But there was something so compelling about this man. Something that reached out to her in a most disturbing way. Maybe it was the thinly masked pain that flashed in those celestial blue eyes when she caught him off guard. Or maybe it was just her years of psychology training that couldn't stand the thought of having such a troubled soul in her home and not helping him.
She didn't know.
The grandfather clock in her upstairs hallway chimed one. "Goodness," she said, shocked that it had become so late. "I've got to get up for work at six."
"You're going to bed? To sleep?"
Had his mood not been so dour, the stunned look on his face would have made her laugh. "I need to."
His brow drew together in…
Pain?
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Well, then, I'll show you where you can sleep and-"
"I'm not sleepy."
She started at his words. "What?"
Julian looked up at her, unable to find the words to tell her what he felt. He'd been trapped in the book for so long that all he wanted to do was to run, or to jump. To do anything to celebrate his sudden freedom of movement.
He didn't want to go to bed. The thought of lying in darkness another minute…
He struggled to breathe.
"I've been resting since eighteen ninety-five," he explained. "I'm not sure how long ago that was, but by the looks of things, it has been quite some time."
"It's two thousand and two," Grace supplied for his information. "You've been 'sleeping' for one hundred and seven years." No, she corrected herself. He hadn't been asleep.
He'd told her that he could hear anything said around the book, which meant that he had been awake and locked up all this time. Isolated. Alone.
She was the first person in over a hundred years that he'd been able to talk to, or be with.
Her stomach tightened in sympathy. Even though her prison of shyness had never been tangible, she knew what it felt like to be somewhere listening to people and not be a part of them. To be on the outside looking in.
"I wish I could stay up," she said, stifling a yawn. "Really I do, but if I don't get enough sleep, my brain turns to Jell-O and I can't think for squat."
"I understand. At least I think I get the gist of it, though I'm not sure what this Jell-O and squat is."
Still, she could see his disappointment. "You could watch TV."
"TV?"
She picked up his empty bowl and rinsed it off before leading him back to the living room. Switching on her set, she showed him how to flip channels with the remote.
"Incredible," he whispered as he surfed for the first time.
"Yeah, it is kind of nifty."
Now, that should keep him busy. After all, men only needed three things to be happy-food, sex, and a remote. Two out three ought to satisfy him for a bit.
"Well," she said, heading for the stairs. "Good night."
As she started past him, he touched her arm. Even though his hand was light, it sent a shock wave through her.
His face impassive, raw emotions flickered in his eyes. She saw his torment, his need, but most of all she saw his loneliness.
He didn't want her to leave.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, she said something she couldn't believe. "I have another TV in my room. Why don't you watch that one while I sleep?"
He gave her a sheepish smile.
Julian followed her up the stairs, amazed that she had understood him without his speaking. That she would consider his need not to be alone while she had her own concerns.
It made him feel strange toward her. Put an odd feeling in his stomach.
Was it tenderness?
He didn't know for sure.
She led him into an enormous bedchamber with a large four-poster bed set before the middle of the far wall. A medium-sized chest of drawers was set opposite the bed and on top of it was, what had she called it, a TV?
Grace watched as Julian walked around her room, looking at the pictures on her walls and dresser-pictures of her parents and grandparents, of Selena and her in college, and the one of the dog she'd owned as a child.
"You live alone?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, moving to her Jenny Lind rocking chair by the bed where her nightgown was draped over the back. She picked it up and looked at him, and the green towel still wrapped around his lean hips. She couldn't very well let him join her in bed like that.
Sure you could.
No I can't.
Please?
Hush, self, let me think.
She still had her father's pajamas in her parents' bedroom where she kept all their possessions enshrined. Given the breadth of Julian's shoulders, she was sure the tops would never fit, but the bottoms had drawstrings and even if they didn't fit in length, they would at least stay up.
"Wait here," she told him. "I'll be right back."