Waking Nightmare by Kylie Brant

Author:Kylie Brant
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2011-04-09T21:00:00+00:00

They made it to the bed. Eventually. And then spent the next few hours exploring and exploiting each other’s bodies until they fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, limbs still entwined. When Abbie opened her eyes, early morning light was seeping in the room from beneath the shade. And she had the thought that little could be as anticlimatic after a night of mind-blowing sex than to wake up alone.

But she was wrong.

As she sat up in bed, she realized two things simultaneously: She wasn’t alone. But it would have been infinitely easier if she were.

Ryne stood in the doorway, clad only in his pants, a towel clutched in one hand, his shirt in another. His chest was still damp. His wet hair looked like he’d only finger-combed it. The shadow on his jaw had deepened; he hadn’t availed himself of the disposable razors in the bathroom. He looked rumpled, sexy, and dangerous.

And extremely ill at ease.

Her earlier disappointment was swallowed by dismay. The expression on his face had her scrambling for defenses. There could be little as demeaning as being someone else’s regret.

Deliberately, she looked at the alarm on the bedside table, while tugging the covers to a discreet level. “It’s late. You’ll have to hurry to make it back to your place to change and get to the daily briefing.”

“It’s Saturday.”

Her eyes closed briefly. Of course. Which meant she couldn’t depend on the pressing need for work to defuse the tension. It was a struggle, but she managed a level tone. “I forgot. I’ll be at the station within the hour. I know you’re as anxious as I am to see Larsen’s reports as soon as they come in.”

He hadn’t moved, so she pulled the sheet loose to wrap around her shoulders as she slipped from the bed. She knew it was ridiculous, but she wasn’t up to parading by him buck-naked. She felt exposed enough as it was.

“Abbie.”

His voice was low, the awkwardness in his stance evident in the tone. Because there was no way to avoid it, she forced herself to meet his gaze.

“Last night was . . .” He hesitated, as if searching for words. She wanted, desperately, to hear him finish that sentence, even while she feared what he might say. Last night was what? Wonderful? A mistake? But the adjective he chose really didn’t matter. Her eyes had been wide open last night, figuratively, at least. She knew exactly what they could have between them. And what they couldn’t have.

“Last night doesn’t change anything,” she said clearly. “We work together. Nothing can cloud that.”

He couldn’t quite mask the flicker of relief that crossed his features, and she felt a sardonic sort of amusement. Nature should have equipped men with built-in parachutes to assist them in dealing with sticky morning-afters. They could just go out the window and avoid having these conversations altogether.

She moved toward him and he stepped aside to allow her through the doorway. “Give me an hour and I’ll meet you downtown, okay?” If he made a response, she didn’t hear it.

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