wanted to kiss him for understanding—or maybe she just wanted to kiss him, period—and nodded emphatically. “Yes, I’m exhausted. I sleep all night, or seem to, but I am dead tired in the morning.”
“Your body is sleeping but your mind isn’t—you’re probably waking up more frequently than you realize, and lack of sleep will catch up with you.”
“You know a lot about sleep.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t get much of it—I’ve been through the grinder trying to solve my own disorder.”
He was being so kind, and that he understood and was so sympathetic made everything far too intimate between them for some reason. She stood and took their plates to the sink, needing to get up and put some distance between them, but it didn’t work. He stood and followed her with the remainder of the table’s contents.
“Have you tried a sleep clinic, or taking pills?”
She grimaced, leaning against the sink. “I don’t think pills will help me stop dreaming about you.” She clapped a hand over her mouth too late, sputtering, “I mean, uh …”
He chuckled, reaching past her to turn on the faucet, filling the sink with soapy water. He was way too close, she observed, inhaling his masculine scent, but she didn’t move away.
“I know what you mean,” he said, leaning against the sink, facing her. “I guess the question is what can you—or we—do about it?”
RAFE WATCHED THE ROSES bloom in her cheeks again. He was fascinated with every little thing about this woman and far too turned on. He shifted slightly, crossing his legs casually and hoping he could mask the hard evidence of his interest as they stood contemplating each other by the sink.
“Joy?” he prompted as she managed to look everywhere around the kitchen but at him.
She stepped away from the counter briskly, wiping her hands on a towel even though they hadn’t actually done any of the dishes. Her expression and her smile were overly bright.
“Hey, thanks for the manicotti. Maybe you should take some home? It’s a lot of food for one person.”
Suddenly he wasn’t aroused, but plenty confused.
“Am I being dismissed then?”
He knew he sounded ticked off and regretted it as he saw the flare of panic in her gaze. She set her hands on her hips, facing him.
“Listen, I don’t want you getting the wrong idea—and I think you were.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What wrong idea would that be?”
He didn’t say another word and watched her wrestle with her own discomfort, trying to answer his question without answering it. She mumbled something and he leaned in. “Excuse me? Didn’t quite catch that.”
She glared at him. “I didn’t want you thinking that I was coming on to you—you know, with the dream thing. They’re only dreams. That’s all.”
It made him itch to find a way to show her how prim and proper she wasn’t. Whether it was coming out in her dreams or not, he glimpsed the passionate woman who lived beneath the uptight facade. For some reason, beyond his own denied libido, he wanted to bring her out.
“Joy, maybe you need to loosen up. I know you take your work seriously, and you have a lot of stress, but do you ever have any fun?”
She looked up, frowning. She hadn’t expected that, he could tell.
“Of course I do. I have plenty of fun.”
“Doing what?”
“I like to read and watch TV, when I’m not working. Sometimes I go to a movie, or go out. Walk on the beach.”
“Do you do those things often?”
“When I can, like most people. Work takes up a lot of my time. You don’t get promotions by working forty hours a week.”
“You sound like you’re good at your work, but sometimes people get too wrapped up in their work. I love being an EMT, but it’s my job, not my life. I think knowing that is what allowed me to be good at it. Do you love PR?”
“You don’t have to love your work to be good at it. I love being good at it.”
“Why would you do something that doesn’t make you happy?”
Her eyes widened. “Uh, because we’re adults and we work, we pay bills, and do what’s expected of us. Keeping my house makes me happy.”
He blinked—the way she’d said it sounded like someone else talking, not her. He wondered where someone got the concept of work that Joy obviously clung to so strongly.
“Well, that’s true, but you can be happy in the meantime.”
She shoved her fingers through her hair, and he found himself wondering how soft those strands were.
She yawned. “I’m sorry, I’m tired. It’s been a tough day and I have to be up early. Not all of us are on vacation, able to stay up to all hours debating the nature of life and happiness,” she said sarcastically but without bite.
“Listen, I have an idea,” he said, deciding to ignore the fact that she was withdrawing from him again.
“Does it include walking toward the door?”
He grinned, liking her smart-ass side, even if it was being directed at him at the moment.
“Eventually. You know, if you go to bed now you’re only going to be screaming my name in an hour or so,” he said teasingly.
“That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not, but I know a little something about sleep disorders, and maybe yours is caused by all this stress.”
Her eyebrow quirked up in the sexiest way he’d ever observed. “Oh, and I suppose you’d like to help me relax?”
He took a step closer, close enough to catch the scent of her soap and shampoo. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t look away as he responded.
“Yeah, actually. I’d like that. I have time, I like you. I think you like me, even if you won’t admit it. We could have some fun.”
“Exactly what kind of fun are you talking about?”
He didn’t bother hiding his attraction as he spoke. “Anything you’d be open to.”
“So you did all this, tonight, just to come on to me,” she accused, but he shook his head.
“No, I didn’t. I promise. I’m honest enough with myself to know that I’m attracted to you—how could I not be? Look at you,” he said. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“Give me a break,” she huffed.
“I’m
