The Welcoming

difference does it make whether I’m lying down or sitting down?”
    “According to the doctor, quite a bit.” He picked up a tablet from the nightstand. “Is this the medication he gave you?”
    “Yes.”
    “The same medication that you were supposed to take before he left?”
    She struggled to keep from pouting. “I’m going to take it after I make a few phone calls.”
    “No phone calls today.”
    “Now listen, Roman, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t take orders from you.”
    “I know. You give them to me.”
    Before she could respond, he lowered his lips to hers. Here was gentleness again, whisper-soft, achingly warm. With a little sound of pleasure, she sank into it.
    He’d thought it would be easy to take one, only one, fleeting taste. But his hand curled into a fist as he fought the need to demand more. She was so fragile now. He wanted to soothe, not arouse . . . to comfort, not seduce. But in seconds he was both aroused and seduced.
    When he started to pull back, she gave a murmur of protest and pressed him close again. She needed this sweetness from him, needed it more than any medication.
    “Easy,” he told her, clawing for his self-control. “I’m a little low on willpower, and you need rest.”
    “I’d rather have you.”
    She smiled at him, and his stomach twisted into knots. “Do you drive all men crazy?”
    “I don’t think so.” Feeling on top of the world, she brushed his hair back from his brow. “Anyway, you’re the first to ask.”
    “We’ll talk about it later.” Determined to do his best for her, he held out the pill. “Take this.”
    “Later.”
    “Uh-uh. Now.”
    With a sound of disgust, she popped the pill into her mouth, then picked up her cooling tea and sipped it. “There. Satisfied?”
    He had to grin. “I’ve been a long way from satisfied since I first laid eyes on you, baby. Lift up your tongue.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “You heard me. You’re pretty good.” He put a hand under her chin. “But I’m better. Let’s have the pill.”
    She knew she was beaten. She took the pill out of her mouth, then made a production out of swallowing it. She touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. “It might still be in there. Want to search me for it?”
    “What I want”—he kissed her lightly—“is for you to stay in bed.” He shifted his lips to her throat. “No calls, no paperwork, no sneaking downstairs.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and felt her shudder, and his own. “Promise.”
    “Yes.” Her lips parted as his brushed over them. “I promise.”
    “Good.” He sat back and picked up the tray. “I’ll see you later.”
    “But—” She set her teeth as he walked to the door. “You play dirty, DeWinter.”
    “Yeah.” He glanced back at her. “And to win.”
    He left her, knowing she would no more break her word than she would fly out the window. He had business of his own to attend to.

Chapter 7
    An important part of Roman’s training had been learning how to pursue an assignment in a thorough and objective manner. He had always found it second nature to do both. Until now. Still, for very personal reasons, he fully intended to be thorough.
    When he left Charity, Roman expected to find Bob in the office, and he hoped to find him alone. He wasn’t disappointed. Bob had the phone receiver at his ear and the computer monitor blinking above his fingers. After waving a distracted hand in Roman’s direction, he went on with his conversation.
    “I’ll be happy to set that up for you and your wife, Mr. Partington. That’s a double room for the nights of the fifteenth and sixteenth of July.”
    “Hang up,” Roman told him. Bob merely held up a finger, signaling a short wait.
    “Yes, that’s available with a private bath and includes breakfast. We’d be happy to help you arrange the rentals of kayaks during your stay. Your confirmation number is—”
    Roman slammed a hand down on the phone, breaking the connection.
    “What the hell are you doing?”
    “Wondering if I should bother to talk to you or just kill you.”
    Bob sprang out of his chair and managed to put the desk between him and Roman. “Look, I know you’ve had an upsetting morning—”
    “Do you?” Roman didn’t bother to try to outmaneuver. He simply stood where he was and watched Bob sweat. “Upsetting. That’s a nice, polite word for it. But you’re a nice, polite man, aren’t you, Bob?”
    Bob glanced at the door and wondered if