Isabel Sharpe - While She Was Sleeping...

Which, now that he thought about it, was one thing they had in common.

He showered quickly, stepped over and around and through kids and a hyper dachshund to pack a couple of suitcases and box his laptop and CD player, some books and CDs. All of which he loaded into his beloved red Mistubishi Lancer, declining Maria’s offer of help. She was busy in her enormous minivan, vacuuming the upholstery of crumbs and removing what looked like the contents of a McDonald’s restaurant trash Dumpster. Apparently the kids had consumed their weight in chicken nuggets over the past two weeks; Maria was great about getting them out of the house so Sawyer could have a peaceful dinner once in a while. He’d noticed her having to shush the kids more often than he was sure she did at home, and had felt badly about the guilty apology in her brown eyes.

They could all relax once he moved out. Sawyer could handle Alana.

He said goodbye to the boys, not that they noticed, still deeply involved in the finer points of annihilating each other, hugged Maria and drove west across town into Wauwatosa, then Washington Heights and Betsy Ross Place, where he found himself on edge looking for Alana’s silver Prius.

Still in the driveway. He expected to be disappointed and wasn’t. In fact, he found himself strangely exhilarated, looking forward to the challenge of tangling with her again—figuratively, at least.

He used his key to go through the side door into the kitchen and called her name a few times. No answer. In the bathroom? In the shower? Out on a walk? He grabbed his suitcases from the car and hoisted them up the beautiful dark wood staircase to the second floor and into the room where he’d spent the previous night.

Alana’s bag was still there. Which meant she still claimed the room Melanie said he could have because his large frame was more comfortable in a queen-size bed than one of the twins in the guest room.

More conflict. He’d do the gentlemanly thing and offer to sleep in the guest room, but it made more sense for him not to have to change rooms after she left.

He supposed if he tossed her things across the hall now, she’d pitch a fit that would deafen him.

“Oh. Um. Hi. Sawyer.”

Alana. He spun around, prepared for battle…and found himself reacting to her not as the shrieking shrew, but the way he’d reacted to her asleep in his bed. Her eyes were wide, anxious but not hostile. She looked slightly unsure of herself. Her rich, dark brown hair was damp—yes, she’d been in the shower—and curled gently around her face; he remembered its fragrance. She wore jeans and a clingy peach-colored sweater that reminded him forcefully of what lay underneath.

What was the point of that thought? She wasn’t merely not his type, she was his antitype.

“I, uh…” She looked down at his suitcases. “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about living here.”

“Hoped I’d changed my mind?”

“Oh.” She laughed shortly. “No, of course not.”

“Liar.” He winked, thinking maybe he could charm her into not being a pain in his…move-in.

No acknowledgment of his humor. “I guess we got off to a…weird start.”

“I guess we did. Not all bad, though.” This time he managed a we-had-some-serious-fun smile.

Nothing.

She gestured to his suitcases. “You’re still planning to live with Melanie.”

Hadn’t they just settled that? He’d try humor one more time, then he was going to get annoyed. “Oh, no. Those hold my drug, alcohol and condom supply. I’m never without them.”

No response. He sighed. “Yes, I’m still moving in. I need this place.”

“So…” She sent him a direct, challenging stare. She’d make a great middle-school teacher. Or cop. Or judge, jury and executioner. “What happened at your old place? Why can’t you live there anymore?”

He folded his arms across his chest. Nobody expects The Alanish Inquisition. “It got too crowded.”

“Lots of roommates?” He saw the suspicion and disapproval in her eyes. This guy can’t even afford one eighth of an apartment. What a piece of work. She was probably picturing drugs, orgies and animal sacrifices. What in their identical upbringing could cause Melanie to trust too much and Alana not enough? He was more curious than he should be.

“No, it was the kids.” The boy in him who’d found ways to torment his brothers during the years he lacked their strength decided to see how far he could push before she was on to him. “Once you hit four, it gets pretty noisy.”

Her eyes shot open. “You left your children? Four of them?”

“Oh, they’re not mine. I’m living with my brother’s wife. I’m pretty sure the kids are his. Most of them anyway.”

She sputtered. “You…he…she…”

“So when I met Melanie and she had this place available, I jumped at the chance to ditch them all. I needed the quiet.”

“I see.” Her outrage was at full pitch. How could she swallow all this obvious bull, but refuse to acknowledge any truths he told her early this morning? “What…do you do?”

Sawyer shrugged. “Not much of anything these days. Just kind of casting my net around, enjoying a break.”

“Well. That must be…freeing.”

“Yeah, you know, sleeping late, doing whatever I want all day.”

“But you’re able to help my sister with the expenses of living here?” Tight lips, rigid body, frosty, frosty disapproval.

Sawyer would shiver, but he’d heated into truly brilliant creativity. “I can always hit up some of the rich, married women I service if I need cash.”

“You—”

“Alana.” He took a step toward her, hand held up. Enough.

