you slept there.”
“I did?” she asked, sounding supremely shocked. “That’s not possible.”
“I promise you, it is.”
“But I’ve never slept on top of someone before.” Her eyes looked wild. “It must have been the painkillers. I’m not used to taking drugs of any kind.” She bit her lip. “I have to get off you, but if I move again, it’s going to hurt.”
He reached out and holding her by the waist, lifted her off of him. Then, changing his hold on her, one hand on her waist and the other cradling her head, he lowered her to her back. “Is that better?”
“Yes, thank you,” she replied primly and then bit her lip, her face contorting again.
“What is it?”
“I have to go to the bathroom. Badly.”
He didn’t say anything, just picked her up and carried her to the en suite. His stealth movement training came in handy, allowing him to move quickly without jostling her. The way she held her thighs tightly together said it all.
He stood her beside the commode. “Can you handle it from here?”
She blushed, a fiery red. “Yes.”
He left the door open, but absented himself so she would have a measure of privacy. His head was still reeling from the fact she’d managed to ensconce herself on top of him during the night without him noticing.
She came out of the bathroom wearing the hotel robe over her little top and cotton panties, moving about an inch at a time. He swiftly crossed the room and picked her up to carry her back to the bed.
“You’re really strong.” She didn’t say it like a come-on and he didn’t take it as such.
“Comes with the territory.”
Her small hand rested against his chest, sending totally inappropriate messages to his libido despite his brain’s warning that that wasn’t a come-on, either. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“My pleasure.” And as depraved as it made him feel to acknowledge it, because she was weak and wounded, he had to admit it really was pure pleasure to be carrying Claire like this.
When they reached the bed, she clung to his neck instead of letting him lower her to the mattress. “I don’t want to lie down again.”
“You need your rest.”
“I’ve been in bed forever.”
“Only about thirty hours, actually.”
“That is forever. No one should have to stay in bed that long.”
He just smiled, enjoying her crankiness.
She pouted, her lower lip protruding in an expression both endearing and sexy. “I’m hungry.”
“We’ll have to fix that, then.” He settled her on the suite’s sofa in the main room. “We can order lunch from room service.”
She leaned against the sofa arm, looking pale but determined to remain upright. “Okay.”
He grabbed the menu and skimmed it for something vegetarian for her. “Any preferences?”
“I’m not a picky eater.”
“Except the no-meat thing,” he said with a teasing smile.
“That’s not being picky.”
“What is it, then?”
“Self-protection.”
Considering what she’d told him about why she chose not to eat meat, he had to agree.
He called down an order for them both before sitting in the armchair near Claire. “Why don’t we go over what happened Sunday morning?”
Claire breathed a sigh of relief when the room-service waiter knocked on the suite’s door. She was impressed with Hotwire’s interrogation style, but it was exhausting. She’d thought the police officer was thorough, but she and Hotwire had only been talking about thirty minutes and she felt like he already knew more about what had happened than she did.
He rolled the food trolley over to her, having dismissed the waiter at the door. He hadn’t bothered to dress, though he had pulled a pair of jeans on before room service arrived. The top snap was undone, though. He had an incredible body, all sculpted muscle and golden skin.
It was all she could do not to fan herself with her hand.
Luckily, the food grabbed the attention of her senses and she sniffed the air appreciatively. “It smells delicious.”
“The food here is pretty good.”
Her tummy rumbled. “I don’t know if it would matter.”
“You haven’t eaten much in the last thirty hours.”
Some of that time was hazy in her memory, as she had slipped in and out of restorative sleep. “You kept feeding me dry toast.”
“I didn’t want you getting nauseous and puking. The last thing your poor head needed was for your body to start heaving.”
“Well, it worked.” She smiled and pulled the silver warming lid off her plate.
He’d ordered her a tofu and vegetable stir-fry over rice. She could smell the Chinese spices and soy sauce and it made her mouth water.
She looked up when he said, “Excuse me for a minute.”
She nodded and he disappeared into the bedroom. He returned shortly, wearing a t-shirt that hugged the rugged contours of his chest, and the snap on his jeans had been closed. He’d even pulled on socks and shoes.
“You got cold?” she asked, disappointed at the loss of such a fine view.
“My mama would string me up by my toes if I came to the table half-dressed to eat with a lady.”
“Your mother sounds like she ruled with an iron fist.”
“Wrapped in the velvet glove of southern gentility.”
“You love her.” It was in the tone of his voice every time he mentioned the other woman, that and a deep, abiding respect.
“Doesn’t everybody love their mother?”
“I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure love described the feelings she’d had for Norene when she died.
Pity, anger, confusion, despair…they’d all been there, but love? Claire couldn’t remember feeling much liking for her mom, not since her dad’s death and the subsequent reversal of roles between her and her surviving parent. Norene had done too much to make Claire’s life miserable for her to feel the kind of abiding affection Hotwire obviously had for his
