pair of Egyptian cotton pajama bottoms rode low on Phillip’s hips as he opened the door. Other than that, all she was able to comprehend, to process, was the ridiculous amount of muscle she was seeing.
Wide, ripped shoulders and bulging biceps. Lean hips and toned, defined abs. And she could only imagine what was under the pajamas. In fact, she was imagining it.
She was so stunned silly by his perfect physique, it took a moment to register that he was speaking to her.
She peeled her eyes from his flawless pecks, located his face, and uttered a very eloquent, “Huh?”
Amusement danced in the depth of his eyes. “I said, is there something wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“Why are you here?”
Think, Hannah. Why did you come all the way down here? Then she remembered the jacket still hanging from her left hand. “No. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to give this back to you.”
She held the jacket out to him, and he took it.
“Is that it?” he asked.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “No.”
He leaned in the door frame, arms folded across his chest, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. And, boy, were his biceps huge. So thick and strong looking, like he could probably bench-press a compact car and not break a sweat.
Did it suddenly get a lot hotter in here? Her cheeks were on fire and she was feeling just a little light-headed.
What was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if she had never seen a half-naked man before.
The biggest problem here wasn’t that she was wary of what she was seeing. Instead, she felt a very real and intense desire—no, not desire, need—to put her hands all over him.
She locked them together behind her back. Just to be safe.
“Are you all right?” he asked, though he looked more amused than concerned.
“Yes. I just…” She shook her head again. “No. I’m not.”
“Maybe you should come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside.
You know you shouldn’t be doing this, she told herself. Their wedding was still more than a week away. It was one thing to flirt and steal a kiss here and there, but going into his suite, at this late hour. In her pajamas. And Phillip almost naked.
She was really pushing it.
So you just won’t let anything happen, she decided. It’s not as though she was a slave to her libido.
She had waited this long. She could wait a little while longer.
But the question was, could Phillip? And if he took matters into his own hands, would she find the strength to stop him?
Bad idea or not, she followed him inside. His sitting room was much larger than her own, and closer to the size of the one they would be moving into after the wedding. And it was undeniably masculine. Dark polished wood and dark patterned fabric in rich hues. But not so dark that it was dreary or threatening. In contrast, the effect was warm and welcoming.
“This is nice,” she said, ideas popping into her head of how she might incorporate both his and her individual styles to create a decor they could both be comfortable in.
See, she told herself, coming here was a good thing.
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
She turned to him, with every intention of meeting his eyes, but her gaze kept snagging slightly lower.
“Hannah?”
She pried her eyes from his torso and met his gaze. He was grinning again.
“If it would help get the conversation rolling, I could put on a shirt.”
Though she knew he was only teasing, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. I’m flattered. But maybe you should tell me what’s wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“I asked if you were okay, and you said no.”
Had she? My goodness, he must have thought she was a total ditz. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to him. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My mother called.”
He didn’t seem to get the significance. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, she just…” Her voice cracked, and she realized, with horror, that tears burned the corners of her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was not a crier. She was tougher than that. Besides, she wasn’t that upset. More angry than sad.
“She just what?” he asked.
“She’s—” A half hiccup, half sob, worked its way up her throat and she battled to swallow it back down. “She’s getting married.”
Despite her resolve, the instant the words left her lips, the tears welled up over the edges of her lids and rolled down her cheeks. Mortified, she covered her face with her hands.
What was wrong with her? She should be spitting mad, not blubbering like a baby.
Then she felt Phillip’s arms go around her, draw her against him, and something inside her seemed to snap. Every bit of tension and anger that had built inside her let go in a limb-weakening rush and she all but melted against him.
“You think it’s too soon?” he asked. “For your mother to remarry, I mean.”
Because she wasn’t sure her voice was steady enough for a verbal reply, she nodded.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. Just knowing he was there for her if she needed him was enough right now.
He didn’t say anything else. He just held her and stroked her hair. She held on tight, her face pressed to his warm, bare skin, and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, until she felt the tears begin to work their way back down. Apparently, this was exactly what she’d needed. How did he always seem to know exactly what to do and say to make her feel better?
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For barging in on you like this. And getting all wishy-washy and emotional.”
“It’s okay.”
“I don’t usually do this. I’m not a crier. It…it’s just been a really stressful couple of days.”
“I can imagine.”
“Bringing
