he seemed interested in being anywhere but pressed up against her.
“Rosalyn.” Her name was reverent on his lips.
She began walking forward, causing him to move backward toward the bed. His arms were still wrapped around her hips making sure they were fully pressed together. When his knees finally hit the bed and he fell backward, he lifted her—as if she weighed nothing at all—and pulled her on top of him.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” he murmured. “It’s still okay if you just want to be here. Nothing has to happen.”
He would say that while she was lying flat on top of him? They weren’t undressed yet, but Rosalyn had no doubt they would be soon. In her experience most guys would call her a tease—or much worse—if she decided to call a halt to everything at this point.
“You would stop now if I asked you to?”
He threaded his hands in her hair and pulled her back so he could see her more clearly.
“Of course. Is that what you want?”
“No. Just most guys would give a woman a hard time if she decided to change her mind now.”
“Honey, a real man accepts that a woman can change her mind at any time and respects the word no if he hears it.”
Was it possible to fall a little bit in love with someone you’d known for only a few hours?
Rosalyn sat up, her legs straddling Steve’s hips. She unbuttoned her shirt and slowly peeled it over her shoulders. “Well, thanks for asking, but I have no desire to stop.” She pulled her sneakers and socks off and threw them over the side of the bed.
Steve crossed his arms under his head and just watched her. “Thank goodness. I would’ve stopped, but I sure as hell didn’t want to.”
She gasped as he sat up suddenly, forcing them even closer together. He spun and scooted them farther on the bed before dropping her down so he was now on top. She helped him discard his shirt, then pulled him back down to her.
His lips met hers again. No, she wasn’t interested in stopping. She was already coming apart inside. She held on to Steve and let his lovemaking chase away the demons that weren’t far outside the door.
* * *
THEY DIDN’T LEAVE the bungalow the entire next day, which was fine with Rosalyn. Who needed the beach? Especially on a cloudy, dreary day. Instead they made use of the bed and the couch and very good use of the heart-shaped hot tub. Steve ordered room service for every meal.
Steve’s colleagues might have meant the room as a joke—and heaven knew it wasn’t tasteful in its decorating—but Rosalyn loved every bit of it.
It was her own hideaway. The Watcher obviously didn’t know she was here. And as long as she stayed inside, there was no way he would find her.
She wondered if she could talk Steve into staying in the room forever. She looked over at him sleeping in the bed next to her right now, so late at night. His sexy face relaxed in sleep. It hadn’t always been that way. She’d seen his face tensed in passion or smiling as he talked to her and told her a story from his past. She’d also seen the concern when she caught him studying her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.
He was worried about her.
If he knew about the Watcher, he’d be less concerned about her well-being and more concerned with his own. Might even ask her to leave right away.
Every person she’d told about the Watcher who believed her had wound up dead. She wouldn’t take that chance with Steve. She’d just live in this little bungalow of fantasy until it didn’t exist anymore. Then she would go.
But she knew she’d be leaving a little part of her heart behind when she did. She rolled onto her side so she could study him more fully. She reached out and stroked his hair by his ear, drawing her fingers down his cheek. He turned his face toward her, seeking her touch even in his sleep.
She should sleep now too. It had been a pleasurable but exhausting day and now it was late. Who knew what tomorrow would bring.
Her eyes were drifting closed when she heard the sound.
It didn’t wake Steve. Why would it? It was just the barest whisper of a noise. If her body and mind hadn’t already been programmed to listen for it—to fear it above all else—Rosalyn wouldn’t have heard it either.
The sound of an envelope being slid under the door.
Her heart stopped and her breathing became ragged. The acid that burned in her stomach—blessedly missing for the last day—returned with a force that caused Rosalyn to ball up on the bed.
She bit her fist, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to awaken Steve. If she did, she’d never be able to keep this a secret from him.
The Watcher had found her again.
Rosalyn lay on the bed for what seemed like forever trying to get herself under control. She finally managed to crawl off, dropping silently to the floor, and stumbled over to where the envelope lay.
With shaking hands she picked it up and pulled out the paper from inside.
If you like Steve so much, I guess I’ll need to meet him soon.
She swallowed the sob in her throat. No. She couldn’t allow the Watcher to come after Steve. The thought galvanized her into action.
Within minutes she had silently dressed and grabbed her bag. Steve had rolled over toward her side of the bed, as if he was seeking her missing form, but Rosalyn refused to let herself think about it. If she did, she would never make it out.
And she had to concentrate on where she was going to go. The time with Steve had given her the strength not to give up her battle against the Watcher. To keep fighting. But it hadn’t given her a course of action with which to do that. She didn’t have any money and she had no plan.
She spotted Steve’s wallet on the dresser. He’d used it each time he’d paid for the food that had been delivered. Food he wouldn’t even consider letting her help pay for—good, considering how broke she was.
Shame beat down on Rosalyn as she opened his wallet and took out the cash. One hundred and eighty-three dollars.
She didn’t know how far it would get her, but at least it would get her away from here. Get the Watcher away from Steve.
She looked down at his naked back, his hips and legs tangled in the sheets. He’d never know how much he’d meant to her. What he’d given her in a time she’d needed so much.
He’d just remember her as a one-and-a-half-night stand and the woman who stole his cash. She’d become a cocktail story for him. A joking warning to his friends.
The tears leaked out of her eyes. This time she didn’t even try to stop them.
Thinking about her would be distasteful for Steve.
But at least he would be alive.
