A Home of Her Own. Brenda Novak

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      MIKE HEARD his bedroom door open and lifted his head in surprise. He lived alone. The woman who did the cooking and cleaning took weekends off. Which left only one possibility.

      Squinting to make out the shadowy figure standing in his doorway, he swallowed hard. Sure enough, it was Lucky. And when she didn’t say anything, he had a funny feeling he knew what she wanted.

      “Is something wrong?” he asked, hoping he could get her a glass of water or another blanket. He’d tried to make her smile earlier—but this…this was a little more than he’d bargained for.

      “No.” She sounded uncertain. He might’ve supposed that she was frightened or insecure, but he reminded himself that Lucky couldn’t be either. Not with the way she looked, and not at twenty-four.

      He knew he should scare her away, but with every heartbeat it became more difficult. He leaned on his elbows to get a better glimpse of her and felt his pulse go crazy. She wore the sweatshirt he’d set out for her earlier. But, like last night when he’d pressed her against the wall, she didn’t have anything on underneath it, except maybe a pair of panties.

      The thought of her panties didn’t help him hang on to his sanity.

      He had to say something that would cause her to withdraw immediately, before his desire took control.

      But if he rebuffed her, he’d humiliate her.

      If he didn’t rebuff her…

      He let his breath hiss out between his teeth. He could barely think above the racket his heart seemed to be making. If he didn’t send her away it was probably no big deal, he told himself. She’d been raised by the town’s most notorious hooker. Showing up in a man’s bedroom probably wasn’t anything new for her. And maybe he wanted her here, but it wasn’t as if he’d invited her.

      “Can’t you sleep?” he said, stalling.

      “No.”

      Briefly, he tried to summon the self-control to send her back to her own room. But the overabundance of testosterone suddenly flooding through his body muddied his thoughts, made him reckless. Any resolve he’d managed to muster fled the instant he imagined how embarrassed she’d be if he were to turn her away. Somehow it was easier to give in to what he really wanted if he looked at it as some sort of kindness.

      “Are you still cold?” More stalling on his part.

      She nodded but didn’t ask for a blanket. Neither did she apologize for interrupting him and duck out of the room. There was no mistake. She was making him an offer and, heaven help him, he didn’t think he could say no. It was the temerity of her stance that was his undoing. He wanted to take her in his arms, reassure her that she’d read his signals correctly.

      “Want me to keep you warm?” he asked and lifted the blankets. Because he’d turned up the heat for her sake, he wasn’t wearing anything except his boxer briefs. If this wasn’t what he thought it was, she’d certainly turn back now. But she didn’t. She came toward him.

      When she reached the edge of his bed, she quickly pulled off the sweatshirt and dropped it on the floor. Then for a few seconds she stood in front of him wearing only a pair of lacy white panties.

      The sheer beauty of the woman she’d become stole his breath. It had been a long time since he’d made love, too long. Yet, oddly enough, he hadn’t realized it had been much too long until now.

      “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

      She shook her head, but he couldn’t believe she or anyone else could disagree with him on that, and he wasn’t really looking at her face anymore. He let his gaze drift appreciatively over the rest of her while making one last feeble effort to talk himself out of making this mistake. He’d pretty much given up dating. He couldn’t seem to fall in love like everyone else. But he missed having an active sex life and, mistake or no, he wasn’t about to reject Lucky now that she was standing next to him almost naked….