bed read three-thirty. They had three hours to sleep until his alarm went off, unless he woke a little earlier and woke her, too, so he could make love with her one more time.
Maybe that wasn’t such a hot idea.
Maybe he should have taken her to her apartment, instead of to his.
Maybe he’d regret her spending the night. Look at what had just happened with Elin. She’d spent a handful of nights here and decided it meant their relationship, if you could call it that, had turned serious.
Maybe…
Maybe what he needed was some sleep.
Lucas drew his beautiful translator closer. His eyelids drooped. He smiled a little, remembering that she didn’t like being called “Dani,” but she’d never told him what she preferred. Danielle? Was that her full name? Somehow, it didn’t suit her, either.
He’d find out in the morning.
He’d find out a lot of things in the morning.
The name she preferred. Her address. Her phone number. Because he wanted to see her again.
See
her, not turn this into anything exclusive, of course, although he wouldn’t want her seeing other men. He would not tolerate it. He needed his space. He needed his freedom. But—but—
But, he’d work it all out tomorrow. The only possible problem would be if she misinterpreted spending the night in his bed. Women did.
Lucas tumbled into sleep.
And when the alarm rang at six-thirty, there were no problems to work out because Dani Sinclair was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
C AROLINE came awake with a start.
In a movie, the heroine would have opened her eyes and come to a slow realization that she was not in her own bed. But this wasn’t a movie, it was real life and she knew instantly that she was in a stranger’s bed.
There was the enormous size of the bed itself. The faint predawn light, streaming through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The skylight overhead. The silk comforter.
Caroline shuddered.
Most of all, there was that hard, warm male body lying against hers, that tanned, muscular arm draped possessively around her waist.
Her heart bumped into her throat.
Scenes of the night flashed through her mind. Throwing herself into Lucas’s arms in his limo. Kissing him in the elevator.
Making love against the wall and then in this bed.
Except, it hadn’t been love, it had been sex. Trying to turn last night into something soft and romantic was like—like trying to pretend that Madame Bovary was Cinderella.
Useless, pointless, and that she had never done anything like this before, that she looked down on women who went in for hooking up—and that was what this had been, a hook-up, plain and simple—only made it more humiliating.
She’d gone to bed with a man she didn’t know and the only good part of it was that he was still asleep.
Sound asleep.
He lay sprawled on his belly, his head turned toward her on the pillow. The duvet had slipped to his waist. Caroline’s gaze moved over him.
Even in sleep, he was a magnificent sight.
All that dark, tousled hair. The thick, black lashes that curved against his cheek. The straight nose, sculpted mouth, the tiny dimple in that strong, assertive chin, even the morning stubble on his jaw, was beautiful and sexy.
The comforter was caught just at the base of his spine; she couldn’t see the rest of him but she knew, oh how well she knew, that his backside was tight, his legs long, just as she knew that if he rolled over, the rest of him was perfect.
Heat started at the tips of her toes, spread low in her belly, made her nipples tighten.
That’s it, Caroline. That’s just great. Lie here and turn yourself on, admiring your seducer instead of getting your butt out the door
…
Except, he hadn’t seduced her.
He had taken her in his arms and kissed her. That was all he’d done. The choices afterward had been hers. She could have pushed him away. Slapped his face. She could even have let the kiss happen and then ended it and walked away. Nobody had forced her into his car, against that
Maybe that wasn’t such a hot idea.
Maybe he should have taken her to her apartment, instead of to his.
Maybe he’d regret her spending the night. Look at what had just happened with Elin. She’d spent a handful of nights here and decided it meant their relationship, if you could call it that, had turned serious.
Maybe…
Maybe what he needed was some sleep.
Lucas drew his beautiful translator closer. His eyelids drooped. He smiled a little, remembering that she didn’t like being called “Dani,” but she’d never told him what she preferred. Danielle? Was that her full name? Somehow, it didn’t suit her, either.
He’d find out in the morning.
He’d find out a lot of things in the morning.
The name she preferred. Her address. Her phone number. Because he wanted to see her again.
See
her, not turn this into anything exclusive, of course, although he wouldn’t want her seeing other men. He would not tolerate it. He needed his space. He needed his freedom. But—but—
But, he’d work it all out tomorrow. The only possible problem would be if she misinterpreted spending the night in his bed. Women did.
Lucas tumbled into sleep.
And when the alarm rang at six-thirty, there were no problems to work out because Dani Sinclair was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
C AROLINE came awake with a start.
In a movie, the heroine would have opened her eyes and come to a slow realization that she was not in her own bed. But this wasn’t a movie, it was real life and she knew instantly that she was in a stranger’s bed.
There was the enormous size of the bed itself. The faint predawn light, streaming through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The skylight overhead. The silk comforter.
Caroline shuddered.
Most of all, there was that hard, warm male body lying against hers, that tanned, muscular arm draped possessively around her waist.
Her heart bumped into her throat.
Scenes of the night flashed through her mind. Throwing herself into Lucas’s arms in his limo. Kissing him in the elevator.
Making love against the wall and then in this bed.
Except, it hadn’t been love, it had been sex. Trying to turn last night into something soft and romantic was like—like trying to pretend that Madame Bovary was Cinderella.
Useless, pointless, and that she had never done anything like this before, that she looked down on women who went in for hooking up—and that was what this had been, a hook-up, plain and simple—only made it more humiliating.
She’d gone to bed with a man she didn’t know and the only good part of it was that he was still asleep.
Sound asleep.
He lay sprawled on his belly, his head turned toward her on the pillow. The duvet had slipped to his waist. Caroline’s gaze moved over him.
Even in sleep, he was a magnificent sight.
All that dark, tousled hair. The thick, black lashes that curved against his cheek. The straight nose, sculpted mouth, the tiny dimple in that strong, assertive chin, even the morning stubble on his jaw, was beautiful and sexy.
The comforter was caught just at the base of his spine; she couldn’t see the rest of him but she knew, oh how well she knew, that his backside was tight, his legs long, just as she knew that if he rolled over, the rest of him was perfect.
Heat started at the tips of her toes, spread low in her belly, made her nipples tighten.
That’s it, Caroline. That’s just great. Lie here and turn yourself on, admiring your seducer instead of getting your butt out the door
…
Except, he hadn’t seduced her.
He had taken her in his arms and kissed her. That was all he’d done. The choices afterward had been hers. She could have pushed him away. Slapped his face. She could even have let the kiss happen and then ended it and walked away. Nobody had forced her into his car, against that
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