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  “Royce,” she whispered, refusing to look at him, and he wasn’t going to force her, wasn’t going to push her. But he knew now, more than ever, that had he given her no reason to believe he wanted her, she would have pushed him away. She would have built a wall he would have never been able to climb.

  Royce scooped her up and carried her toward the only bedroom he’d seen when inspecting the house. The room was dark, but Royce ignored the switch, his eyes adjusting quickly. She needed the shelter of the shadows, and he wasn’t going to take that from her. Not now, not this evening.

  A fluffy white down comforter sat on top of the mattress and Royce settled them both down on top of it. When she tried to curl into him, to press her body to his, he ran his hand over her hair, kissed her, and then gently turned her back to his front. “Sleep, Lauren,” he murmured.

  She tried to turn, looking at him over her shoulder. “But”

  He kissed her. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She seemed to consider arguing, but slowly turned back into his arms, softening into the crook of his body, the tension sliding away from her. ”You aren’t what I expected, Royce Walker,” she whispered and almost instantly her breathing settled into a slow, steady rhythm, which told him just how influenced by the alcohol she’d really been.

  He nuzzled her cheek, drew in the scent of her, and knew he was in big trouble. He didn’t snuggle, he didn’t linger with women, damn sure didn’t get personally involved. Not for years, not since a youthful near marriage that had been so wrong, in so many ways. He’d wanted a career in the FBI. She’d wanted him home, focused on her. The break up had been bad, and truth be told, she’d been right. He’d been more dedicated to the agency than to her. His duty to his country, to the agency, had left no room for a woman, not one he called his own. But he wasn’t in the agency anymore, and at thirty-four years old, he was no longer a young college kid who hadn’t lived and learned. And Lauren affected him like no other woman ever had. And he saw no way around her hating him in the morning.

  “You aren’t what I expected either, Lauren Reynolds,” he whispered.

  Chapter Four

  Lauren woke without opening her eyes, the aches in her body sending her a warning. Slowly, she forced her lids to lift. “Oh,” she moaned, hand going to her forehead. It was pathetic that the tiny amount of alcohol she’d consumed the night before had given her a hangover.

  Shifting, hoping a new position would ease the pain growing in her head, she froze, memories of falling asleep in Royce’s arms flooding her mind. Realization that she was alone slamming into her like a concrete wall. “I’m such a fool,” she whispered. Of course he was gone. Of course he’d left without even a word. She’d all but thrown herself on him, and good gosh, she must have made a fool of herself, because he hadn’t even taken full advantage of her willing state.

  She pressed herself to a sitting position, an action that made her light headed, but the true pain was her humiliation. Royce Walker had given her a pity orgasm. If that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing in the world, then what was?

  Her brows dipped, her nostrils flaring with an unexpected scent. Coffee. She smelled coffee. How could she smell coffee? Was this some odd, hangover trick of her senses? And then it hit her. Royce. Royce was here and he’d made coffee. A mixture of relief, pleasure, and then panic washed over her. Her gaze went to the barely cracked doorway. He was out there. Royce was in her living room. Oh good gosh, how was she going to face that man knowing she had all but begged him to have his wicked way with her? Life had suddenly taken a path to full frontal embarrassment.

  She looked down and realized she was still wearing her dress from the night before. She swallowed hard. And she had no panties on. They were out there, in the living room, with Royce the man who’d taken them off of her. She pressed her hand to her face. She had to do something, had to change clothes. Yes. Change clothes.

  Lauren shoved aside the blanket covering her, fighting the throb of her head, and rushed to her closet. She quickly tugged her favorite long red silk robe off the hook inside the door and slipped it over her dress. It wasn’t much, but it was extra coverage, extra armor. She cringed. How was putting on a silk robe which amounted to a piece of lingerie helping her situation? She tore the robe off and threw it to the ground. She didn’t want to look bedroom ready and a robe was bedroom ready.

