Imminent Affair. Sheri WhiteFeather
washed her face and removed her makeup, then brushed her hair until it shined. The ends skimmed her tailbone.
Okay. There. She looked good. She felt good.
Allie scooted into bed and got restless. Being pretty for herself wasn’t enough.
She wanted to see Daniel, and she wanted him to see her. So do it, her mind coaxed. Find an excuse to knock on his door.
What excuse? That there were monsters under her bed?
The thought made her smile. At one time, she had endured monsters. Real ones. Allie’s diabolical ancestors had conjured witchcraft creatures, and she and Daniel had battled them. He’d helped her through the most difficult time of her life.
Was it any wonder that she loved him?
She got out of bed and checked her appearance in the mirror, giving her hair one final fluff and her nightgown one last body-clinging smooth. From there, she ventured into the hallway. Daniel lived in a modest North Hollywood residence, but he’d fixed it up nicely. He’d made all sorts of improvements, including new carpets, new floors and landscaping the front and back yards. In return, the landlord had discounted his rent.
Allie paused outside his room. A small strip of light shimmered beneath his door, a telltale sign that he remained awake. She still hadn’t come up with an excuse to be visiting him at this hour. But she knocked anyway. She was good at thinking on her feet.
He called out from behind the wooden barrier, “Come in.”
Suddenly she was nervous. She wanted to turn tail and run, but it was too late for that.
Allie opened the door and entered his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, with a paperback on the nightstand. His chest was bare, making the scar from his surgery visible, and he wore drawstring pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. She glanced at his navel and his gloriously rippled abs. Before she looked too hard and too deep, she shifted her attention to his face.
He was checking her out, too. His dark gaze slid up and down her nightgown-clad body and rested momentarily on her breasts. She prayed that her nipples didn’t get hard. Self-consciousness was setting in. But so was a major revelation.
Although Daniel treated her like a friend, he was sexually attracted to her. Some of what he’d felt for her prior to the coma was still there, sluicing through his blood. If Allie wasn’t such a Chicken Little, she could seduce him.
Climb right in his lap and make him moan.
“What’s going on?” he finally asked.
“Nothing. I just wanted to say goodnight.” So much for thinking on her feet. They’d already bid each other goodnight earlier.
He stood up, and his height dwarfed the military-tidy room. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“A little.”
“So am I. But I’m a bit of an insomniac anyway.” He adjusted the waistband of his pajama bottoms, lifting them a smidgen. They’d fallen even lower on his hips. “Was I always?”
God, he looked gorgeous. Rough and ready. “Were you always what?”
“An insomniac?”
She tried not to stammer. He was moving closer. “I don’t know. We never slept near each other.”
“But we fought paranormal creatures, searched for a magic talisman and helped your cursed lover get back to his dead wife?”
“It sounds unbelievable, but that’s what we did.” Her cursed lover had been a time-traveling warrior who’d shape-shifted into a raven.
“Was it hard to let him go?”
The question threw her. Daniel had never questioned her in detail about Raven. “I wanted him to be happy, to find peace.” Before Raven went away, he’d asked Daniel to look after her. But since Daniel didn’t remember, she wasn’t about to tell him. There was only so much she could say about the past without getting emotional. Besides, he was looking after her, even without recalling his promise to Raven.
Allie shifted her bare feet. By now, she and Daniel stood face-to-face. Seducing him crossed her mind again, but she thought better of it. She wanted more from him than sex. She wanted him to remember that he’d loved her.
He had loved her, hadn’t he? He’d never come right out and said it, but she assumed that he had.
A knot grew in her belly. What if she’d been wrong? What if all he’d ever felt for her was a physical attraction?
She glanced at the neon green numbers on the alarm clock. It was almost midnight, and she was battling a newfound blast of anxiety. “I should go. I should try to get some sleep.”
“Me, too. For all the good it will do.” He reached out to touch a spaghetti strap on her nightgown. “You look pretty, Allie.”
The knot in her stomach got tighter. Was he making a play for her?
“I imagined you wearing something like this. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wore it on purpose.” He snared her gaze. “You’re not psychic, are you? Like your sister?”
She felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I can’t read people’s minds. And you shouldn’t have been thinking about me in my bedclothes.”
“The way you shouldn’t be coming to my room looking like an innocent siren?” He stepped back, putting distance between them. He wasn’t making a play. He was reprimanding her, along with himself. “We’re both guilty of misconduct.”
Yes, they were, and he was too damn observant for his own good. Struggling to temper her emotions, she said good-night once again, and turned and left his room, closing the door gently behind her.
Too bad he wasn’t observant enough to figure out that the innocent siren loved him.
The sun shone through the windows, making Daniel aware of its yellow rays. Christmas was only two weeks away, but the Southern California weather didn’t seem to know the difference. Not that Daniel cared. The holidays didn’t make him cheerful. Why he felt like a bit of a Scrooge, he couldn’t say. But lots of people got depressed around Christmas, so he tried not to make too much of it.
Although he was still sleep deprived, he showered, shaved, and donned a pair of freshly laundered jeans and a basic white T-shirt. Next, he headed to the kitchen where Allie was getting a jumpstart on breakfast. She’d already beaten him to the punch and brewed a pot of coffee, and now she was cracking eggs into a bowl.
He stood in the doorway and watched her. She was wearing a big, fluffy pink robe and ugly slippers with mottled colors. He assumed that the pretty nightgown was underneath, but damn if he could tell. She was belted good and tight. He supposed that after last night’s encounter, she wasn’t taking any chances. But at least it was out in the open. At least they’d admitted that they were attracted to each other. Or sort of admitted it. Whatever the case, one thing was clear: they weren’t going to act on it.
Maintaining a platonic relationship was best. Safer, he thought. Less complicated.
“Morning,” he said by way of a greeting.
She glanced up, and they stared at each other, trapped in remnants of the awkward stuff. He cursed the caveman feeling that being near her gave him. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her back to his bed, ugly robe and all.
Finally, she gestured to the food on the counter. She’d diced onions and tomatoes to go along with the eggs. She’d grated cheddar cheese, too. “I hope you don’t mind that I raided your fridge.”
“No, it’s fine. Help yourself. You’re a far better cook than I am.” But who wasn’t?
“Do you want an omelet?”
“I’d love one. Could you put ham in mine, though?” He wasn’t up for another meatless meal.