exhaled. “I don’t lie.” Her voice was tight.
Another few steps and he was at her bedside. He wasn’t certain, but the sheets didn’t look exactly white. More like silver. With a sheen.
He’d slept on five-hundred-dollar sheets that were smoother than silk, and five-dollar sheets that were as rough as sandpaper.
He’d never slept on satin sheets covering a round bed. There probably wasn’t a single member of the Reed family who had.
You’re not going to be the one to change that.
The voice inside his head was mocking.
“Okay. So you don’t lie.” Truth was, when she’d been in his employ, Nikki had been unfailingly honest, even when it meant tactfully telling him he was acting like an arrogant jerk. “But you can’t hold back things, either.”
Her hands flopped on the mattress and he realized she hadn’t just drawn up her knees, she’d been hugging her leg. “I had a charley horse.” Even husky from sleep, her voice managed to convey embarrassment.
He sat on the bed and stifled a sigh when she practically jumped six inches back. “Relax.” He reached over and caught her leg through the sheet.
Satin. Definitely.
“What are you doing?”
“Where’s the cramp?” His hand slid down her shin. Circled a very narrow ankle. He couldn’t say he’d ever noticed before how delicately formed they were.
She’d usually been dressed from head to toe in very conservative, very tailored pantsuits.
She twisted her foot, trying to brush his hands aside. “It’s gone now.”
“And you wouldn’t admit where it was if it weren’t gone. It’s not a crime to accept help, you know.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but you don’t want to be.”
Her foot stopped moving. “And you do? Pull the other leg. It’s got bells on.”
He reached a little farther and caught the leg in question. “Nope. No bells ringing there.” Just a cacophony of warning buzzers going off inside his head. He let go of her and stood. Shoved his hands in his pockets. “Is the bed comfortable, at least?”
“Yes. Except I feel like I might slide off the edge if I’m not careful. The sheets are pretty slippery. And I’ve, um, never slept on a round bed. It’s a little…”
“Kinky?”
“Odd.” Her voice sounded strangled. But she moved her feet again, and again he felt the sound like a physical thing. “I, um, I really could have taken the couch, you know. I didn’t mind.”
Shortly after lunch, he’d carried her from the couch to the bed, over her protests. “I’d mind.”
She made a soft murmur that seemed distinctly female, and as such, was completely incapable of interpretation.
“Do you want some water or something?”
She reached out and picked up the glass he’d given her already. “Still full.”
“Well, you should be drinking it,” he murmured. Her arms were bare. When he’d put her to bed, she’d been wearing a long-sleeved sweater.
“If I were drinking glasses of water all night long, I’d be constantly going back and forth to the bathroom,” she said huskily. “And since you’ve been dogged about carrying me there, too, you would get no more sleep than I would.”
“Be glad the doctor said you didn’t have to stay put so much that you needed a bedpan.”
He couldn’t see it, but he knew that she was blushing. Ornery bastard that he was, it made him smile.
“I’ll drink it later,” she assured him, holding up the sheet with the other hand. Making him wonder what she wore beneath it. He’d put her suitcase on a chair within reach of the bed. Presumably she’d had a nightgown in there or something.
“Let me know if the charley horse comes back.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it, Nikki.”
“Or what? You’ll fire me?” The tart comment seemed to surprise her as much as it did him. “I’ll let you know.” She slipped down to her side.
At the foot of the mattress, the bedspread gave up the ghost and sighed to the floor.
Alex’s hands fisted inside his pockets. He returned to his side of the fireplace, but didn’t bother lying down on the couch. He wasn’t going to sleep.
He went into the kitchen and turned on the small light over the stove. At least here, there was a wall separating the space from the bedroom. The light shouldn’t disturb Nikki.
He quietly carried an iron-backed bar stool from the minibar in the minuscule dining area and set it in the kitchen. His briefcase was already open on the counter next to the toaster, and he pulled out a stack of papers and envelopes—mail that he’d grabbed on his way out the door to the airport days ago and still hadn’t read— and dumped everything on the counter.
Then he poured himself a small measure of bourbon in one of the plentiful glasses the cabin was stocked with.
He sat down, propped his elbows on the counter and swirled the liquor gently in the glass.
The other advantage of the wall between the kitchen and bedroom was that he couldn’t waste any time wondering how long it’d be before a damn bedspread fell off a damn mattress.
He tossed back half the contents of the glass and set it aside. Too bad he didn’t have a handy wall inside his head, cordoning off the question that had been squatting there.
What kind of man could capture Nikki’s attention deeply enough to leave her pregnant?
And why the hell wasn’t the guy with her?
The heavenly smell of coffee woke Nikki the following morning. She didn’t even open her eyes at first. Just lay there still as a mouse, cradled in a soft jumble of pillows, as she slowly breathed in that wonderful, wonderful aroma.
Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a good dose of caffeine-rich coffee. But all caffeinated drinks and any foods that were remotely salty—and therefore flavorful—were now stricken from her allowable list.
So she lay there and savored the smell, and pretended not to notice that she was practically salivating all the while.
But lying there like a bump could only last so long before her back started to ache, so she turned over, stretching out her legs, pointing her toes. When she’d first seen the silver satin sheets, she’d been somewhat appalled. But the fact was, they felt pretty darn nice. Slippery, true. But nice.
So she swished