“What?” She spoke through her teeth. “This is ridiculous.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m kidding about the married women. And my brother Mark was transferred to Germany; he’s there finding his family a house. Maria and the boys needed a place to stay because their place in Menomonee Falls sold sooner than they expected, so I said they could stay with me.”

“For God’s sake.” She lifted her chin. “You made it sound

like—”

“You’d already decided I’m bad news. I was curious how bad. Apparently impressively bad.”

“Melanie said to give you another chance. I was trying.”

“By assuming I’m a jerk?”

“You acted like one.”

“Okay.” He took another step toward her. He wanted to see her eyes, watch her face change. And, yes, he was a man, to enjoy the rest of her up closer. He never got to hold her gorgeous body against him the way he planned when he woke to her a second time. “So can we start over? Without preconceptions?”

“Well. I guess.” Her color rose; she took a step back. “If you’ll stop lying.”

Grrrrr.

“I’ll do my best.” He held out his hand. “I’m Sawyer Kern, Melanie’s roommate.”

Her grip was reluctant. “Alana Hawthorne, Melanie’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you.” Their hands lingered, then separated. He had no idea what to say to her now. They’d been together an entire night, argued like an old married couple; it seemed wrong to pretend they were just-met strangers. “Uh, so this is your room?”

“Since I was ten.”

He looked around. Decorated with the sweet femininity of a butch drill sergeant.

“Melanie took out my personal stuff. I guess to get it ready for you.”

Oops. Apparently he’d jumped to judge her, too. “How long are you staying?”

She smiled with all the warmth of a nurse proffering a bedpan. “Until I’m sure you’re not taking advantage of my sister.”

He wanted to laugh. He’d moved in to protect her sister. “I’m not interested in doing that. Just in escaping four boys and a dog’s worth of chaos. When they leave, I go back home, Melanie’s fortune, house and honor intact.”

“I know I seem overprotective, but her track record with men is…” She pressed her lips together. “Anyway, I just wanted to meet you before I move to Florida.”

At least she was loyal to her sister. That was one good quality he could focus on, to keep himself from strangling her… or something else, which he wished he could stop wanting to do. “I’ll sleep in the guest room while you’re here.”

“Oh, well that’s very nice of—”

“Unless—” he gestured to the bed “—you’d like to share again?”

Her hands went back to her hips. Her brows dropped as if they had weights.

“No?” He gave her his best charmer grin. Did she have no sense of humor? “Out of luck for a repeat, huh?”

“Completely.” She held herself as if she’d had her vertebrae fused. The challenge was irresistible.

“So…no chance even for a quickie right now?”

Her eyes darkened. Her fists were going to crack her hip bones if she wasn’t careful. “If you keep harassing me like this, I’m going to—”

“Tell on me?” He took another prowling step toward her. He was being a complete jerk, but she thought he was one anyway, and he was tired of trying to be nice. Something about her made him edgy and angry and excited and horny all at once. Didn’t he say he usually went for calm women? He should go downstairs right now, move the rest of his stuff up into the guest room and act like a saint so she’d trust him with her sister and leave.

And he’d never get to touch her again.

Another step. She glanced to one side, glanced back. Glanced to the other. Glanced back. Her lips parted.

Where was the outrage now? Swamped by hormones? Was he affecting her the same way she was affecting him?

Or did she just get off on guys who were jerks?

Sheesh. If he wasn’t getting more and more turned on by her, he’d be feeling contempt. He’d be thinking women like her were why nice, non-caveman guys couldn’t get a break.

Unfortunately, now that he was one step away from her, his inner caveman was acting up. He could see the sexy indentation at the base of her throat, her collarbones peeking from her scoop neckline, the shadow of cleavage—and no, he wasn’t just looking down her shirt because he had also noticed her eyes were wide and anxious again.

Worse, her proximity brought back details of his predawn sexual raid in startling clarity. The way she’d arched and moaned, the way her hips undulated with his rhythm, the way—

“What are you doing?” Her voice came out a cracking whisper. She didn’t step back or move away; her eyes held his. Where was Ms. Dragon Lady now?

“I’m…” What was he doing? “…going to kiss you.”

His words snapped her out of whatever human form she’d taken. “What?”

He winced. Did she have to make so much noise? “Did you not hear?”

“I heard fine. Now, you listen to me.” She had the gall to thrust a finger at him, as if he were nine and she was his den leader. “You’re here living with my sister, and you are absolutely not allowed to take any advantage of—Mmph.”

Kissing her was the most polite way he could think of to shut her up. Certainly the most appealing.

Her lips were warm and clung to his, and what was supposed to be a single me-man, you-woman kiss turned longer. His hands moved, one over soft hair to rest behind her head, one over soft fabric to press her curving body against him.

He’d just learned something. Calm women, the kinds he liked, the kinds he’d always dated, were calm when they kissed, too. Not this set-me-on-fire passion. He broke the kiss for a second, then went right back in, not able to get enough.