Rachel turned onto her side and rested her cheek against his chest. “I could run to the drugstore,” she offered.
“We can wait.” He brushed his fingers over her nipple. “I can wait.”
“But what if I can’t?” She caught his hand and pressed his open palm to the full swell of that breast he’d teased.
He dragged in a deep breath and let it out. “There’s nothing I want more than to make love to you. But you invited me to dinner, not to take advantage of being alone with you in your apartment. And besides, we probably shouldn’t be half-naked in front of your open windows.” He winked. “What will the neighbors think?”
“To hell with the neighbors.” She pulled him closer to kiss his lips. “But I did invite you to dinner. The least I can do is feed you.”
Noah reached over her to the sofa, where a light throw blanket lay. He snagged it and handed it to her. “It’s getting dark outside and the lights on in here will make us even more easily visible to prying eyes.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks burning, she wrapped the blanket around her while Noah zipped his jeans, tucking the evidence of his passion inside.
“I’ll be just a minute.” Rachel rose, grabbed her dress and panties and made a beeline for her bedroom, glancing at the windows as she did. It had gotten darker and there was a woman walking her dog beneath the streetlight. All she’d have to do was turn and she’d have gotten an eyeful.
Her cheeks burning even hotter, Rachel entered her bedroom and closed the door behind her before she dropped the blanket. Holy hell, she had just had the best foreplay of her life and would have gone all the way with Noah had either one of them had protection. And she still hadn’t accomplished what she’d intended to. She ducked into the bathroom to splash water over her heated face, wondering how she’d tell him now that they’d made love on her living room floor.
* * *
Noah gathered his shirt and slipped it over his shoulders. He moved around the town house as he threaded his belt through the loops on his jeans.
A soft brown leather sofa could have been considered masculine, but the bright pillows in orange, yellow, red and teal tones gave it a cheerful, more feminine appearance. The two overstuffed chairs on either side of the sofa used the same color palette as the pillows, tying the furniture together. The Persian carpet was a modern design made of high quality wool.
Oil paintings strategically placed along the walls could have been selected by an interior designer to complement the furnishings and accent tables. Everything was tasteful and the overall impression was one of light, broken up by rich colors and textures. It was a warm and inviting home and reflected its owner.
Noah wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window and searched for the mechanism to close the curtains. When he couldn’t find a string or rod, he started to grab the edge of the curtains and drag it over. In the process, he noticed a button on the wall. He pressed it and the curtains started sliding slowly. As he waited for them to close all the way, he glanced out the window. A figure moved in the shadows, just out of reach of the solitary streetlight on the corner. He wouldn’t have been concerned if the figure had moved on as if walking home. But it remained just out of the light, standing still, not moving.
A ripple of awareness slid across Noah’s skin. Though it seemed ridiculous and paranoid, he felt as though the person outside was staring at him as he stared back. The curtain closed, shutting out the shadow and cocooning Noah and Rachel inside the town house.
Noah shook off the strange feeling and counted it as an overactive imagination. Not everyone in the world had huge secrets, hidden agendas and nefarious motives.
A buzzing sound caught his attention and he found a cell phone on the table beside the sofa. It looked exactly like his so he lifted it and read the writing on the display screen.
It was a text from his half sister, Landry.
Are you going to tell him before or after dinner?
Noah stared at the phone. Tell him what? was the first thought in his head. The second being, Tell who what? Perhaps she had the wrong number. He was about to respond to her text telling her that when another text flashed onto the screen.
Remember to tell Noah it was my idea and not to blame you.
Confused, he stared down at the phone. It looked like his with the same black protective case and the same make and model. Then he remembered he’d left his phone in his truck. This phone probably belonged to Rachel.
As he came to that conclusion, the meaning of the words made more sense. Landry was asking Rachel if she’d told him something. Obviously it was something that he might not like, if she was looking to take the blame for it.
Now the phone had his full attention. Like a sleepwalker, he couldn’t stop himself. He held the phone in both hands and slowly keyed, What should I tell him?
He knew it was wrong and that he was violating Rachel’s privacy by reading her text messages, but after all the lies he’d been told and all the secrets he hadn’t been a party to until now, he had a sinking feeling in his gut that this was going to be another one to add to the mounting list.
What could Rachel and Landry have done that was so bad he’d get mad? He’d always thought of Rachel as someone he could trust, someone who wasn’t a member of the family, who didn’t have a stake in Reginald’s will.
He almost set the phone aside, not wanting to have his faith in Rachel shattered. As he moved his hand to do that, another text popped up on the screen.
Be straightforward. Tell him about spying on him and why we did it.
A lead weight settled in the pit of Noah’s belly.
Dressed now in the soft lemon-yellow sundress and feeling more in control of her thoughts and her body, Rachel stepped out of the bedroom, a smile curving her lips. “I bet you’re hungry.”
Noah had his back to her and seemed to be staring down at something in his hand, his body stiff and unbending.
“Noah?” A cold sensation trickled down her spine as she crossed the room to where he stood and touched his arm.
He jerked away.
Her heart pinched in her chest. “Is something wrong?”
“I thought it was mine.” Turning, he held out a cell phone. “But it wasn’t. Landry texted you.” He stared straight into her eyes.
Rachel could feel the blood leaving her face. She didn’t have to look down at the phone to get the gist of what he’d discovered. “I was going to tell you tonight.”
“Before or after we made love?” he asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper, but the anger behind it as hard and as sharp as a steel-edged knife.
“Before. But—”
Noah held up a hand. “Save it. I need to go back to where I belong.” He snorted. “Trouble is that I don’t
