Minutes later, she was still in his arms, trying to catch her breath. After her experience of being with this man twice now, she'd come to the realization that making love with him was nothing short of explosive.
"We did it again," she said, opening one eye to look at him.
He reached for her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. "Perhaps it was unreasonable to stay in the same hotel and expect to keep our hands to ourselves."
She thought back over the evening, at her attempts to resist. "We almost made it."
He laughed. "We nowhere near made it. But at least you're relaxed now."
"You're right," she said and stretched. "And if I tense up in the studio, my happy place is happier than ever."
"Tense up? Then you're not relaxed enough. How about I do something about that..."
He reached for her again and, smiling, she went to him.
Eleven
Dylan had fallen asleep, sprawled across both the bed and her, but Faith was wide awake. She wouldn't let herself fall asleep with him. She'd glimpsed heaven with him tonight, and it had made her face something.
He wasn't just her happy place. He was more than that.
She was in love with him.
Sleeping in his arms was her idea of paradise, which was why it would be emotionally reckless. How could she stay ahead of the eight ball and protect her heart if she indulged herself in sleeping beside Dylan's warm body? She couldn't let her guard down and lose her independence in whatever it was they had between them.
From the experience of her childhood, she knew she had a tendency to become attached more often and more deeply than other people did, and she'd done it again by falling in love with Dylan. He would be moving on at some point-people always did-and in the meantime the idea of coming to rely on him for anything, including letting herself fall into a routine of sleeping beside him, frightened her witless. Anytime in her past that she'd started to feel that she belonged somewhere, it had all been ripped out from under her. The path toward letting herself relax and get sucked into the belief that this could be permanent held only heartache.
She slipped out from under his arm-pausing when his breathing changed and he rolled over-and picked up her clothes. After she was dressed, she grabbed her purse and, with one last look at his sleeping form half draped by the covers, quietly slipped out of the hotel room.
She checked her watch. Ten past two a.m. The flower market would be open. She headed down to the lobby and caught a cab. Checking out the San Diego flower market had been on her list of things to do while she was here-perhaps not this early in the morning, but she was grateful for this way of keeping her mind off the man sleeping in her hotel room. The man she loved.
An hour later, she had a call on her cell from Dylan.
"Where are you?" he asked, his voice raspy from sleep but with an edge of concern.
She covered her other ear with a hand to hear better. "Down at the flower market."
"On your own?" Suddenly he sounded fully awake. "Jesus."
"I wanted to check them out."
There was scuffling on the line as if he was dragging on clothes. "Why didn't you wake me? I would have come with you."
Because that would have defeated the purpose of finding some breathing space. "I'm fine, and you needed the sleep."
"I'll come down there." From his tone, he was already set on his course of action.
"No need," she said quickly. "I was just about to leave." It was true anyway-she was about done, and she wanted some time back at the hotel before having to head to the studio.
"Hang tight. I'll send a car for you."
"I can catch a cab."
"The car will be there in a few minutes. I'll call you back as soon as I've ordered it, and we'll stay on the line till you're back here."
"You know," she said wryly, "this isn't my first visit to a predawn flower market."
"Indulge me."
She sighed. He wasn't going to give up, and in all honesty, it was nice that he was trying to ensure her safety. "Okay."
By the time she made it back to the hotel, Dylan was waiting in the lobby. He hauled her into his arms and held her until she could barely breathe.
"Hey," she said. "I need a little air."
He loosened his grip and led her to the bank of elevators. "Sorry. When I woke and couldn't find you...and then found you were out in the city in the middle of the night..." He punched the Up button and the doors swooshed open. Once they were inside and he'd hit the button for her floor, he gathered her against him again. "I can't remember the last time I was that scared."
She'd had no idea that he'd be so worried. That he cared that much. She rested her head against his shoulder and let him hold her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."
"Tell me honestly." He tilted her chin up so she met his gaze. "Why did you go down to the markets?"
It was as if she could see the universe in the depths of his green eyes, and in that moment she couldn't lie, not even to protect herself. "I needed a little space."
A bell dinged and the doors opened. Neither of them said a word until they were in her room again. Dylan headed straight for the minibar and grabbed two orange juices. He handed her one, then took a long drink from the other bottle before asking, "Space from me?"
"From us," she said, choosing her words with care. "Sometimes when I'm with you, it's intense."
He thought about that, putting his juice down and taking hers as well. Then he found her hands and interlaced their fingers. "What if we decided to give this thing between us a go? What would you think about that?"
Her pulse jumped. He cared enough to try? Although it was impossible, it meant so much that he wanted to. "We can't." She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. "The fraternization policy."
"Screw the policy," he said without hesitation.
She coughed out a laugh. "It's your company. You can't be that cavalier."
"What's the point of being one of the owners if I can't?"
"You want to change a policy that's doing some good in creating a safe workplace and protecting staff from unwanted advances, just because you want to get involved with an employee?"
"Okay, it doesn't sound good when you put it like that. But I want to spend more time with you. I want us to be together." His eyes were solemn as he cupped the side of her face with his palm. "Is that what you want?"
Was it what she thought was in her best interests? No. What she thought would last? No. But he'd asked what she wanted. And she wanted nothing more than to be with the man she loved, so before she could stop it, a whispered "yes" slipped from between her lips.
He stepped closer and kissed her forehead tenderly. "Then we'll find a way."
Her heart squeezed tight. He sounded so determined that she didn't have the heart to say it didn't matter. She'd be moving on. Or he would be. One of them would leave; it was the way these things worked.
But maybe she could enjoy the time they had together? Just because she couldn't have forever didn't mean she couldn't have for now.
So she decided to ignore the consequences, and instead nodded and smiled and said, "I'd like that."
* * *
Five weeks later, and Faith's life was going well. Almost too well. When things fell into place this easily, it often preceded a fall, so part of her was on guard. The San Diego job was amazing-she'd become relaxed in front of the camera, and had been getting great viewer feedback on her segments. And spending more time with Dylan was her very favorite part of each day.
She was just shoving a vegetable lasagna in the oven when her cell rang. Dylan was due in about half an hour for dinner, so it was probably him letting her know he was leaving the office. Since the first trip to San Diego, they'd fallen into a pattern of spending more time together, usually at his place. They'd order takeout, maybe watch a movie, then make love, and she'd slip out and head home afterward, determined to keep her vow of not getting used to sleeping next to his warm body.
Tonight was the first time she'd agreed to have him visit her apartment. Things had been going so well, she'd let her guard slip and agreed when he'd suggested it. Her stomach was a tight ball of nerves as she wondered how she'd cope when she couldn't leave during the night. Which, of course, was probably why Dylan had suggested it...
She pulled the oven mitts off and grabbed her cell, but it was an unknown number on the screen.