  She was about to head to the door when her gaze caught on her image in the mirror above her dresser, and she quickly brushed fingers through the wild mass of her hair. Her mascara was smudged, her lipstick gone, her general appearance that of someone who’d drank too much and slept too little. She fought the urge to go fix her face, not wanting to seem too affected by this man, like she’d primped for him, even though she wanted to.

  She shook herself, told herself to calm the heck down. Maybe the scent of coffee was her imagination, a post drinking, post orgasm, morning after fantasy that she’d conjured from a deep craving for a caffeine IV. Or maybe Julie had come by to get the gossip on Royce. Julie! Yes! She had a key. Julie was here, not Royce.

  She laughed at herself, ignoring the disappointment in her stomach, and rushed to the bedroom door but still didn’t yank it open. Instead, she eased into a position where she could peek outside, scanning the empty living room through the crack, and bringing the dining area into focus. And that was when her breath lodged in her throat.

  Royce was sitting at the kitchen table, looking quite comfortable and at home while laughing at something he was reading in the paper. His jacket and tie were gone, a few buttons on his shirt were undone, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to display his powerful forearms, one of which flexed as he raised his coffee cup to his too full, too sensual mouth. The one that had done so many wonderful things to her, that she wanted him to do again.

  Without warning, he lowered the paper, and smiled at her. “Good morning, Lauren.”

  She cringed at the realization that she’d just been busted staring at him. Could she ever stop making a fool of herself with this man? She pulled open the door and forced the breath she’d been holding to trickle from her lips. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

  “A gentleman never leaves a woman in need,” he said playfully, suggestively.

  In need. Lauren felt her cheeks heat. She’d made a fool of herself and she had to amend that and amend it now. “I’m not”

  He lifted his cup and chuckled, a deep, masculine, sexy sound that made her stomach flip flop. “I’m talking about caffeine and aspirin.”

  He stood up and held out a chair. “Come join me and I’ll get you both.”

  ***

  Royce studied Lauren where she lingered in her doorway, unmoving, rumpled and sexy as hell, with trepidation pouring off of her. But there was interest in her eyes, attraction in the air between them, that morning had done nothing to dissolve. And Royce knew that no matter how many excuses he’d given himself for why he’d stayed, why he was still here the open window that made no sense, the assignment from her father, the egg and the champagne that had come with a sense of menace he was here for her; he’d simply been unable to force himself to leave. Lauren intrigued him, enticed him, and in short, took his breath away.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I helped myself to your coffee pot.” he said, when the silence stretched onward.

  As if his words had somehow released her from a spell, she let out a breath, and her entire body seemed to ease with the act. “Yes. I mean no. You made coffee which makes you my new best friend right about now.”

  Pleased with that answer, Royce headed to the kitchen to snag her a mug. He returned to find her seated at the table in the chair across from the one he’d occupied. Her head rested on one of her hands, elbow on the table, the other massaging her temple.

  He placed a Snoopy mug that he’d found in her cabinet in front of her, and sat down next to her, rather than in his prior seat. He shook the bottle of pills in his hand and drew her attention. “I dug around and f
ound these in your spare bathroom cabinet.” He dumped two aspirins in his palm and held them out for her to take.

  Surprise etched her features as she searched his face and then reached for the medicine. “Thank you,” she said, cutting her gaze to the vanilla creamer he’d swiped from the fridge. She poured some in her cup and downed the pills with the hot, sweet mixture.

  “You’re uncomfortable with me being here.”

  Her gaze jerked to his. “No. No. My head hurts and… ” She stopped and stared into her cup, palms now wrapping around it. “And I… you know.” Her lashes lifted and she seemed to be lost for words, something he was sure the well known dynamo prosecutor rarely struggled with.

  “Tell me,” he prompted.

  “Oh well, heck. I’ll just say it. I’m a little embarrassed about last night. I wasn’t exactly proper.”

