Chapter Seven

 

Noah set his carry-on bag on the bed. When he heard the water in the shower turn on, he stopped unzipping the suitcase and took a deep breath. Libby was in the other room—naked—and his thoughts raced into dangerous territory.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman.

Part one of his plan had come to fruition without his involvement—the wedding had been aborted—but now what did he do? Libby had shot down his proposition a month ago. Could he really risk laying it on the line? The thought terrified him—what if she refused to give them a try?—but right now it didn’t matter. While he might be ready to give their relationship a shot, she’d only just broken up with Mitch. This was hardly the time to make his feelings known to her.

He pulled out a T-shirt and cautiously pushed the bathroom door open. Her wedding dress lay in a giant puddle of fabric on the floor. “Lib, I’m putting my shirt on the counter.”

“Thanks.”

He set it next to her towel, then picked up her dress and carried it out with him, shutting the door behind him. Holding it up in front of him, he studied the silk gown. Based on what she’d told him about her football-centric disaster of a wedding, this was probably the only part of the whole affair that had truly been her. Unsure of what to do with it, he laid it across the back of the desk chair—the skirt billowing everywhere—then pulled out another T-shirt for himself.

The bed loomed in the middle of the room, teasing him. He had no clue how they were going to handle sleeping together. For one thing, Noah usually slept in his briefs, which meant he had no pajama bottoms. He’d have to settle for wearing a T-shirt over them, but the feelings of protectiveness she’d stirred inside of him were also rousing other feelings that might not be so easy to hide if they were nearly naked and close together in bed.

He’d think about that later. Right now he had to figure out where they were going for Libby St. Clair Day. What would make her the happiest?

He gasped when the answer hit him, and he pulled out his laptop to search the Internet for wacky tourist attractions. He’d made a list and mapped a few out by the time she emerged from the bathroom, her damp hair hanging in loose waves over her shoulders and down her back. Her long sexy legs peeked out from under his shirt, which hung mere inches below the curve of her ass. Every nerve ending pinged at the sight of her and he resisted the urge to jump up and show her how much he wanted her. He forced himself to act natural.

“Feel better?”

“Yeah.”

He slowly stood, trying to be nonchalant.

She nodded to his laptop. “You working?”

“Working?” he teased, even though the reminder that he was no longer employed made his stomach sink. “There’s no real work allowed on Libby St. Clair Day. Only play. I was planning it for us.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “What did you come up with?”

He shook his head and closed the lid. “It’s a surprise.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“It’s perfectly fair.” He grabbed his T-shirt and toiletry bag. “I’m going to take a shower now.”

“All right.”

He grinned. There was a cute smirk on her face—the one she always got when she was up to something sneaky. “Feel free to try and figure out the password on my laptop. It’s unbreakable.”

Her eyes widened in mock indignation, but she didn’t try to protest. She knew he had her figured out.

When he emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, he found her on the bed, propped up against the headboard on a pile of pillows. The covers were pulled back, but her bare legs were tucked to the side and his computer was on her lap. She looked up, not even pretending to hide what she’d been doing.

God, he loved that about her.

“No luck, huh?” he asked smugly.

She started to respond, then stopped, lifting her gaze up from his legs to his face. “No.”

Was she bothered by his lack of pants? The shirt he’d picked covered all the essential parts in the front, but left his briefs-covered ass exposed in the back. Libby wasn’t the kind of woman to be offended by naked bodies. If anything, her art background made her appreciate the human form more than most people. So if it wasn’t his body in general, did that mean she was affected by him?

Could she want him too?

His pulse quickened at the thought, but he told himself that he had to take this slow. She needed time, and right now she needed him to be her friend. And while it was no secret that Noah had slept with more women than was respectable, Libby had her own more-than-healthy share of short-lived relationships.

Lately he’d found himself in the strange situation of offering others advice in matters of the heart, so he made himself take a step back and fill that role for himself. What advice would he give another person in his situation? He’d encouraged Garrett to go for it, but Garrett had only had days to convince Blair to cancel her wedding. Libby had already run out of hers. He’d gotten to know Libby well enough to realize she was vulnerable now. It wouldn’t take much to convince her to sleep with him, but he also knew her well enough to realize that if she did sleep with him, it would be as a short-term emotional Band-Aid.

Of course, a short-term fling could blossom into something more, but when they slept together, he wanted her fully committed to making this thing between them work. His thought process stunned him. He’d never before given any consideration to how a woman would feel about sleeping with him. Only that she did.

What the hell had happened to him? Of course, the answer was simple, even if it had taken him months to figure it out: Libby St. Clair.

“Noah?”

She had to wonder why he was just standing there, gawking at her. What had they been talking about? Oh, yeah. His password.

“My laptop is more secure than Fort Knox.” He moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, trying to act like sitting next to her on the bed they were going to sleep in together was no big deal.

“Is that a challenge?” Her voice rose with excitement.

“Sure, if that makes you happy. I’d prefer to call it a worthless endeavor.” 

She closed the computer and handed it to him. He set it on the nightstand, worried he’d stolen her playfulness, but while she wasn’t bursting with happiness, she wasn’t frowning either.

He started to slide closer to her, but there was a knock at the door. Libby stiffened, her body tense with anxiety, and Noah slid off the bed. “I’ll check and see who it is.”

He peered through the peephole, and was surprised to see a hotel employee with a room service tray. “You must have the wrong room,” he said, opening the door. “We didn’t order anything.”

