Christmas in His Bed: Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell. Carrie Alexander
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we could make an appointment to talk in private—”
“I’ll happily make that appointment if you can tell me he was not one of your residents.”
Pam chewed her lip, painfully aware of all the people watching them now. This was the nightmare she’d been trying to avoid. She tried dancing around the truth, knowing before the words were out of her mouth that it wasn’t going to work.
“He isn’t—in fact, he has a nice town house on—”
“But he was, wasn’t he, Pam?” Martin sneered.
“That’s enough—enough already,” Ted stepped in. “What’s wrong with you people? I lived at the shelter, yes. I got myself together at a point where I needed some help. Maybe you all have had it easy, but it’s not like that for everyone. I have a job, and a home, and a wonderful woman to share my life with. Besides that, I don’t see how this is anyone’s damned business but our own. Pam’s done nothing she needs to explain to any of you, and neither have I.”
Pam looked up at Ted, shaking her head, the questions in her mind bursting out before she could stop them.
“Why? Why would you say all that?”
Ted jerked back as if she’d slapped him. She wanted to take back the words—or maybe not. The public declaration left her no wiggle room, no place to hide. Everyone knew now, and while that might be fine and dandy for Ted, the lives of twelve other people who hadn’t quite gotten their feet under them still depended on her.
Now that the cat was out of the bag, she knew they’d be losing donor support left and right. How would she manage to keep the shelter open? What would happen to those people who lived there? This was terrible.
“I’m sorry,” Ted offered in an overly controlled tone of voice that didn’t quite mask his hurt. “I said it because it’s true. Why should they be attacking you because you didn’t want to date this guy?” He glared at Martin again. “We’re consenting adults—we don’t owe anyone explanations.”
She nodded, not knowing what else to do, unable to say a word. Mr. Douglas solved that problem again.
“Well, while that may be the case, and you certainly are free to date whomever you wish, you can forget what we talked about earlier, Ms. Reynolds. I had questions about supporting your organization as it was. Considering this new development, I know that I for one do not want to be associated with such a scandalous arrangement.”
“Mr. Douglas, you don’t understand—”
“I understand very clearly.”
With that, he turned and left. People started clearing away from their table, murmuring and whispering, leaving only Ted and Pam looking at each other hopelessly.
“What now?” Ted asked miserably.
Pam shook her head. “I don’t know, Ted. I just don’t know.”
JOY DIDN’T WORRY ABOUT her dreams that night because she didn’t fall asleep. Even though she’d assured Rafe that she didn’t want to engage in any more sensual explorations that evening, they’d shared a glass of wine, a tentative kiss good night, and he’d left.
She wanted to be relieved, but she wasn’t. All she could think about was how his erection had weighed in her palm, how thick and hard he’d been, and how his desire had touched her at depths of need she hadn’t known she had.
She could recall the nuance of every moment, how he’d kissed her, the sounds he’d made, as if he was really enjoying himself, really turned on by her—and the end result seemed to imply that was the case. Still, that wasn’t so unusual for guys, right? It was easier for them.
It was much more difficult for her to think about giving herself over that way. The incident by the door was easy—it was all about him. Though she couldn’t fault him for offering to do his part—truth was, she was scared.
She was also excited.
She was a mess, actually.
Though she’d sent him home tonight, she’d agreed to fun. She was hoping maybe she really could reach down and find the key to loosening up with a guy like Rafe. Could she enjoy being with a man who appealed to her, and her alone? Someone who tempted her to take a chance? She blocked the recurring thought that her father would give her “that look” if he knew she was carrying on with an unemployed ambulance driver.
Her father wasn’t here, and she was an adult woman, making her own choices. Pam was right—Joy needed to take control and stop worrying so much about what her father would approve of or not, or if her dates met some weird, invisible standard of perfection. That way of thinking hadn’t exactly led to a stellar love life so far.
Tossing to the other side of her bed, she threw the blanket off, sweating, though cool night air was drifting in from the screen. She hesitated, wondering if Rafe was watching her. The erotic possibility had her squeezing her legs together, trying to quell the need that pulsed through her.
Was he over there, as hot as she was? Lying awake, wondering about her? Wishing he was here with her? Or did the satisfaction she’d helped him find earlier lead him to the night’s rest he so ardently desired? Selfishly, she hoped he was wide awake.
She sank her teeth into her lip. Fun. It might be fun to pull the curtain to the side and switch the low light of her closet on, illuminating the room slightly, enough so he could see. Could she do it?
Do you ever have any fun?
Rafe’s question taunted her in the darkness, and she thought maybe she could have some fun right now. She could tempt him from the window. If he was watching, maybe he’d come back over and help her ease the ache that was keeping her awake, and they could have some fun together.
Her heart beat erratically in anticipation, and she turned the light on low, knowing no one else could see down the side of the house unless they were right outside. Or in Rafe’s house. It would be a private show.
Slipping her nightgown from her body, she crawled back onto the bed, lying back and drumming up the courage for what came next, when she heard a knock at the door.
“Wow, that was fast,” she commented with a grin, launching herself out of bed and grabbing her robe on the way downstairs. As she belted it, she wondered if maybe she should abandon it and answer the door naked—that would be fun, right?
It would also mean standing in her doorway with nothing on—while it was the middle of the night, you never knew who might be walking down the street. It was enough that she was naked underneath.
Her hands trembled slightly as she turned the burnished brass knob, feeling like the naughtiest girl alive for beckoning a man from her window. Swinging open the door with a smile, she stepped back, her mind blank with surprise when she didn’t find Rafe, ready and willing, but Pam, sobbing and miserable.
“Pam! What happened? Come in. Oh, my god, honey, what’s wrong?”
Pam’s makeup was streaked and her hair was disheveled, as if she’d run her hands though it repeatedly.
“I broke my shoe on your stair,” she said between sobs, and somehow Joy knew that wasn’t the source of her friend’s unhappiness.
“Come here, sit down. I’m sorry about your shoe, but what happened?”
Joy grabbed a box of tissues on the entry table and handed them to her.
Pam blew her nose noisily and took a few gulping breaths, then managed to croak out a few clear phrases, not looking or sounding like the canny, self-assured woman Joy had always known.
“Oh, Joy.” She took another deep breath, her body shaking with the effort to control her sobs. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now….”
“Listen, how about a glass of wine and we can talk?”
“I—I’m