  Still honest, minus the alcohol. He’d expected her to be more guarded, expected maybe everything would change with morning light, that she wouldn’t be near as enticing as he’d thought the night before. But she was just as refreshingly different from what he’d expected from her today, as she had been yesterday. And he knew that part of what made her so appealing to him was how real she was. Perhaps the most real thing to touch his life in a very long time. He didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. Hell, he’d wanted her just as much or maybe more than she had him. Seeing her so excited had made him burn for more. Her trust meant more to him than acting on that desire.

  “Come here.” He turned his chair and held out his hand in invitation. She looked at him, nervousness in her eyes. He drew her hand into his, tugged gently, and softly added, “Please.”

  For a moment, he thought she would refuse but satisfaction warmed him as she pushed from her chair and came to him. It took so little for her to make him want, to make him need. Such a simple gesture of her willingly sliding into his lap wasn’t so simple for Lauren though. The effort he knew it took for her to reach beyond her inhibitions magnified its meaning a hundred times over.

  Before she could change her mind, he wrapped his arms around her waist. “You have no reason to be embarrassed with me. I loved last night.”

  “But we didn’t”

  “I loved last night,” he repeated. “And since its the weekend, I would love it if you would spend the day with me.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You want to spend the day with me?”

  He nodded as he laced his fingers behind her neck and pulled her lips to his in a quick but hungry kiss. “What do you say?”

  She hesitated. “This isn’t exactly how I had this planned.”

  “Thought you could use me for a night of hot sex and be done with me, huh?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “No,” she said. “I mean yes. I mean...” She groaned.

  He laughed. “Spend the day with me, Lauren.”

  “Royce.” Her voice hinted at uneasiness. "I’m… ” She let her voice trail off, then gave a delicate little laugh. “See what you do to me? It’s not normal for me to not finish sentences. You’re very”

  “Unexpected,” he filled in, using her words from the night before.

  Her features softened. “Yes. You are very unexpected and I just really don’t know how to react to you.”

  “Honestly.” he said. “Just say, and do, whatever feels right.”

  She considered him a moment, then shook her head. “This is crazy, Royce. I’m so not your type.”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer but he asked anyway, “And what exactly is my type?”

  “Julie,” she said. “Blonde and gorgeous and curvy and”

  He kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her slowly, with delicate sensuality. “You are my type. You, Lauren.” His knuckles caressed her cheek. “Spend the day with me.”

  “You want to?”

  “Very much.”

  She leaned back and searched his face, then glanced at the clock above the bar. “Even if I agree, it’s ten-thirty. I promised to join my family for lunch at twelve-thirty.”

  “Then have dinner with me.” She hesitated, and he added, “Trying to cut and run on me?”

  Her gaze latched onto his, narrowed, “What time for dinner?”

  He smiled with his success. “Seven.”

  “Seven-thirty,” she countered, and somehow he knew it was because he’d press her into challenge mode, into courtroom battle mode, with his ‘cut and run’ comment. And he liked the contrast of sweet and spicy that was this woman, liked it so much ,too much.

  He shook his head and laughed. “Seven-thirty,” he agreed, setting her on her feet before he carried her to her bedroom and forgot dinner altogether. “I’ll drop you by your parents’ house and save you the cab money if you like.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to,” he said. And he wanted to do so much more with her as well, which was why he set her on her feet, away from him, firmly maintaining his seat. “You should go shower and get ready. I’ll be here waiting when you’re ready.”

  She blinked down at him and he saw the immediate indignation on her face. When her arms crossed in front of her, he knew he was in big trouble. “You have a very bossy way about you, Royce Walker you do know that, right?”

  “So I’ve been told on a few random occasions,” he admitted, trying not to laugh because, damn, this woman was going to put him in his place ten times over. And considering the rush of heat flooding his body, thickening his cock, and setting his imagination into overdrive, he was pretty sure he was going to like every second of it. “I promise to try and tame that part of my personality, but in this case, I’ll plead my case, counselor. I had your best interests in mind.”

