that the feel of his fingers on her skin didn’t even make her twitch. This was all to the good, because he could not have made himself stop touching her, even if her much-needed rest had been threatened. Hair, temple, eyelids and cheeks, lips and throat, shoulders, breasts, nipples—oh yes, a lot of time was devoted to those sweet gems—ribs, waist, outer thigh, inner thigh—but no further. He didn’t trust himself that far.
As the night wore on, Kasdeya explored her beauty again and again. Sometimes with sweeping glides of his palm. Sometimes with only the tip of one finger. Eyes closed. Eyes open. Eyes mostly open. He had to look at her.
On the hundredth—thousandth, who knew?—pass of his hand, his fingers sank into her suddenly ghostly form.
“No!”
But it was already too late. His fist pounded the warm indent where she had lain only one second before. “Damn it!”
* * * *
Alex woke up feeling marvelously languid. She opened puffy lids to see sunlight gilding the unpacked boxes under the stained glass window, making the battered cardboard look oddly beautiful in the multi-hued light. She smiled and stretched, letting her eyes fall closed once more. She felt so lazy and tired, she almost seemed detached from her body. Maybe she’d get up and put on a pot of coffee in just one more—
Her eyes shot open again. Sunlight was slanting across her bedroom floor. Her bedroom faced west. “Shit!” she exclaimed, sitting up quickly. Every muscle screamed in protest at the abrupt movement and the world tilted left. She ignored all that, reaching for the ears of her Mickey Mouse alarm clock to turn it toward her. It was two-thirteen. Oh, crap!
Moving as quickly as her fatigued body would allow, Alex crawled to the edge of the bed. Her legs almost refused to hold her when she attempted to stand. Her pelvis had a strange loose feeling, as if it were no longer as firmly seated as it had been the day previous. The tattered remnants of her nightgown fluttered to the ground at her feet and a splash of liquid followed, coating her inner thighs. Alex had a brief moment of confusion before she realized what it must be. Her entire body flushed with a combination of embarrassment and remembered pleasure.
“God,” she mumbled, bending to pick up the torn flannel and wipe off the sticky, sweetly scented mess. “Not only did I not banish him, I freakin’ screwed him.”
She couldn’t spare much thought for that right now though. The urgent press of her bladder had become the all consuming focus of her world the moment she’d stood up. Naked, Alex rushed out her bedroom door, jiving past the upstairs bathroom, doing the pee-pee dance down the steep stairs to the two-piece bath in the front hall. The house had two bathrooms—one full and one half—but only the half-bath had had a mirror she could remove completely. Knowing Kasdeya could hear her through the covered mirror had made it impossible for her to use the other bathroom for anything but bathing.
The antique silver mirror that had formerly graced the wall over the half-bath’s fluted pedestal sink was now in the hall, covered in a towel. It leaned next to a small, Queen Anne console table that held a tiny lamp, her phone and her answering machine. In her mad rush past, she noticed the machine blinking. The number four flashed repeatedly.
After she’d relieved her dire need, Alex shuffled back to the phone and spent one or two guilt-filled seconds just looking at the answering machine. Four, four, four, four. She pushed the play button.
Rose. “Hey, Alex. It’s like nine-forty. Did you have an appointment or something that you forgot to tell me about? Well, I guess I’ll see you soon. Bye.” Beeep.
Rose again. “It’s eleven o’clock, Alex. Do you know where your children are?” The sound of Rose sniggering. “’Cause I sure as hell don’t know where my boss is.” Beeep.
An automated machine. “Hellooo. This is a friendly reminder from your local Blockb—”
Alex hit the skip button. Oops. She’d get the movies back today, for sure.
And Rose again. “Hey, hon, me again. So, I rescheduled your three o’clock and sent off the grant request. Your signature’s way too easy to forge. You should work on that. Anyway, something important’s obviously come up for you, so don’t worry about heading in. Everything’s fine here. But I’m getting really worried. If I don’t hear from you by the time I leave, I’m gonna swing by. Feel free to head me off at the pass. Call me!” Beeep.
Alex groaned as another wave of guilt washed over her. Dovescot had a full house right now, not to mention the spring fling picnic they were planning for next week. It was way too busy over there for one person to handle. She picked up the phone to call her friend back.
“Dovescot,” said Rose in a chipper voice.
“It’s me.”
“Oh hey! You’re not dead. How cool is that?”
“Ha-ha. Look, I’m so sorry. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll—”
“Don’t worry about it, Alex. Seriously. Everything’s under control here.”
Alex looked around at the boxes still cluttering every corner. The day was wasted anyway. “Well, if you’re sure…”
Rose laughed. “I’m sure! Get over yourself. We won’t fall apart without you for one day. But what happened? I had visions of your car overturned on I-5.”
“No, no, nothing like that.” Alex ran a fingernail through the layer of dust on the cherry Queen Anne table. She certainly couldn’t tell Rose she’d been up making love all night. Not without a real live man to back up her tale. Her gaze lit on her purse by the front door and the plain purple bag beside it. Aha! “That tea Melynda gave me must have really done a number on my sleep-deprived bod,” she said, relieved to have a somewhat plausible excuse.
“Oh.” Rose managed to sound both appeased and dubious with only that one sound. “Weird. Maybe you’ll have to get over your fear of pills after all, huh? Well, why don’t you take the rest of the day to unpack? Tomorrow’s your day off anyway, so I see absolutely no reason why you can’t have that house completely done by Monday morning.” She ignored Alex’s snort of disbelief. “Yep, the painting, refinishing the floors, unpacking, all of it. Get to work, you lazy girl. You promised me a house party, remember? I’ve got a year-old box of wine my sister brought over, and I can’t wait to unload—” The sound of a child shrieking in the background cut her off. “Shit. Nicky just fell off the swing set again. I’ll catch you later, hon. Enjoy your day off.”
Alex hung up, feeling guiltier than ever. Nicole was a four-year-old cutie who seemed to have some balance problems, no doubt due to the number of blows her father, Darryl Grier, had rained down on her little blond head the night her mother had finally wised up and left the bastard. The restraining order against Darryl was firmly in place, charges pending. They’d booked a CAT-scan for Nicole, but the earliest appointment they could get was in two weeks. Until then, they’d just have to keep a close eye on her.
Alex sighed and ran her hands through her hair, or tried to anyway. Her fingers got snarled at the base of her skull, where a huge rat’s nest had formed thanks to all that slip-sliding she’d been doing between the sheets. With a soft curse, she set about pulling apart the hopelessly knotted clump as she walked into the kitchen. Coffee was definitely in order.
* * * *
Alex poured a capful of lavender
