Chapter Thirteen #2
He grabbed the half-empty bottle of water and downed it. It was then he noticed the scrap of fabric discarded on the counter. The way Cilla had peeled it off and tossed it aside was burned into his memory. A deep pink blush had colored her cheeks, but there’d been determination in her eyes.
He picked up the garment and held it to his face. It smelled faintly of roses, of Cilla. The thin straps, the soft fabric were too delicate for his large, rough hands, but like the woman who wore it, it was stronger than it looked.
She wouldn’t appreciate Rosa finding it and having to explain how it had gotten there.
It was a flimsy excuse, but it didn’t stop him from slipping into her bedroom.
The covers were bunched down by her feet, kicked aside in her restless sleep.
His mouth went dry at the sight of her slender back and rounded behind.
He gave a low, hungry groan before clamping his jaw shut.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he’d taken a step toward the bed before he stopped himself.
Doomed—that was his future. There was no way for it to be otherwise.
Maybe in a hundred years, possibly a thousand, her memory would fade, but he doubted it.
He was destined to remember what he’d briefly had and lost. That was to be his eternal punishment for standing aside and allowing her destiny to unfold.
He placed the garment on her bedside table before easing the sheet over her. She didn’t stir, deep in the sleep of the innocent.
Hardening his heart, he walked away.
…
Cilla blinked and shaded her eyes. Why was it sunny in her bedroom? The sheet slithered to her waist when she bolted upright in bed. She’d overslept. She never overslept! And she was naked.
Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. When she pulled her knees toward her chest there was a slight twinge, unused muscles complaining about the unexpected late-night activity. They’d really made love. It had been spectacular. Scratch that. It had been blow-the-paint-off-the-walls incredible.
Had she really been that brazen? She’d practically thrown herself at Alex before yanking off her top and standing before him half naked.
Raising her head, she looked down at the wrinkled sheets, unable to stop the slow smile spreading over her face.
Last night had been the wildest of her life. One she’d never forget.
There was no sign of Alex. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or grateful he’d slipped out at some point. Her stomach knotted, but she ignored it. No regrets, remember? He’d never promised more than last night.
Determined to be an adult about it, even if it killed her, she swiveled around until her feet hit the floor. When she reached for her phone to check the time, she saw her sleep cami sitting beside it. The knots in her belly unfurled. He’d retrieved it before he’d left.
She glanced at her phone and winced at the time. It was half past eight. Rosa would already be here. What would she think? Get it together, Cilla. A shower was first on the agenda. She was hot and sticky and smelled like sex.
Like Alexiares.
Swallowing a moan, she ignored the way her nipples stood at attention and staggered into the bathroom.
Her hair was a wild mess of tangles. Leaning forward, she peered in the mirror and studied her face.
Did she look different? She couldn’t tell if her lips were swollen or if it was her imagination.
What was impossible to miss was the sleepy satisfaction in her eyes.
“You look like the cat that ate the canary.” Or a woman who’d been well loved.
There was no way Rosa would miss it. Praying a cold shower would help hide the signs of last night’s activities, she jumped in the shower and washed in record time.
She was already behind on her list of chores for the day and didn’t have time to dally.
Not to mention her body was overly sensitive, each touch a reminder of what she and Alex had done last night.
Already heating up again, she dried her hair and pinned it on top of her head. Forgoing makeup, she hurried to her closet and pulled on her usual workday outfit of knee-length shorts and a sleeveless top before shoving her feet into canvas shoes.
The bed needed to be stripped, but she wasn’t ready to deal with it. Not until she’d had about a gallon of water and a giant cup of coffee. Putting off facing Rosa would only make the situation worse.
What if Alex is in the kitchen?
Muted sounds from the kitchen assured her someone was there. Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and opened her door.
Rosa stopped filling muffin cups with batter and gave her a long, slow perusal.
No remnants of the passionate lovemaking from the night before remained, but heat crept up Cilla’s cheeks.
She silently cursed her fair complexion and her inability to handle the morning after like a sophisticated adult.