  “Really?” she asked, arching a brow, and pressed her hands to her hips, opening her body language and letting him know he was winning her over. “How exactly is that?”

  He forced himself to stay seated and not reach for her, but it wasn’t easy, not at all. That imagination of his was kicking into high gear, and his zipper was stretching right along with it. “Because you see every second that you stand there looking good enough to eat, I contemplate the many reasons why I should join you for that shower. In which case, I can assure you that you won’t make that lunch.”

  Her eyes went wide, her mouth forming a silent “O” before she quickly turned and rushed towards the bedroom, her cute, heart-shaped butt demanding his attention with every step she took.

  ***

  Lauren couldn’t believe Royce Walker was sitting in her living room watching Sports Center, with her panties somewhere in the general area of his feet, she imagined. But he was, and they were, and well, at least she could face that fact feeling somewhat put together. She’d showered and dressed in black pinstriped pants, a black sweater, and sleek high-heeled boots, which beat the dress from the night before to face her embarrassment, by a long shot.

  Royce rose from the couch and quickly hit the remote, the dark stubble on his jaw somehow adding to his raw masculinity, if that was even possible. His gaze skimmed over her, taking her in with hot, hungry eyes that had her feeling pretty hot herself. “You look terrific.”

  “Thank you,” she said, unable to stop the heat to her cheeks she normally wouldn’t have experienced. It wasn’t like men weren’t everywhere in her world, using compliments and sometimes insults, to try and persuade her to help whatever their cause might be. But Royce was different, he was… just different.

  They were just stepping into her hallway, about to depart, when her phone rang on her kitchen wall. She frowned, knowing this wasn’t going to be a call she wanted. No one had her home number. She didn’t even know why she bothered with a house phone when her cell was what she lived by. Except her father, who resisted technology, and still favored land lines. Hoping it was him calling to cancel lunch, she rushed inside the door. By the third ring, she brought the receiver to her ear, only to be greeted by the sound of a clock ticking. Her stomach lurched at the familiar sound, the on
e she’d hoped to avoid when she took the call.

  Feeling Royce’s comforting hands settle on her shoulders, she blew her hair out of her eyes and replaced the receiver on the cradle.

  “Problem?” he asked, stepping so close that his body framed hers, his nearness, his touch, sending a shiver of awareness racing down her spine.

  She turned to face him, the warmth of his body radiating into hers. “No, not really. I’ve just been getting these weird calls. Probably kids being silly. Or someone angry over one of my cases. It comes with the job.”

  Royce leaned a broad shoulder on the wall beside her. “What do you mean weird?”

  “It sounds like a clock is ticking, and then the line goes dead.”

  “Huh,” he said. “And how long exactly have you been getting these calls?”

  “Maybe two weeks, and really, they don’t bother me. Well,” she hesitated, “maybe a little. I’ve been… ”

  “Been what?”

  “I don’t know,” she said as she gnawed her bottom lip. “Nothing.”

  He studied her a moment, and she worried he was going to press her, kicking herself for saying anything, but all he asked was, “Is your number listed?”

  She shook her head. “No. And it’s a house phone. Who even calls on a house phone anymore? I don’t even know why I have one. Maybe the calls aren’t even for me. Really, they can’t even be about one of my cases. No one could get the number to start with.”

  “So this is the only line you’ve gotten them on?”

  “So far.”

  “So far?” he asked. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She pursed her lips, kicking herself yet again for the verbal misstep. What was she supposed to say anyway? That the phone calls would seem silly if she didn’t have this weird sense of things going on around her that she didn’t know about yet? Or that she felt uneasy watched? That would make her sound like some wimpy, crazy female, and she wasn’t that, nor did she want to be treated like one. Her job, her life, had taught her to stay guarded, taught her not to show weakness, and yet, she was failing miserably at just those things with Royce.