Part 13 (1/2)

”What happened to your mom?”

”She died. A few years ago. Cancer.”

”I'm sorry.”

”Yeah. Me, too. But the funny thing is, I miss my grandmother so much more. I guess in every way that counts, she was my real mother.”

He kissed her, and the hand playing with her moved in earnest. Reaching over, she found him hard again. The guy was amazing.

It would soon be daylight, and she didn't plan to waste a minute of the night sleeping.

SHE DIDN'T THINK she'd been asleep but when her cell phone alarm chirped it jerked her awake. From the grittiness of her eyes and the almost light-headed feeling when she sat up, she suspected her night's sleep had been counted in minutes rather than hours.

Rob was instantly awake and sitting up, squinting at the window. Dawn had barely broken.

”What time is it?” he asked sleepily.

”Six-thirty.”

”Do you have a meeting or something?”

”No. I need to get home and shower, that's all.” In truth, she'd set her alarm deliberately early so she could avoid any morning awkwardness.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her back into the warmth of his embrace, his sleep-warmed skin coc.o.o.ning her. ”You could shower here,” he said, kissing the back of her shoulders. ”I'll wash your back for you.”

She was tempted. Yet she knew she'd done the right thing in making such a big deal of only spending one night together. He was too s.e.xy, too wonderful for her not to fall for him. And the last thing she wanted in her life was a wandering man.

She'd promised herself from the time she could understand why they moved all the time that she'd never get involved with a man who didn't stay in one place. By that very simple standard Rob was about the last man she should ever date.

So, reluctantly, she moved away, showed him a smiling face when she turned to him, kissed him once and then resolutely put her feet onto the floor. The hardwood was cold against her bare feet, and as she rose, she s.h.i.+vered. The sooner she got out of here the better.

”Will I see you later?” he asked sleepily.

”I'm not sure,” she said in what she hoped was a businesslike tone. ”I have a showing here tomorrow. I'll let you know for sure. As for today, unless somebody calls and wants a showing, I probably won't see you.”

”You're really serious about this one-night thing, aren't you?” She heard disbelief in his voice. After the astonis.h.i.+ng night they'd spent together she could understand how he thought she must be crazy. As she scrambled into her clothes she knew in her heart she'd be crazy to continue. Only pain would result if she ever let herself fall for a man like Rob.

”I have to, Rob. Don't you see? You're a rolling stone.” He didn't argue with her, merely nodded slowly, a bleakness in his eyes she didn't want to see.

As she left the room, she said softly to herself, ”And I'm moss.”

12.

ROB SCOWLED AT HIS COFFEE. It was his third cup of the day and it didn't seem to be doing the usual job of waking him up and energizing him.

After a night like last night he should be skipping and jumping like some guy in a v.i.a.g.r.a commercial. Instead he felt the way he had done right after he found out his grandmother was dead. Bereft. As though something vital to his happiness had been ripped from him.

”Get a grip,” he snarled to the French press, sitting on the counter with nothing but a sludge of pressed grounds in its gla.s.s bottom. That was kind of how he felt. As if someone, namely Hailey, had crushed every last drop of flavor and vitality out of him and left nothing but a squeezed-out lump of sludge behind.

He wasn't big on self-reflection, but for some reason she'd slipped under his skin and made him see himself in a light that wasn't entirely flattering.

Hailey had made it clear that she could never take a man like him seriously.

No. Not a man like him.

Him.

In her view, as a potential mate he didn't cut it. Not that he wanted to cut it, but it was galling to know that she wouldn't sleep with him again because of that.

And she was right, d.a.m.n it, he thought savagely as he tossed the dregs of his coffee down the sink. He wasn't mate material. Not for a woman like her, with plans for the future-and husband, kids and a family van written all over her. Probably he was irked simply because she'd decreed there'd be no more s.e.x.

He thought of that sweet body convulsing around him, of the intensity of their night together, and he thought it was a crime, a cla.s.s-B felony at least, to deny both of them pleasure like that simply because he wasn't a stay-at-home kind of guy.

Well, he wasn't a stay-at-home guy. The reason he was brooding, he suspected, was because he was bored and that made him twitchy. He needed to get back to work where he belonged and out of Fremont where he so clearly didn't.

He hobbled upstairs to his grandmother's bedroom and put on athletic shorts, sneakers and a workout s.h.i.+rt.

He'd been here for four weeks already. It was time he quit lounging and started working out. Once geared up, he headed out to the local running track. A mile in six. Trust Gary to punish him while he was on leave.

When he got to the track, there were only three other joggers. An overweight middle-aged woman shuffling along with earbuds hanging and two younger women who were chatting as they ran.

He started slowly, walking once around the track, trying to pretend there was no pain in his left thigh. Even though Hailey had-in her own sweet way-tried to keep from hurting him there was no way a man could have athletic s.e.x and not use his thigh muscles. So he was sore.

Big deal. It had been so worth it.

He broke into a jog. Making almost a circuit of the track before sweat broke out on his brow and his leg felt as if shards of gla.s.s were being shoved into his thigh each time his foot hit the ground.

The obese woman pa.s.sed him, huffing and wheezing, but outpacing him.

He made it another half a circuit by sheer grit before limping off the field cursing all the way home.

”WHAT THE h.e.l.l DID YOU DO?” Doc Greene demanded to know when he showed up for his appointment-an appointment it had almost killed him to make.

”I went jogging.”

”Are you insane? It's been four weeks. I told you no running before six weeks.”

”I'm a fast healer.” He scowled. ”Look, I lost the scrip for painkillers you gave me.” He'd chucked it out but he didn't feel like sharing that information. ”I need a new one, that's all.”

Doc Greene glared at him from over his bifocals. ”This injury involves an eight- to ten-week recovery. You are not in the condition to run.”

Rob gritted his teeth. ”I need to run a mile in six minutes before my boss will take me back.”

”Pus.h.i.+ng it too soon will only hold you back.”