Chapter 7
Storm sat up. She couldn’t see. Darkness covered everything. Her heart raced without warning, stealing her breath and dosing her skin in sweat. Her mind forced its way through her sleep fog to remember where she was.
The noise reminded her first. A chainsaw cut through wood loud enough to wake the dead. A dim gray light, she hadn’t noticed sooner, from the digital clock on the table beside her reminded her second. She was safe, and Harlan was asleep on the floor because the bed was empty.
Stubborn man.She would have been fine sharing the bed. She had asked enough of him already. She didn’t need to make him more uncomfortable. She had liked the idea of a man his size in the bed near her anyway. Her ex-husband was just average size and build. Nothing anyone would look twice at. Well, she had a long time ago, but he had been funny back then. An entire life could not be built on a good laugh. Not when that same person became envious of all her success. So much so he had resented her for climbing the academia ladder. Her pieces had been published first with better acclaim. She had been asked to speak and guest lecture when he hadn’t. They separated when he was passed up for Provost because he thought she was gloating. Maybe she was by that point. When she had been awarded the position of president, he nearly had a stroke.
These few hours with Harlan had restored some sense of peace. He was like a shield or a cloak around her just being the guy with the most muscles. And the military thing. She had wanted him in the bed. And when he had made that comment about wanting her hands on him, heat had rushed into her cheeks. It was all she could do not to moan on the spot.
She pushed back the blanket that he must’ve covered her with. No one had covered her with a blanket in ages. Her ex certainly hadn’t cared enough. Storm slid out of bed and padded around to the other side. She hadn’t even bothered to change her clothes when he had left the room. She had only wanted to put her feet up and close her eyes for a second. She must look a fright. She needed some light and opted for the reading light on the headboard. She fumbled around until she found it.
Harlan blocked the way to the bathroom. She debated on waking him so she could pass by, then decided answering nature’s call was more necessary than his sleep.
“Harlan.” She kept her voice at a whisper and nudged his calf with her toe. His skin was warm and his muscle flexed under her touch. That calf was rock solid. He didn’t budge. The snoring continued.
“Harlan.” She put more power in her voice and nudged him harder.
He coughed and sputtered but didn’t wake. She tried again, raising her voice. “Harlan.”
His arm shot forward as if it were a viper and not his appendage. His hand gripped her ankle like a vise. She lost her balance and fell back on her butt with a hard smack. He sprung up, his eyes wide.
“Hey. It’s just me.” She scurried to her feet, putting space between them, and rubbed her tailbone.
He stood too. His gaze held hers, but it took a second for him to register her. “Sorry about that. Old habits, I guess.” He ran a hand over his face.
The front of his hair was slightly askew. He wore the rest cropped so close it wouldn’t move in a brisk wind. She wondered what his hair would feel like under her touch. He had swapped out his dress clothes for basketball shorts and a black t-shirt that had been vacuum sealed to his pecs.
“I’m sorry that I startled you.” She willed her heart to slow.
“Are you okay?” His gaze trailed over her in a languid line from head to toe. A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. Her heart paid no attention to her pleas to ignore this man’s sensual stare and galloped right along.
The circumstances confused her logic. She couldn’t be attracted to someone she didn’t know. Her life turned into a whirlwind only a few days ago and she needed something to drop her hat onto until the world made sense again. It would stand to reason she would twist fear into arousal. Arousal was much easier to deal with and more fun. Fear… fear was never something she was good at.
“Um… I’m fine. I needed to use the bathroom. You were blocking the way. I tried a couple of times to wake you…” Her words disappeared. She couldn’t possibly say she had been checking him out.
He stepped to the side and let her pass. She hurried past him and closed the door behind her, engaging the lock. She cupped water in her hand and slurped down a few gulps, dripping some down her chin and onto her shirt. She needed to pull herself together before she did something she regretted, like kiss him. Because she wanted to. Nothing made sense anymore.
What would Harlan want with her? She had little to offer a man who had built a life on adventures. She was a bookworm and devoted to her job. She only went outside to walk across the campus. He probably scuba dove and could swim the English Channel. He was probably good at everything because he was clearly athletic and military. She got knocked down every time a wave so much as foamed over her feet.
