“My aunt will be worried if I’m too late.”
“I seriously doubt that. Your aunt seemed like the understanding type.”
“Yes, well, I have some things to do tomorrow. I need to get some sleep tonight.”
“You can sleep here,” he suggested, sounding as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Call your aunt and tell her you’ll be there in the morning. I’ll take you home after we share a nice breakfast.”
Spend the night? Wake in his arms? Have him smile at her over the breakfast table? Oh, no. That was definitely not the way to rid herself of silly daydreams. It sounded, instead, more like a way to create them.
“No, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” she said, slipping out of his grasp. “I have to think about Jeffrey.”
“I’m not going to change your mind, am I?” he asked in resignation as he watched her scramble into her underthings.
She pushed her arms into the sleeves of her pantsuit. “No.”
Sighing, he rolled to the opposite edge of the bed. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll take you home.”
Blair kept her eyes on the floor as she searched for her missing left shoe. She heard Scott pad into the bathroom and close the door, followed by the sound of running water. By the time he came out, she was fully dressed, her hair was brushed and she had straightened his tumbled bed.
“In a bit of a hurry?” he asked, buttoning his shirt.
Again, she found she was having trouble meeting his eyes. She wished she had her antacids—she could use one right now. “It’s getting late,” she repeated, finding nothing new to say.
He stepped in front of her, his hands gently gripping her forearms. “Blair—take a deep breath.”
Though she wasn’t sure why he’d said that, it seemed easier to comply than to argue. She inhaled deeply, then released the air slowly. Some of the tension eased from her shoulders.
“Feel better?” he asked with a slight smile.
“I’m fine.”
“Sudden regrets?”
“Not regrets,” she corrected quietly. “Misgivings, perhaps.”
“About what?”
She shrugged and tried to speak lightly. “Oh, you know me. I thrive on worry.”
He didn’t look amused. “I don’t want to cause you anxiety.”
There was no way she could honestly promise him she had no anxiety where their relationship was concerned. But she could assure him that she was fully capable of handling her own problems—especially those she had brought onto herself. She smiled faintly. “I’m fine,” she repeated. “I just need to get home to Jeffrey.”
He didn’t look entirely satisfied, but he nodded. “I’ll take you home.”
As if sensing that she needed time to process what had happened between them, Scott kept the conversation breezy and impersonal during the hour-long drive to her house. He told her story after story of adventures he’d experienced during the past few years, often turning his humor against himself to make her laugh. It startled her that she did laugh more than once during the ride.
Scott didn’t mention their lovemaking again until they were standing outside her door. He cupped her face gently in his hands. “We’re going to have to talk about tonight, you know. We can’t keep pretending nothing happened.”
“I’m not pretending. I just need some time to decide exactly what did happen,” she admitted ruefully.
Scott’s smile was wry. “You’re going to dissect and analyze every moment we’ve spent together tonight, aren’t you, Counselor? You’ll probably list pros and cons and project every possible outcome—and go through an entire roll of antacids in the process.”
She couldn’t help smiling, though she felt her cheeks warm. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m getting to know you better than you thought, hmm?”
“Perhaps.” Did he know that she was in love with him? Did he care?