Mad About You

frustration, then strode to the bathroom. When the door closed, Virginia sagged onto the bed, hugging herself hard. How could she be so stupid? Having Chad meant having to see Bailey regularly. It was going to be hard enough on her without adding casual sex to the equation.
    She hurriedly cleared her bed, turned off the lamp, and climbed in, intending to be fast asleep when he emerged. But adrenaline was still pumping through her body when he opened the bathroom door. Unable to resist, she watched him move by her bed and across the room in the shadows.
    The light from the window provided enough silhouette to reveal he'd wrapped a towel around his waist. He paused by his bed long enough to fling back the covers and drop the towel. Virginia squeezed her eyes shut and listened to the creak of springs as he lowered his big body onto the old mattress. She counted as he punched his pillow four times and rolled over twice before settling down. Same old routine, she thought sadly, minus the part where he'd lay his hand on her stomach before falling asleep.
    As pain ballooned in her chest, she twisted the sheet in her hands and brought it to her mouth, fighting the urge to call out his name. She had to regain control of the situation, and fast. She'd once heard that in any relationship, romantic or otherwise, the person who cared the least had the most power. A wry laugh died in her throat. If the saying was true, between the two of them Bailey definitely had the most power.
    Then a thought occurred to her. She could be the person who appeared to care the least. Bailey Kallihan was wrong—she was a great actress, and she would play the part convincingly until her heart healed completely. Eventually, she'd get over him.
    But her heart squeezed sadly, reminding her that if she pulled off this part, she'd deserve an Academy Award.

    * * *

    Bailey started awake, disoriented at first, then remembering where he slept: in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, in the shelter where his son was staying, in a hot room exactly five strides from Ginny's bed.
    Moonlight streamed through the opening of the curtains at the small window. He estimated approximately an hour had passed since the last time he'd awakened, with about four more hours to go until dawn. He knuckled his scratchy eyes, then swung his legs to the floor and sat on the side of the bed.
    Ginny lay in the shadows of the wall, her figure barely discernible. After a few seconds passed and she hadn't stirred, he stood up gingerly and padded over to her bedside, standing close enough to make out her features. She lay on her back, one arm folded across her stomach, the other flung wide. She was so lovely. High cheekbones and finely arched brows, a sculpted nose and full mouth. Her hair fanned over the pillow, tangled and wild.
    His gaze roved lower. She'd kicked off the covers, as was her habit. A spaghetti strap from her camisole had slipped off her shoulder, offering a tempting glimpse of the curve of her breast. The silky fabric had crept up, displaying her flat, sexy stomach. The skimpy panties were nearly hidden in the valley created by her slightly raised knee. And underneath all that luscious, smooth skin lay a heart of pure gold and a passion of pure intensity.
    His naked body responded to his musings, and it took every ounce of discipline he had not to crawl in beside her and stroke her to full consciousness. She had wanted him earlier, he was sure of it. Ginny had always been forthright about her feelings—he'd been the accomplished cover-up artist. So why had she pulled back?
    A disturbing thought struck him. Perhaps she did want him, in the physical sense, but felt no affection, no love for him. To a woman like Ginny, sex without emotion would be a mistake. Maybe that's why she'd changed her mind—because she had absolutely no feelings for him.
    Although many obstacles blocked the road toward a long-term relationship between them, Bailey had never doubted their true affection for each other. If that one flickering flame had been doused in Ginny's heart, his chances of winning her back were bleak indeed. He took an enormous breath and exhaled slowly, then limped back to his bed. The worst of the night was yet to come.

    * * *

    "Did you sleep well?" Ms. Andrews asked.
    Virginia nodded, lying. Her normal ten-minute makeup application had stretched to thirty that morning in an attempt to camouflage her tired, puffy eyes. Bailey and his luggage had been gone when she awoke, his