An eternity later, she finally admitted to being too sore to do anything other than eat. They ordered something to be delivered to the room, and whatever it was, he ate it while watching VJ as she entertained him with stories about small town life. She had a glow so strong and beautiful, the camera would pick it up easily, and he had a possessive sense of pride for being responsible.
He also had a responsibility to end this thing quickly. Passion this strong would fade faster than normal, and he was terrified of what would happen when it did. He had no intention of sticking around to find out.
After both plates were clear, she yawned. “Thank you for the wonderful birthday. It was the best present ever. I’m afraid I’m about to crash. Is this the part where we say good-night?”
“Absolutely not.” The force of his denial surprised him since he’d been about to send her off to her room. Where had that come from? Sleeping alone was habitual. Necessary. Lonely. “Forget about the other bedroom. Get your things. Move them. That door is off-limits.” He thrust a finger at the offending door. “I want to watch you fall asleep in my arms.”
Yeah. He did. Just until he went back to L.A. This whatever-it-was with VJ had blossomed into more than he’d been prepared for but with the promise of escape at the end of the week, he could handle it for a few days. It wasn’t like moving in together, which he’d never tried with anyone.
“Okay. If you insist.” She smiled, and it was treacherous. “I did want to try one other position. In the morning. You know, spoon style. Unless you want to try it now?”
On cue, the shoulder of the bathrobe fell to her elbow.
Ten
At dawn, Kris drew the drapes from the bedroom window and settled back in bed to watch the colors of the sunrise bleed into the indigo above the Dallas skyline. VJ woke long enough to snuggle up and then fell back asleep with her tousled head in the hollow of his shoulder. It was disconcerting how easily she fit and how easily he suspected he could get used to it.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched the night disappear into day. Small, restive pleasures were a luxury he’d forgotten in the rush of everyday life. Normally, he was out of bed and doing stuff by now. Restlessness VJ called it, and somehow, she’d tamed it. With a warm and willing woman in his bed, it hadn’t seemed so important to bolt into the chaos yet.
Plus, he was stalling.
At 8:03 a.m., Kris eased out from under VJ’s head and placed it carefully on the pillow. She sighed and flipped over onto her back, pulling the sheet down to her stomach and exposing that gorgeous butterfly. Small bruises dotted her neck and discolored the fragile tissue of her breasts. Guilt ate at him. Then he remembered. She could take it. Wanted it. Begged for it. He nearly crawled back in to indulge in sleepy, morning sex. Spoon style.
But he didn’t.
Out in the living area, he found his phone on the coffee table and flipped to the M’s, then hit Call. It rang eight times. On the ninth ring, Kyla finally answered.
“Hey,” she said and barely sounded hung over at all. World-class acting even without the camera in front of her.
“Hey.” He paused, weighing how to approach the subject of VJ. With Kyla, nothing was simple. “Sorry. It’s important or I would have waited.”
“I’m still in bed, babe. Nothing’s that important. Unless you’re coming over to join me?” The hopefulness in her voice crawled on his last nerve and raked it raw.
“I met someone.”
And that’s what happened when he let Kyla rile him. He blurted out stuff he shouldn’t. A loud clatter greeted the announcement, which was better than the cursing he’d expected.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m sitting up. So that’s why it took you so long to call. Can you give me a minute to find some coffee before you throw something like that on me?”
A few simple words and suddenly, the situation teetered on the edge of becoming a huge problem. Kyla did not like that he’d met “someone.” “Listen, Kyla. I’m not going to do the fake engagement. I can’t. I never liked the idea.”
She was quiet for a minute and then exhaled in a long stream, likely smoking the first cigarette of her two packs a day. “Have you told Jack Abrams yet?”
Of course that was her first question. Digging, to find out how far he’d taken it. “Don’t worry. You still have a job.”
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you, darling. Have you thought this through?”
“Yes, I have.” He gritted his teeth before he called her a liar. She never worried about anyone other than herself.