The older man dressed in black pants and a white long-sleeved shirt paired with a black bow tie cleared his throat. “Compliments of the hotel. For your wedding night.” His eyes shifted to Noah’s crotch, but he abruptly lifted his gaze and held out a tray with a bottle of champagne, two plastic cups, and a piece of shriveled angel food cake.

Noah tried to hide his grin as he took the tray.

“Is it true?” the man asked. “Did she . . . you know?”

Noah gave a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back and lowering his voice. “Yeah, she’s vicious in bed. I can show you the foot-long scar if you like. It’s still pretty fresh.”

The man’s eyes widened and he turned around, muttering, “No thank you, no thank you,” before hurrying down the hall to the elevator.

Noah carried the tray into the room and kicked the door shut behind him.

“A foot long?” Libby commented with raised brows. “I’m sure there’s some psychological delusion of grandeur there.”

Noah grinned as he set the tray on the dresser, trying to think of things other than his exaggerated twelve inches and the woman on the bed. His T-shirt wouldn’t hide much. “How about some champagne?”

Her smile fell. “Champagne is for celebrating and there is nothing to celebrate.”

“I disagree.” Noah twisted off the cork and quickly filled the plastic cups, then carried them over to the bed and sat down, one leg still dangling off the side. “Here.”

She refused to take it. “No. I told you we have nothing to celebrate.”

“Of course we do. How about the fact you dodged a bullet today? You could have married a man you didn’t really love, but you came to your senses at the last minute.”

He held it out to her again and she reluctantly took it this time. “That doesn’t seem like something to be proud of.”

He looked her in the eyes. “It took guts, Lib. Do you know how many people would have just stood there and gone through with it?”

Some emotion washed over her face, but it passed too quickly for him to register. She looked up with a smile. “How about we celebrate the fact I haven’t kicked you in the other ball . . . yet.”

He burst out laughing. “I’ll drink to that, although I resent the tacked-on yet.”

She clacked her glass against his, then took a healthy gulp.

He took a sip of his own champagne and said, “Looks like we’ll need more of this.” He got up and grabbed the bottle and the cake, setting the bottle on the nightstand before sitting down again. “Do you want the cake?”

“Angel food?” she asked. “Doesn’t sound appropriate for either one of us. You and I are more like devil’s food, don’t you think?” Her teasing tone removed the sting.

“Maybe it’ll be a good influence on us.” He picked it up off the plate and held it up to her mouth.

Hesitation flickered in her eyes for a few seconds, but she leaned forward and took a bite. She grabbed the cake out of his hand and held it up to him, lifting her eyebrows playfully.

As she held the cake in front of his face, he realized why she’d held back for a moment. Without realizing what he was doing, he’d reenacted the cake part of a wedding reception.

She put the cake on the plate, then finished off her cup of champagne. He grabbed the bottle and poured more for her.

“What do you want to do?” he asked. “Watch some TV? Go to sleep?”

“TV. I don’t think I can sleep.”

He reached for the remote and clicked on the TV, scrolling through the channels until he found an episode of Friends. The goal was to put her at ease. They’d watched plenty of movies together at her apartment, and sometime he’d sit behind her and rub her back. “I’ll rub your back if you like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, turn around.”

She drank the rest of her champagne and handed him the cup before scooting closer.

“Why don’t you lay your head on my legs, close enough for me to reach your back.”

“Okay.”

She maneuvered so that she lay sideways, her head resting on his upper thighs. His hand rested on her back. It should have been no big deal; they’d watched TV on her sofa before, but never this intimately.

He stayed still for a moment, letting her relax on him before he began to rub over her T-shirt, shifting slightly so she couldn’t see his arousal at the sight of her sexy legs and barely covered ass. She sighed with contentment and soon her breathing evened, her body sagged into his, and he realized she’d fallen asleep.

To his surprise his arousal faded, shifting to something deeper—the need to make sure she felt protected and comforted. He realized even if she made a move, he would turn her down. That so wasn’t his style, but he didn’t want to blow their chance on what she could potentially see as a one-night fling.

The episode ended and he turned off the TV, then tried to decide if he should disturb her to turn off the light.

She shifted slightly, then lifted her head to look at him. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

“It’s okay, I’m tired too.” He reached up and flipped the switch, flooding the room with darkness.

She scooted off him but stayed close. “Noah? Can I ask you a favor?”

“Anything . . . well, except for buying you tampons. A guy has to draw the line somewhere.”

She laughed. “You’re safe there . . . for now.”

He grinned in the dark. “What’s your favor?”

She paused, and when she finally answered, her voice sounded unsure. “Will you hold me?”

He didn’t answer, just rolled onto his side and reached for her, pulling her back to his chest, bending his hips back in case touching her aroused him again.

She put her hand over his. “You’re the only one who stood by me today.”

The thought sobered him. How could that be? He was the least responsible of all of her friends. He instinctively pulled her closer. “Oh, Lib. I’ll always be there for you. I promise. I’m sorry I said I wasn’t coming. If I’d kept my original flight yesterday, maybe I could have helped you change your mind.”

Her head rubbed against his chest as she shook it. “No. You couldn’t have. I was sure I knew what I was doing.”

The sadness in her voice wrecked him. “It’s over. Tomorrow is Libby Day and we won’t mention any of this at all, okay? Just fun.”

“Okay.”

Soon her breath evened again, and he drifted off to sleep too, wondering if this was what contentment felt like. If it was, he knew he wanted it with her.