“Yeah.”
“This is a big bed. It’s big enough we could share it,” she said. “No need to suffer on the couch.”
Oh, he was tempted. “I’m fine, Holly.”
“Seriously. It doesn’t have to mean anything other than a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was tight as he fought to maintain control of his desire to climb the ridiculously narrow stairs to the loft over his head. “Go to sleep, Holly.”
“Simon?”
He counted to five before responding. “Yeah.”
“Your mama taught you well.”
If Holly only knew how much he wanted to take her up on the offer to share her bed...
It was just as well, she didn’t.
She was the client.
He was a damaged ex-soldier with PTSD issues.
It would be best to keep his distance from the pretty bayou babe who believed in Voodoo and magic.
Chapter 5
Tired from being on her feet for eight hours, Holly expected to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
That didn’t happen.
She lay still, staring at the starlight reflected off the bayou, dancing across the ceiling. Every noise drew her attention. Not because of the possible danger she could be in, but because of the really hot guy lying across her couch below. Her curiosity burned in her veins, making her wonder what he wore to sleep. If he even wore anything.
Her core flamed, and her curiosity got the better of her. Easing out of the bed proved to be noisier than she’d anticipated. She’d barely rolled over when the bedframe creaked.
After pausing for a moment of silence and a chance to listen, Holly moved again, sliding off the bed onto the floor where she crawled to the edge of the loft, rose on her knees and peered over the rail.
Simon lay on his back, his hands laced behind his head, wearing only a pair of shorts, his bare, muscular chest a shadowy blue in the limited light filtering through the windows. “Everything all right up there?” His voice cut through the shadows, startling Holly.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” she said. “However, you don’t look very comfortable.”
“I’m great,” he said.
“If you were so great, why are you still awake?”
“I could ask you the same,” he shot back at her, though his tone was soft.
“I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened tonight,” she said, lingering at the rail, not ready to go back to bed when she could stare down at masculine perfection.
Perfection she couldn’t touch. But it didn’t hurt to look.
“Cody won’t bother you again. You’ve proven you can take care of yourself.”
“Cody wasn’t always such a bully. I don’t know why he all of a sudden thinks I should belong to him. He never pushed the limits when Paul and I were dating. Then again, I didn’t stick around after Paul died.”
“I’m sorry about your boyfriend,” Simon said. “And your parents. That had to be hard to lose them all so close together.
She nodded, though he probably couldn’t see the movement in the murky darkness. “It was hard. But with Paul, I went to his funeral. Saw him at the viewing. He was well and truly dead. My parents’ boat capsized. Their bodies were never recovered.”
