Was she out of her mind? Arms full of white linens,
Trella shut the closet door with her foot. She entered the guest room, piling
the linens on the nearby nightstand. The man was dangerous to her peace of
mind, and she invited him to spend the night.
She slid the fitted sheet over the pillow-top
mattress. She stared at the center of the bed, seeing instead the man with
dark-chocolate eyes who towered over her.
When she’d opened the front door and saw him
standing there, she couldn’t stop herself from seeking warmth inside his arms.
Her fingers itched to roam through the thick, rebellious waves of
midnight-black hair. For one crazy, irrational moment, she wanted him to kiss
her, to feel his lips on hers—a connection to another person she hadn’t
experienced since Louis.
She smoothed the cool Egyptian cotton. Her dear,
sweet husband. Theirs had been a marriage filled with laughter and friendship.
Louis had been a tender lover, but they never had passion between them. Which
was fine with her. She had no desire to love someone so completely she risked
neglecting her own life.
But even while she sensed the impetuosity of passion
lurking beneath Carlos’ quiet surface, she’d been unable to resist its call.
The brush of their fingers in the kitchen had turned her insides to liquid
heat, leading her to do something stupid—like asking him to stay.
She slid two plump down pillows into pillowcases.
Thankfully, she wasn’t Carlos’ type. Every woman she’d ever seen him with was
tall and slim.
Carlos walked into the room, jeans hinting at the
muscles of his powerful thighs. “You didn’t have to dress the bed for me.”
Dragging her attention from his body, she noticed
the black overnight bag he carried in one hand. “You’re providing peace of
mind.” She shrugged. “We’re even. Towels are in the bathroom.”
He set the bag on the floor, the form-fitting white
t-shirt straining against his biceps with the movement. “What type of alarm
system do you have?”
She frowned as her mind made the leap from his
biceps to formulating a response to his question. “Um, a standard one.”
“Does it cover windows, too?”
“Only doors, I think. This was Louis’ domain. He
just gave me the code, and I was happy.”
Carlos nodded. “You need to take a more active
approach to your safety, Trella.”
She sighed, sinking onto a black leather bench at
the foot of the bed. “Sometimes, it’s hard to think about things Louis
handled.”
He put a large hand on her shoulder. “I’ll help
you.”
She glanced down, noticing his clean nails. A tingle
went through her, and she wondered why he’d never married. He certainly had
plenty of females to choose from.
Catty much? She squared her shoulders, and his hand
fell away. She rose to her feet. “The remote for the TV is in the top drawer of the
nightstand.”
“Thanks, Trella.”
She left the room, praying her lapse of common sense
was temporary.
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