She held up her hand before the inquisition could begin. “Not a word,” she cautioned when she stepped out of her room and into the kitchen, closing the door firmly behind her. “Not until I’ve had coffee.”
Rather than be put off by her abruptness, Rosa canted her head toward the full coffeepot. Grateful, Cilla headed toward the life-giving liquid.
“Not like you to oversleep. You must’ve had a late night.” Innuendo was ripe as she resumed scooping batter into the muffin tin. “And dare I ask why I found a baseball bat on the counter this morning?” When she didn’t respond to her friend’s teasing, Rosa’s eyes narrowed. “Do I need to call Cal?”
The nastiness from yesterday overshadowed the ecstasy that had come later last night.
As much as she wasn’t looking forward to the retelling, Rosa needed to know.
She wasn’t only Cilla’s employee but her best friend.
Mug filled, she slid onto her usual kitchen stool. “Chief Johnson was here yesterday.”
Rosa wiped her hands on a clean kitchen towel. “Where’s Alex?”
“I’m not sure.” It took a second for her caffeine-deprived brain to catch up to the implication. “Wait. He’s not the reason I called the police.” She took a sip of coffee to give herself time to settle. “He helped me.” He’d been a strong shoulder to lean on when she’d needed it most.
“We’ll talk about that. But if Alex wasn’t the problem, then who?” she demanded, hands on her hips.
Cilla didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to remember, but this was Rosa. “Christopher.”
“What did that slimebag want?”
It was an apt description. Giving in to the inevitable, she gave a concise account of events.
“That bastard. And Richard the day before. There has to be something you can do.” She shoved the filled muffin tin in the oven and set the timer.
“I have an appointment with my lawyer early next week. I already spoke to her about Richard’s latest visit.”
“I can’t believe your ex paid for a damn survey and then bullied his way in here.” An empty muffin tin slammed down onto the counter beside the bowl. Wielding the empty scoop like a sword, she pointed it at Cilla. “He had no right to put his hands on you.”
“He grabbed my arm.” She automatically rubbed the tender spot. The bruise was small but noticeable. “He wanted my attention.” And he’d gotten it. It was easy to sugarcoat it, but no amount of pretending would change the determined look in his eyes and seriousness of his threats.
“I’m handling it the best way I can.” Pain squeezed her skull, a combination of stress and hunger. She hadn’t eaten since lunchtime yesterday, unable to get down much of anything at suppertime. “Right now, I want to put it behind me and focus on what I can control.”
With a sigh, Rosa came around the island and wrapped her arms around Cilla. “I’m sorry that happened.”
“Me too.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she returned the hug and tried to smile. “How much longer until those muffins are done?”
She glanced at the timer. “Eighteen minutes.” After giving her back a gentle pat of encouragement, she returned to her task. “If there’s anything I can do…”
“It’s best if you don’t get involved.” If Rosa got hurt because of her, Cilla would never forgive herself.
“If either of those men shows their faces around here again while I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. And”—she held up a finger for emphasis—“I’ll be recording it.”
Warmth spread through Cilla’s chest. She might not have many close friends, but the ones she had were pure gold. “Thanks.”
“You got it.”
After draining her coffee, she scooted off the stool. “I’m going to change my sheets while I wait for the muffins.”
“Don’t for one second think I’m forgetting you look like a woman who spent the night tussling with a man, in the best way possible.”
A surprised laugh slipped past her lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“It’s your duty to share the details with your friend, a friend who has been in a year-long dry spell, I might add. I’m assuming it was Mr. Hottie from upstairs.”
There was no stopping her face from flushing.
Rosa fanned a towel in front of her face. “That good?”
“Better, but he’s not staying.”
Her friend shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy each other while he’s here.” She motioned to a rack on the counter behind her. “I have muffins already cooling. “Why don’t you sit back down and have one? We don’t have any guests checking in today. There’s no rush.”
Deciding she wanted the company of her friend more than anything, she sat down and smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.”