In the light of day, something I’d never seen him in, I found I could swim in those eyes.

Swim in them forever.

Yes.

This had to stop.

Immediately.

I should have stopped it last night. The night before. The one before that.

Instead, last night, I’d stayed. In the dark, powerless against the pull of a living daydream. Being normal. Having something real. Cuddling with a man after you’d had great sex with him. Speaking to him. Falling asleep with him.

So I’d made a big mistake.

I’d stayed.

And right then, he was coming closer.

I pushed back and dropped my gaze to his fingers wrapped around my clutch resting on the bed between us.

I looked at him again. “You have my purse.”

His head tilted to the side and he pulled back a bit.

I completely ignored the pain even a three inch retreat from Nick caused.

“Your phone’s been ringin’,” he informed me. “Just stopped. But it’s the third time it went this morning.”

I felt my brows draw together and I shifted up, holding the sheet to my chest and looking to the clock on the nightstand.

Just after nine o’clock. Late for me. Early for anyone to call repeatedly on a Sunday.

Those kinds of calls were never good.

“Damn,” I whispered, reaching for my clutch that I noted with gratification I also ignored that he hadn’t opened. “I need to see if something’s up.”

His hand disappeared. I grabbed my purse and got out my cell while he spoke.

“Ordered room service. They say half an hour, forty-five minutes.”

“Right,” I murmured, seeing three missed calls and three voicemails, all from Georgia, all coming in the expanse of ten minutes.

This made me unhappy.

Since our altercation, I’d avoided her and she’d avoided me. I’d done this by not going to the warehouse. She’d done this by not confronting me about not going to the warehouse.

Obviously, she was done avoiding me. The problem was, I wasn’t done avoiding her.

This wouldn’t matter. If she was done, I might be able to say a few words to make my feelings clear, but eventually I’d have to find a way to be done too.

I pushed up to rest my back against the headboard, taking the sheet with me, looking Nick’s way.

He was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

He was also looking at me.

“I have to call my sister,” I informed him.

“Unh-hunh,” he muttered but said nothing else and didn’t stop looking at me.

I should probably ask for privacy. Nick Sebring had a business that involved a variety of specialties. Information was one of them. Anything I had to say to Georgia or Georgia had to say to me was none of his business. But he’d be listening because it could be somebody’s business.