman. I don’t know what happened…” It was the truth. Honest to God, he thought it was a dream.
“I don’t know what happened, either.”
