“No.”
“Yes, you do. Greek goddess, right?” He laughed then. “The look on your face... You didn’t like it.”
“No, I didn’t,” she admitted.
Michael was sitting so close to her his leg rubbed against hers. It was odd, she thought. As sexy as Xavier was, she hadn’t reacted to him the way she reacted to Michael. Even his scent aroused her. Who knew a whiff of soap could be so seductive?
He looked into her eyes, and she suddenly felt as though he could read her thoughts. Thank God he couldn’t because then he would know how sex-crazed she became when she was near him.
“It seemed like it all happened such a long time ago. Shooting that man, getting stitches, performing with Xavier.” And you, she silently added. You happened, too. “It has all blended together.”
“You’re handling it with grace.”
He was wrong, but she didn’t tell him so. Inside she was constantly struggling to keep it together.
He put the supplies away, grabbed a white T-shirt from his duffel bag, and put it on.
Isabel fluffed the pillow, pulled the sheets back, and lay as close to the edge of the bed as possible so that Michael would have a little room.
“Are you tired tonight?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
Maybe that was why he was acting as though sleeping with her wasn’t going to be a problem. He was exhausted from the long flight from Boston and the long day he’d spent with her. He probably hadn’t had any sleep in thirty-six hours.
Was being with her a chore? she wondered. Had he drawn the short straw in the Buchanan family and got stuck with her? Maybe she should just ask. She didn’t have to hide her real reactions and pretend everything was all right when it clearly wasn’t. She could be honest with him.
So why hadn’t she talked to him about that viper Amanda? Might as well get it out in the open now.
“Michael, Amanda asked me to sing at your wedding.”
A scowl crossed his face when he responded. “Yeah, I know. Regan told me.”
She waited for him to say something more, and after a minute or two realized he wasn’t going to. Who was he angry with? Her? For telling him about Amanda’s request. Or Amanda? For asking.
She broke the silence. “I told her no.”
He nodded as though she had just given him some serious news he needed to mull over. She felt like shouting at him. Why does she think she’s going to marry you?
Michael’s words were measured when he finally answered. “Sweetheart, I was never going to marry her, and she knew that. We haven’t been together in a long time. I saw her when I was in Boston, which wasn’t all that often. I was convenient for her, and she was convenient for me. That’s all there was to it.”
She couldn’t stop herself from asking. “Am I convenient?”
He laughed, surprising her. “No, you’re not convenient. You’re a pain in the...”
She smiled. “Thank you.” For lying, she silently added.
Michael turned the bedroom lights off. With the drapes closed, the room was pitch black. He opened the bathroom door a crack to shed a sliver of light on the floor, then got into bed. Rolling to his side, he quickly pulled her up against him before she went flying to the floor, and anchored her with his arm around her waist.
“Will you be able to sleep like this?” she whispered. “I could move to the chair. It doesn’t look too lumpy.”
“I won’t be able to sleep unless I know you’re close.”
“Do you think I’ll leave during the night?”
“No,” he answered. “I need you close,” he repeated curtly. “Now go to sleep.”
She tried. She really tried to relax and drift off to sleep. Counting sheep, relaxation techniques, replaying boring speeches she’d had to sit through in college... counting sheep again. Nothing worked.