“When were you in the army?” She felt she had to say something, because just sitting there was awkward, and if you couldn’t talk to a man when you were in his lap, then when could you?
“A long time ago, when I was young and macho.”
“Why did you join? Or were you drafted?” She had no idea when the draft had been abolished.
“I joined. I didn’t have any money for college, so that seemed like the best way to get an education. Turned out I had a knack for things military. I would probably still be in if I hadn’t stumbled on a knack for the stock market, too. The stock market is a lot more lucrative, and I wanted money.”
“Well, you have it now.”
“Yes, I do.”
His body heat was seductive, melting her bones, leaching strength from her muscles. She felt herself sinking into him, molding to him like soft gelatin. The departing chill left her limp and sleepy, utterly relaxed. Not even the hard ridge forming under her bottom could alarm her. She yawned and stuck her cold nose into the warm curve where jaw joined neck. She felt him give a little jump, but then his arms tightened.
She should get up. She knew she should. This was asking for trouble. She wasn’t a child, and she knew how sexual this situation was, and how much more sexual it could become. But the warmth . . . ah, God, the warmth! She was comfortable for the first time since getting out of bed that morning, more comfortable, truly, than she had been in a long time, at least a year. An electric blanket didn’t provide the same kind of heat as another body, didn’t reach all the way down to the marrow of her bones. The army knew what it was about, making its young soldiers cuddle.
She yawned again and felt a chuckle rumble in his chest, his throat, though it never actually made it out. “Go to sleep,” he murmured, deep voice soothing. “I’ll take care of you.”
Sweeney wasn’t a trusting soul; a solitary woman couldn’t afford to be. But she didn’t have a moment’s doubt that Richard was a man of his word. She could feel sleep coming, heavy and delicious, and she gave herself up to it with a little sigh. “Don’t let me sleep past one o’clock,” she said, the words slurred, and closed her eyes.
* * *
One o’clock? Richard stifled his laughter. A glance at his wristwatch told him the time wasn’t yet eleven-thirty. Sweeney evidently saw nothing wrong in expecting him to hold her in his lap for an hour and a half and let her sleep, disregarding all concern for any cramps he might develop or appointments he might have. The thing was, she was right. He would rather be right where he was than any other place he could think of.
His cell phone was in his coat pocket. Using his free hand, he carefully reached inside the jacket without disturbing her, though the back of his hand brushed her breast, which disturbed him. He ignored his aching erection and flipped open the flat little phone, pressing the buttons with his thumb. “I won’t be going out to lunch,” he said quietly when Edward answered. “Pick me up at one-fifteen.”
“Very good, sir.”
Richard ended the call and folded the phone. Sweeney stirred and nudged her nose against his neck, but didn’t open her eyes. She was truly, deeply, asleep.
He shifted into a more comfortable position, settling his shoulders and easing his head back against the couch. He was going to be here awhile, so he might as well relax and enjoy it. Holding Sweeney on his lap was definitely enjoyable. He had a sneaking idea she had no clue how appealing she was, with her big blue eyes and curly mass of hair, but he had always thought she was one of the most attractive women he’d ever met. Not beautiful—attractive. People liked to look at her, talk to her. Men would have been swarming all over her if she had ever given any indication she was aware of them as men, not just sexless acquaintances. She was an expert at keeping people at a distance, blocking any but the most superficial contact.
Until yesterday. He didn’t know what had happened, but suddenly he had known her blinders were gone and she was aware of him personally, emotionally, sexually. God knows he had been aware of her, standing there with that red sweater molded to her breasts and those blue eyes getting wider and wider as she listened to the McMillans. He had almost been able to see some irrepressibly scathing comment welling up in her throat, because she was known for saying what was on her mind. In the world he moved in, such spontaneous honesty was so rare as to be almost nonexistent. People guarded their words and stuck to the polite, the politically correct, the inane. He knew Sweeney tried to be polite, but as she had said yesterday, her tolerance level for bullshit was really low.
She made him grin. Hell, she made him laugh. He had the feeling he could spend every day with her for twenty years and not know all of her quirks or exactly how her mind worked.
He liked her. He had dated other women since he and Candra had separated, but he had been careful to keep any relationships casual, and in fact hadn’t really liked any of the women. Enjoyed them, yes, even been aroused by them, but he had never felt any of them could be a friend. Maybe that was why he hadn’t slept with any of them, which Candra would never believe, and in fact he astonished himself with his reticence. He missed sex. He wanted sex. He was so horny he was going through the torments of the damned, holding Sweeney on his lap, but the truth was he had turned down a lot of opportunities.
Legally, he was still married. He couldn’t forget that. The marriage was over—he could barely tolerate being in the same room with Candra—but until a judge ruled the marriage was dissolved, he wasn’t a free man. It wouldn’t be fair to any woman to start a sexual relationship with her knowing he wasn’t able to offer more. Until yesterday, when he had met Sweeney’s eyes and felt that zing of attraction, it hadn’t mattered. Now it did.