And yet there was Elena, too, a constant presence beneath his thoughts. A sensual awareness that he couldn't shake, and that he told himself he didn't want.
But he did.
Damn him, he really did.
She was still on his mind when he finally made it home at half-past three in the morning. The house was dark except for the flicker of the muted television and the bathroom light in the hall, kept on always at Faith's insistence.
He saw Elena on the couch and started to speak, then realized that she was asleep. Gingerly, he tiptoed past, then walked quietly to Faith's room to check on the little girl who was snoring softly and cuddling Cracker Jack, a stuffed lemur that had become her newest lovey.
He bent to kiss her cheek, then gently closed her door, leaving only a crack, before heading back to the living room. "Hey," he said, bending over and placing a light hand on Elena's shoulder.
He shook her gently. "Time to go," he whispered, then sucked in a surprised breath when she shifted in her sleep and reached for his hand. She made the kind of soft noise that made a man hard, then drew their joined hands to her lips before gently pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
Electricity arced through him, but he stood frozen, afraid that if he even breathed he'd lose it. But oh, how he wanted to move. Wanted to touch her. Wanted to wake her, then kiss her.
Wanted to do all sorts of things he shouldn't want to do at all. And yet he did want to. He wanted to desperately.
Finally, he stepped back, gently tugging his hand free. He didn't try to wake her again. Instead, he told himself that she was fast asleep. But it wasn't a convincing lie; he knew damn well that the only reason he didn't send her home was that he liked having her in his house.
He pulled an extra blanket from the basket by the television, then draped it over her. Then he went to his own bed and tried to sleep.
Instead, he tossed and turned, though at some point sleep must have caught up with him, because he was startled awake when his alarm went off at eight.
With more alacrity than usual for a Sunday morning, he sprang out of bed, then grabbed his robe before heading into the living room. He expected to see her, of course, and when he saw that the living room was empty, he couldn't shake the hollow feeling, as if he'd suffered a profound loss.
He told himself it was just the shock of a change of plans--he'd intended to make waffles for her and Faith--but of course that wasn't it at all. He'd wanted to see her. More than that, he'd wanted Elena to be the first person he saw that morning, even before seeing Faith.
"Not good, Sinclair. Really not good."
"What's not good, Daddy?"
He painted on a smile as he turned to his daughter. "Hey you, sneaking up on me. How was it last night with Elena?"
"She made me spaghetti, and we baked cookies and played games," she said. "And I won all the hide-and-seek!"
"I bet you did." He listened to her chatter on about where she hid and the silly songs they sang and the intricate process of making perfect slice-and-bake cookies. Then he plunked her on the counter while he made them both waffles before sending her out to the front yard to retrieve the Sunday paper. They settled down on the sofa, and he read the news while she looked at the funnies and the ad inserts. After that, they went to the grocery store, and he supervised the cleaning of her room.
All in all, a typical Sunday, until the doorbell rang at one, announcing Elena's return.
"Elena!" Faith called when Brent opened the door for her.
"Hey, kiddo." Elena knelt, then wrapped her arms around the wriggling little girl. She held tight to Faith as she looked up at Brent. "You should have woken me. I didn't mean to camp out in your living room. Sorry."
"No worries. You looked so peaceful that I didn't want to disturb you." Not exactly the truth, but it would do.
"I had the strangest dream," she said, making his stomach tighten. Surely she hadn't really been awake.
"
Yeah? What was it?"
She shook her head. "I can't remember. Just that it was strange. But nice." She flashed that wide, beautiful smile, and he felt himself go weak in the knees. He really did have it bad. Damn.
"I was sorry you were gone when I woke up," he said, though the words had escaped of their own accord, and he immediately wished he could call them back.
"Yeah?" She didn't look freaked out by the strange admission. Instead, she looked pleased.
"I make a waffle to rival your dad's. I'd planned to make one for you, too."