When I wake up on Sunday morning, Angelica curled next to me, sleeping softly, looking like an angel with her sunlight hair spread over the pillow, my stomach twists into a knot.

This is almost too convenient—having the one woman I want to be with come back to the penthouse every night for a few weeks plays right into my hands.

In one way.

The risks are obvious.

The closer she gets, the more she’ll know about me. The more we’ll know about each other. It’s going to be a fine line to tread.

Because it was more than common decency that led me to offer staying at my place while hers is under repair, and last night convinced me of that.

The more I have her, the more I want her.

A strange warmth suffuses every one of my limbs. She breathes in and out, her bare shoulders rising above the sheet she has tucked defensively around her, then she stirs.

I should take it back. I should make up some excuse for why she can’t stay here and have Stuart drive her back to the Sheraton before I let this go any farther.

But then she turns toward me, eyelashes fluttering, and the stormy gray-blue of her eyes in the early morning light makes my heart stop, then thunder ahead.

“Hi.” She closes her eyes again, stretching her arms above her head, circling her wrists against the headboard. “Watching something interesting?” The sleepy grin on her face is too much.

“Watching something beautiful.”

A flicker of disappointment crosses her face, but it’s chased away by another playful smile, a yawn. “Sunday.” It’s a thoughtful comment.

“What about it?”

She rolls toward me, tucking her hand under her elbow. “What does a guy like you do on Sunday?”

I raise one shoulder half an inch, then lower it again. “Whatever I please.”

She laughs. “You must have some idea.”

“Do I?”

Angelica looks to the side, then turns over and hops out of bed. I can’t take my eyes off the full curve of her ass, the lithe, petite legs as she heads for the master bathroom. “There’s a toothbrush in there for me, isn’t there?” she calls out to me over her shoulder.

“You’d better hope so.”

“You’d better hope so,” she says, then closes the door behind her. Water runs for a few minutes, and when Angelica emerges she’s gathered her hair at the nape of her neck in a loose bun. Her hips sway as she walks. She’s confident, and she should be. Her body is perfect. There is nothing in the world she would ever need to feel embarrassed about.

For a minute, while she crosses the room toward the sofa and armchairs, I’m so transfixed by the movement of her body that I forget all the other shit that’s been bothering me.

Angelica’s next move is to pick up the gray robe that someone—probably Elizabeth, my personal shopper—thought would be a good addition to the weekend wardrobe. In one way, she was right—it fits Angelica perfectly, the hemline of the fabric dropping only a couple of inches below her firm ass, the belt emphasizing her slim waist. In another way, I hate that thing because it’s hiding that luscious skin from me.

I throw back the covers, exposing my naked body, my already-hard cock, and Angelica’s eyes widen. She curls one end of the belt around her fingers. “Was this a mistake?” Her tone is innocent, but her expression is all heat.

“At least it won’t be hard to fix.”

She comes toward the bed and climbs on, kneeling next to me. I sit up and press my lips against her collarbone, and give into the urge to wrap my hands around her waist.

“Wait.”

I pull back and watch while she licks her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Tell me something about yourself first.”

What? “You know everything there is to know about me.” It’s a lie and we both know it.

“I know you’re rich,” she says, sitting back on her heels. “I know you’re sexy as hell. I know you take what you want....” She reaches out and runs her fingers down the muscles of my arm. “But we’ve never talked about anything important.”

The laughter comes unbidden. “We’ve spent two evenings together. Let’s not get too hasty.” I gesture toward the rest of the room. “Isn’t this enough for you?”

She appraises the space around us, then shakes her head. “Listen, Jett, I know this is only...temporary.” Angelica swallows hard. The pause is long enough for me to disagree with her. I don’t. The very last thing on earth I need to do right now is give her the idea that this is going to go anywhere. It’s not.

In time to save herself from excruciating awkwardness, she speaks again. “We’ve spent two evenings together and I really don’t want to triple my commute. It doesn’t give me a lot of wiggle room in the mornings, and my boss....” She trails off. “Anyway, I want to know more about you. Anything about you.”

“I’d rather be doing something else.”

Heat rises to her cheeks, and she cuts a glance at my cock. “Aside from that. Where....” Angelica’s breathing is shallow. “Where did you grow up?” She tears her eyes away from my body and returns her gaze back up to my face.

That’s when I see it—the struggle. She wants me, too—but her desire to know more seems entirely genuine.

The tiniest piece of my heart shifts, makes room.

She’s only going to be here for a while.

I can give a little during that time.

“In an apartment on the Upper East Side, until I was ten.”

“What happened then?”

I take a deep breath and give her what she wants.