One minute bled into another. He didn’t speak again, but he did evince extreme disappointment.
Or maybe the disappointment came from her?
What the heck is wrong with me? This emotional tug-of-war was exhausting. So why did she toss and turn another hour?
Finally, Katie’s eyelids grew heavy and drooped. She rolled to her side, a final thought drifting through her mind before she succumbed to the thickening darkness. Maybe I should make him fall in love with me…
* * *
MORNING DAWNED BRIGHT and early. “Way too early,” Katie muttered. Her eyes burned, and her head throbbed. A cup of coffee wouldn’t help; she needed a caffeine IV.
What had happened last night? Bad dreams she couldn’t remember? Her normal five-mile jog would not be happening this morning.
Bathroom. She needed a bathroom. Her overfull bladder demanded assistance.
Sheets and blankets tangled around her, making her feel trapped inside a cocoon. She grumbled under her breath as she worked to extract herself. Something thudded to the floor. Whatever it was, too bad, so sad. She didn’t care enough to search for it. Rubbing her eyes, she stood and tripped her way into the bathroom.
She washed her face, brushed her teeth and took a hot, steamy shower. By the time she emerged and tugged on a robe Gray had given her last Christmas, she felt less groggy. Maybe now she would be alert enough to deal with Jorlan.
Jorlan! The man her unconscious mind wanted to make fall in love with her.
Katie’s eyes widened with dismay. How could she have forgotten about the sexy, six-foot-six-inch horny alien sleeping in her room?
Heart pounding, cupcake-print robe flying, she darted out of the bathroom; her gaze scanned the floor, but she saw only a can of hairspray. Ah. So her “Mace” had caused the earlier thud.
Where was Jorlan? The only reminder of his presence? The rumpled pillow and blanket tangled together in a heap at the foot of her bed. She grabbed some clothes from the closet and dressed as she raced out of the room. Entering the living room, she zipped her jeans. No sign of her alien here, either.
Had he left her? What if the mother ship had beamed him up or something? Or worse, what if he was still here, in her house, going through her things? Katie’s stomach knotted as she envisioned laundry strewn across the floor and broken knickknacks scattered about. Through the dining room she went, as if hot coals simmered under her feet.
Then she saw him.
He stood in the kitchen, his back to her as he rifled through the fridge and hummed a song she didn’t recognize. A relieved sigh burst from her.
And okay, yeah, her gaze dropped to his butt. Sue her. He looked good. Really good. She perked up big-time. Except… She frowned. The sweats were saggy today; they hadn’t been saggy yesterday. They hung low on his waist, teasing her, tantalizing her, because a slight brush of air might slip them to the floor…
She inched forward, closing in. Upon closer inspection, she noticed something lumpy under his shirt. What the heck?
Katie cleared her throat.
Jorlan whipped around, unsheathing a butter knife he’d stored somewhere underneath his clothes, ready to strike. He moved too swiftly for her to track each individual motion, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
He must not have found the blades sharp enough to cut through bone.
Heart pounding faster, she blinked up at him. Running away wasn’t an option; her legs trembled, and her knees threatened to buckle. Gorgeous. Hooded eyelids, mussed dark hair and a stubble-shadowed jaw.
He possessed the deadly aura of a man who knew how to fight dirty, how to savagely maim and brutally kill; he was more terrifying than any weapon…and so hot he turned her blood to lava.
The second he realized who stood nearby, he relaxed his stance and returned the knife to its holder—an oven mitt he’d anchored to the waist of his pants. Clinking sounds rang out, telling her other “weapons” were strapped to his body. No wonder the garment bagged.
She wanted to laugh. She wanted to jump into his arms. She wanted…everything and nothing, here but there, now but later, always but never.
Face it. The man had tied her brain into knots.
“Good dawning, katya.” He slowly unveiled a half grin. “Did you sleep well?”
“Nope. I woke up a thousand times more tired.” Motioning to the cache of weapons, she said, “What are you planning to do with those?”
“Kill my enemies.”
“And who are your enemies?”
With a negligent shrug, he refocused on the refrigerator. “’Tis of no concern to you.”
“It is when you’re wearing what has to be twenty pounds of my silverware.”
The muscles in his back balled with tension. “If you must know, everyone I encounter has the potential to become my enemy. If I wish to survive, and I do, I can trust no one.” He shot a wicked glance over his shoulder. “Except you.”
“Let me guess. You do your best trusting when you and the other person are naked.”
“Oh, good. You agree.”
With a snort, she perched at the kitchen counter. “Do you still wish to meet with a psychic?”
“Aye. Though I will not be traveling home this day. I must wait until after I’ve—” He stiffened and went quiet.
“What? After you’ve slept with me?”
“Aye. Nay.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “After you’ve fallen in love with me.”
The love thing. Right. “Why do you want my love?”
“’Tis part of the curse. You are the one who freed me, so you must be the one to offer your love in two weeks, or I will return to stone forever.”
“You’re kidding, right? Trying to get me into bed again?” She offered a weak, unsure laugh.
“I would never tease you about my freedom.” The absolute conviction in his voice convinced her more than the words. “When my brother issued the curse, he planned for another female to kiss and free me. A woman I despise with every fiber of my being. He thought ’twould be amusing were I forced to pursue someone I loathed, but I escaped Imperia and ’twas you, you and not she, who became my savior.” Jorlan pushed out a breath. “I have no desire to pressure you, katya, and if the circumstances were different…but they aren’t.”
The enormity of the situation hit her like a jackhammer. If he’d told the truth, and she believed he had, his fate rested in her hands.
He needed her love, but he’d have an easier time of shaving her head and weaving her hair into fourteen-karat gold.
He shut the fridge door and took a step in her direction. “For women, bodily pleasure often leads to love.”
“Hate to break it to you, but anyone, no matter their gender, can bang and bail. Happens all the time.”
“Not with me.”
“You mean every woman you’ve slept with has proclaimed her love for you?”
“Aye,” he said with a nod. And it wasn’t a smug nod, either. He’d stated a fact rather than a brag.
“So, either you have a magic penis, or a lot of money. Which is it?”
He winged up a brow. “Why can’t it be both?”
Fair enough.
Tone guarded, he asked, “Did you not fall for any of your past lovers?”
Uh-oh. Was he leading up to The Talk about how many people they’d slept with?