Too Wicked to Keep

“If we skip the sleeping part, do my choices expand?”

His shamelessness was both infuriating and exhilarating. He had no boundaries, no limits. She couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never met anyone like him and she doubted that once he left, she’d ever meet anyone like him again.

At least, not if she could help it.

“Sorry, but that’s the best I can offer.”

He eyed her couch and then the cat, who was now stretching up and burrowing her head beneath his chin. “The guest room will be fine.”

“Good choice. Make yourself at home and I’ll show you around in a few minutes.”

Abby went into her bedroom, kicked off her high heels, then unhooked her earrings as she sauntered into her bathroom to take off her makeup and brush her teeth. Thinking it might not be a good idea to show Daniel into the bedroom while she was still wearing the sexy black dress, she pulled out her most modest pajamas, a full-length top and pants in a hazy pearl silk that she’d gotten from her mother for her last birthday.

She kept the lights off, her ear tuned for any sound of Daniel moving around her apartment, maybe looking through her things, trying to find some clue about her current life that he could use to his advantage.

He could look all he wanted—he wouldn’t find much. When she’d moved out of the brownstone she’d shared with Marshall, she’d left most of her possessions behind. The house had belonged to his family and most of the furnishings had been theirs, too. Shamed by her behavior before the wedding, she’d wrapped herself up in his world, in his things. When he died, she realized how much of herself she’d lost.

Once she’d started to come out of the fog of sadness, she’d decided to get her own place. She’d ignored her mother’s offer to pay for an interior designer, opting instead to fill the apartment herself with furniture and knickknacks that she’d picked out on her own. Even the cats were new, adopted from a shelter. She still had a few things to remind her of Marshall—like the T-shirt he used to wear to bed that she kept in a tissue-lined box in her closet—but mostly, this places was hers and hers alone.

But now, Daniel was here. In her life. In her home. Was he still in her heart, too?

She reached behind to undo the zipper of her dress and nearly jumped out of her skin when her hand met his.

“Here, let me.”

She moved to step away, but stopped. She couldn’t keep running. She’d found Daniel not only so he could help her retrieve her grandmother’s painting, but also so she could face his part in her crazy past and put it to rest. If she couldn’t endure his touch, how would she ever prove to herself that he no longer held sway over her heart, body or soul?