Hailey's Hero. Judy Duarte
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the decent side of him said.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get the bedding for you.” She drew away, leaving him with the lingering scent of lilac.
While she disappeared down the hall to a linen closet, Nick plopped down in the easy chair and sank back into his seat. The evening had taken a lot out of him, but it wasn’t just the spilling of tears and memories that had affected him. Something else had zapped the energy out of him, weakened him like he’d stayed in a sauna too damn long. He’d never been that close to an emotional woman before. At least not one that wasn’t yelling and throwing things at him.
He stood when Hailey entered the room and helped her make up a bed on the sofa, but they both remained quiet. Lost in their thoughts.
And their regrets, he supposed, although he didn’t regret the kiss. Not really. His real regret was the damn erection that continued to plague him.
She glanced down at the bed they’d made, then looked up at him and smiled. “Good night.”
“Night.” He stood there for a while, long after she took one of the candles, padded down the hall and closed the bedroom door.
He figured sleep would be a long time coming, but he slipped out of his pants and draped them over the easy chair in the corner.
Usually, he slept in the raw, but tonight, as he settled onto the sofa, he figured it best to wear his briefs.
Hours later the flame in the fireplace had dwindled down to a soft red glow, and although he was tired, sleep evaded him. He stared at the ceiling and continued to contemplate the woman who slept down the hall.
When a scream sounded from behind the closed bedroom door, he jumped from the sofa.
“No!” Hailey shrieked.
A nightmare or an intruder?
He flung off the blanket and rushed down the hall, ready to battle whoever or whatever had frightened her.
Chapter Four
Nick threw open the bedroom door, only to find Hailey sitting upright in bed.
Alone.
No intruder.
A candle flickered on the dresser, bathing the room in soft, muted light. And the scent of lilac and lavender filled the air.
She wore a white satin nightgown with tiny straps that outlined near-perfect breasts. Her hair, rumpled from sleep, tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She looked ready to cry.
And in need of comfort.
Don’t get too close, the rebel in him warned. What the hell do you know about comforting women? Turn around and go back into the living room.
But the decent side of him stepped forward, leading him closer to the bed. “Are you okay?”
“I guess so.” A tear welled in her eye, then ran down her cheek. She swiped it away. “Did I scream?”
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