This woman had listener written all over her.
Tucking her into bed, alone, was the smarter move. “I’m talking wake-ups every two hours in case you have a concussion. It’s easier if we stay in the same place, rather than me tromping through the parking lot in fifty below wind chill to wake you up to count my fingers.”
Strawberry-red crawled up her face. “You must think I’m a paranoid granny.”
“I think you’re alone and don’t know who to trust.” Hell no, she wasn’t paranoid. He wanted nothing more than to rip the bedspread off one of those mattresses and tangle his body with hers. But a rivaling need churned inside him, a need to protect her, find out who had handled this woman so carelessly.
He tipped her chin with his knuckle. “I promise, I’m not going to jump you while you’re passed out.”
Did she know that she kept moving ever so slightly against his touch while she stared into his eyes? Just when he considered extending his reach and cupping her face in his palm, she nodded, leaning back. “Thank you. Again.”
“Okay, then.” Restless, Jacob stood and paced around the room, snagged her coat, turned the heat down. He yanked the door open. “Let’s get moving.”
Frigid air blasted them. The wind nearly lifted Dee off her feet like Mary Poppins. Jacob allowed himself to drape an arm around her shoulders as they charged across the parking lot, sleet and snow stinging his skin.
Lord, she felt good against him.
Inside the lobby, Dee dipped from under his arm without meeting his gaze. “I’ll just get some extra sheets,” she mumbled as she all but sprinted for the supply closet.
Jacob shut off the coffeemaker and followed slowly. He found Dee tucking the beddings along the sofa cushions. He braced a shoulder against the archway leading from the hall to the living area. “Thanks. But I can take care of that myself. I’m going to catch up on some paperwork out front, then I’ll probably end up falling asleep in the recliner.”
She didn’t stop.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Dee sank to the edge of the couch and slid off her shoes. “Going to bed?”
“Right. Bed.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward the loft. “In case you hadn’t noticed, it’s over there.”
Her jaw set. “Your bed is over there. My bed is here.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her tennis shoes thumped to the floor. “I knew you would be this way. Don’t you get tired of being so predictable? Stop with the male strutting ritual. A recliner isn’t a bed. If your feet hang off the edge of the motel room beds, you really can’t expect to fold yourself onto this sofa. I’m almost half your size. The couch is fine for me.”
The woman would argue with a rock.
“Dee, I’m going to be up most of the night anyway. You might as well be comfortable.”
“I won’t be able to sleep if you’re on the sofa or in a chair.”
Jacob almost laughed. Her eyelids were millimeters away from sliding closed. She’d be asleep sitting up if he kept talking.
He shifted his weight to one leg. Why not let her think she’d won? He could move her after she zonked out, probably less than sixty seconds from now. “Okay. Have it your way. Enjoy the couch.”
“Thanks. I will.” She lined her shoes with precision beside the sofa. After a self-conscious glance over her shoulder, she whipped the sweater over her head, unveiling the T-shirt beneath.
Carefully she folded the sweater into an exact square and put it on top of her pile of meager possessions. Seeing her take such care with cast-off clothing, Jacob wanted to buy out Macy’s.
Dee slid beneath the sheets, tugging the blankets up to her chin. He watched her eyelids flicker. Just sixty seconds and temptation would be deeply asleep.
Jacob shoved away from the archway and flipped off the light switch, leaving only the fluorescent bulb over the stove on. Moonbeams filtered in through the skylight over his bed.
Sixty seconds suddenly seemed like a hell of a long time.
Burrowing deeper under the blankets, Dee flattened her spine against the sofa back. “Hopefully by tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in my own bed. Or maybe I’ll be curled up in some bay window, watching the snow and drinking hot cocoa. I think I like hot chocolate with whipped cream. It sounds good, anyway.” She sighed, a heavy sound full of resignation. “Someone’s got to notice I’m missing soon. A person can’t simply disappear without somebody noticing.”
“Sure,” he lied. He’d seen enough cruelty in the world to know otherwise.