“Storm, are you okay?” Harlan knocked on the door.
“Fine.” She flushed and washed her hands. When she opened the door, he waited just on the other side with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Are you sure? Can I get you something?” He tilted his head. His gaze searched her face. He was always assessing her, as if trying to get inside her brain. She wanted to share things with him, tell him her life story. He must have this effect on everyone.
“I’m good. Sorry, again, about waking you.” She scurried past him and debated on hopping into bed in the clothes she’d had on since she left California. She wanted to put on something more comfortable than her dress pants and sweater.
But he was standing there watching her, taking up all the air. The room was suddenly too small and she wished for some space to herself. But that wasn’t going to happen right now. She would have to settle for changing in front of him.
She fumbled with her suitcase. He leaned over to help her, but she put a hand up to stop him.
“I’m good. Thank you. I want to put on some pajamas.”
“Oh. Sure.” He backed away.
She pulled out a pair of silk pajama pants and wished she had brought an oversized t-shirt, but her only sleep top was a tank. There hadn’t been enough time to pack efficiently. Her bra would have to stay on.
“Would you turn around?” She made a circle motion to go along with her request. As if the man didn’t know what turn around meant. Honestly. Nothing worse than a woman explaining her words to whoever was listening. Like the time her neighbor, Jennifer, defined the meaning of a BA to her. A BA of all things. To a college president.
Harlan smirked and turned with his hands up in surrender. She stole a glance at his backside. She could probably bounce a quarter off his glutes. She needed to stop looking at once.
“Thank you.” She threw off her clothes and tugged on her pajamas before jumping under the blanket.
She wasn’t afraid of being alone any longer, but she was feeling something else. Something she should stay away from where a stranger was concerned. One-night stands had haunted her a long time ago before she had pulled her life together. She would not do that again.
He left the bathroom light on, pulling the door nearly closed. Now the room had a soft glow and she could make him out in the dark.
“Can I ask you a favor?” He stopped at the corner of the bed.
She hesitated. It would not be fair to say no to his request. He had offered her multiple favors tonight. But favors often came with a large price tag. “Sure.”
“Can I sleep with you?”
“You mean…”
“I mean sleep. Nothing more. The floor is awful, and I have this old war wound.”
“Ah, the war wound story.” She smiled in spite of herself. He was rather charming, such a dangerous combination—charming, handsome, chivalrous, and protective.
“That’s a real story. I can’t tell you the details, but I can show you the scar.”
“The one on your knee?” She had noticed it when she had taken inventory of him moments ago.
“Not that one. The one on my knee I got on a different mission. That time I fell off the ship’s deck to the one below. Blew out my knee.”
“You fell off the deck?”
“I was coming to the ship from a helicopter during a vicious storm. The ocean was as rough as the winds. The copter fought against the weather, but not well. When I released my harness to jump, I wasn’t positioned over the deck the same way. Happens,” he said with a shrug as if everyone jumped from helicopters in the middle of the ocean.
“If you say so.”
“My other scar is on my back, right below the waist of my shorts. That’s the wound that makes sleeping on the floor difficult.” He turned and tucked his fingers into the waistband.
“You don’t have to show me. I believe you.” She pulled the blankets up to her chin. She resisted the urge to cover her eyes altogether. She did want to see, yet she did not.
“I promise to stay on my side of the bed. You can put pillows between us, blankets, whatever you want.”
“Oh, all right.” As if him sleeping beside her was a hardship. “I’ll use the blanket you left me. Thank you for that.”
“You’re very welcome.” His deep voice could be coated with molasses, and God help her, she wanted to taste his sweetness.
“You can sleep under the bedsheets. Then we won’t touch,” she said. Though touching him in the dark on this crazy adventure was very appealing.
“Thanks. My back appreciates it.” He pulled back the comforter and slid onto the bed. The mattress sighed under his weight. She could imagine the feeling.
“Good night.” She turned her back toward him and pulled the blanket closer. She held her breath and stayed perfectly still. Years had passed since she had a man in her bed she wanted there.
Harlan shifted beside her. “Sleep well, Storm.”
If she slept at all.