While She Was Sleeping... by Isabel Sharpe Page B

habit. You’ll be glad to know you could have been a rock and I still would have gone for you. Probably would have woken up all bent out of shape, though.”
    “Oh!” Her face grew pink with fury, then what he said must have hit her, and she burst out in an actual giggle.
    He grinned and her face grew pinker. “However, today, an unusual day, I have not yet injected, ingested or inhaled any foreign or illegal mind-altering substances, and I have to say I prefer you to any rock I’ve ever met.”
    She snorted again, but something shifted between them.
    “Truce?” He held out his hand.
    “Well…” She took it and gave him a firm shake. “For Melanie’s sake.”
    “Good.”
    “But stay away from me.”
    He smiled into her eyes and watched her pupils darken and dilate. He hadn’t let go of her hand yet, and she hadn’t pulled hers away.
    He had the distinct impression that she wanted him to stay away from her exactly as much as he did.

5
    A LANA POURED Comet onto a green scouring pad and went at the white porcelain sink as if she were training for the Olympic scrubbing team. Her life had been peaceful and calm for a long time. Moving to Chicago had been a huge upheaval, but the subsequent six years, once she settled in, had been rewarding and enriching. She’d met Sam when his sink backed up and she surprised him by being the one who showed up to fix it. Their friendship had proceeded slowly and naturally into romance. She’d made other friends in the building, at her gym and book group, and enjoyed an active social life. Chicago had provided plenty of culture. Life had been good.
    Even her breakup with Sam, though difficult for him and guilt-laden for her, hadn’t put her through too much devastation, which validated her decision not to marry him. Mostly a matter of breaking habits and coping with sadness and regret. Though if Alana had still been involved with him, she might not have found it as practical to plan a new life in Florida.
    She rinsed the sink, stared critically and shook in more Comet. Now her life was in transition again, so it was not too surprising that she was a little—okay, maybe a lot—stressed. The nagging restlessness in her relationship that came to a head when Sam proposed, and the same in her job during thispast year after they broke up had been unsettling. Gran’s fall had been even more unsettling, especially having to guess at the details—Gran claimed minor injuries to one leg, but she’d say that if she shattered every bone—then all the exhausting planning and packing for the move, then Melanie’s meltdown and now…
    She scrubbed harder.
    Sawyer.
    He was the most infuriating, funny, charming, infuriating, sex-y, sex-ual, sex-ist infuriating man she’d ever met.
    Did she mention infuriating?
    More Comet, more scrubbing. There were gray streaks on the bottom of the sink where pans had rubbed, and stains, probably coffee or tea, maybe something tomato-ey. All of them were doomed.
    If Alana’s apartment showed dirt or clutter, it was a guarantee that she was relaxed and happy. When you-know-what hit the fan, she cleaned. Even when she was little, if Mom hadn’t come home when she said she would, if she’d had one of her bad days, one of her wild days, brought yet another man home, Alana would tidy the house, arrange her toys, make her bed and Melanie’s, drag out the vacuum cleaner and the full array of cleaning products seldom touched by their mother, and she’d subjugate her pain and fear to creating cleanliness and order.
    Which was why this sink would blind users by the time she was done. Because second only to Sawyer’s unforgivable behavior yesterday morning had been hers. She didn’t know what had disabled her common sense, but while her brain had been extremely clear about staying away from him for Melanie’s sake, and for the sake of female pride everywhere, her body had entirely other thoughts. Alana had acted like the worst type of no-means-yes woman,