While She Was Sleeping... (3 page)

“I wasn’t at the party.”

He appeared to process that for a while.

“So I didn’t pick you up there, bring you here and then forget.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I knew I couldn’t have been that out of it.”

How could he find anything about this situation funny? “You came home and crawled into
bed
with
me.
In
this room.
”

“I drank something pretty strong and didn’t notice you.” He turned his deep brown eyes on her face. “That is, I didn’t notice you at
first
…”

His smile became suggestive and secretive. Alana took a step back, clutching the bedspread, feeling a massive blush coming on even while thinking,
Oh, great, not just a womanizer, a blacking-out
alcoholic
womanizer.
Her sister never did anything by halves. “I took a sleeping pill and didn’t wake up until this morning. Just now. Not before. Slept all night. All of it.”

He grinned at her confusion. “You don’t remember…anything?”

“Of course not. I was asleep.”

“Hmm, I better fill you in, then, because I remember a
whole lot of what happened around 3:00 a.m. You were lying there, and I—”

“No. Don’t.” She waved furiously, stop stop
stop,
then had to grab the bedspread covering her before it fell.

“Huh?” His face was pure innocence. “You don’t want to know? I should think that would be pretty important.”

“I…” Enter massive blush. “I know that you were…I mean, you were definitely…there, but…”

“But?”

“I, er, thought I was dreaming.”

One eyebrow went up over a mischievous eye. “Sweet dream?”

“Not in the slightest.” Her voice shook; her blush deepened.

“Hmm, that’s not how I remember it. You practically lifted off the—”

“We are not going to discuss this.”

“No?” He raised his hand like a schoolboy with a question, rumpled and sexy in her childhood bed. “I need to say something.”

Argh.
“Go ahead.”

“I was drunk, you were drugged, we both have excuses. Let’s just start over.” He patted the sheets next to him. “Come back to bed.”

“What?”
She could not believe she’d actually heard him say that.
“You know I’m Melanie’s sister and you want me back in bed?”

“Geez.” He clutched his head and glared. “Melanie told me you were strung like a piano wire. Could you not shriek quite so loud—”

“I’ll shriek as damn loudly as I want to. I knew you’d be like this. Like all the others. That’s why I came.”

“
That’s
why you came? I thought my technique had something to do with that.”

She was not amused. At all. His wink did nothing to her.
At all. Even though it was atrociously sexy. “I
arrived here
to protect her. And you, you jump into bed with me and do God knows what. And by the way, piano wires are strung tight so they can play at their best.”

“If you say so.”

“Now please get out of my room so I can—”

“Your room? Melanie set this room up for me. She had no idea you were coming, or if she did, she didn’t tell me.”

“Oh, well, no. She didn’t know.” Alana frowned. Something about this made no sense. “But…why aren’t you in the master bedroom with her?”

His eyebrows raised again. “Why would—”

“Alana!?” Melanie’s blond head poked around the door, expression incredulous. “What the hell are you—”

She saw Sawyer in the bed and gasped. “Oh my
God.
”

“No.” Alana put both hands out toward her sister. “You
slept
with Sawyer last night?” she shrieked.

Sawyer helped the situation not at all by clutching his head in his hands and groaning, which made him look guilty and contrite instead of hungover and tired of shrieking.

“Melanie, this is not at all what it looks—”

“Give me a break.” She came out from around the door, wearing a wrinkled short skirt and top she’d obviously slept in, and took two menacing steps forward, hands jammed on her hips, hazel eyes flashing. “Okay, I’ll tell you what it looks like, Alana, and you let me know how on target I am. You slept with Sawyer last night.”

“No, I didn’t. I swear.” She realized that she was standing there with bed-head, wrapped in a bedspread, mostly bare shoulders showing, and that Sawyer was still half under the covers, clearly just awake and naked from the waist up, so her words wouldn’t carry much weight. “Sleeping, okay, sleeping, but that’s it, and that wasn’t on purpose. He got into bed with me. I didn’t even wake up.”

“You know, that’s the nicest thing a woman has ever said to me.”

She glared at him. He was smirking, the jerk. He’d cheated on Melanie with a member of her own family and thought this whole thing was amusing? “You’re not helping.”

He put his hand up to block his mouth from Melanie’s view. “You want me to tell her what you can do in your sleep?”

“Shh.”
She looked around. Any weapons? Blunt or otherwise?

“What are you whispering about?” Melanie shrieked. Shriek ing must run in their family. Alana had never noticed before.

“State secrets.” He turned to Melanie. “Alana is correct. She slept all night. I thought she was someone else when I woke up.”

“You mix up women in bed?” Alana snorted. “Impressive.”

Melanie looked crestfallen. “I didn’t realize you were that type when I asked you to move in, Sawyer.”

“No, I meant…” He sighed. “I’m just saying. If I knew she was your sister, I never would have—”

“Stayed.” Alana nodded at her sister. If he said
anything
about what he did to her, she’d show him what shrieking could sound like. She’d have a talk with Melanie later and bring it up only if Melanie needed proof the guy was a sleazeball. Why hurt her more? “If he knew I was me, he would have run. Far.”

“That’s for sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Very far.”

Alana ignored him. She was damn glad she’d delayed her trip to Florida and showed up here, because her sister definitely needed saving from Sawyer. If Melanie thought this guy was even close to someone she should get serious about…

Melanie’s face crumpled; she hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you did this.”

Alana and Sawyer exchanged glances. Sawyer pointed to
himself, then to Alana, then shrugged, hands up. Which one did she mean?

Alana pointed emphatically at him.
Give her a break.

“Why did you come here?” Melanie raised her tear-stained face, mascara already smudged from sleep making black tracks down her cheeks. “I told you not to.” Alana gaped.
She
was in trouble? Oh, that was just special. “I came so I could—”

“And now look what
you’ve
done.” Melanie gestured to Sawyer.

“What
I’ve
done?” He poked himself in the chest. “You’re mad at
me?
”

“You slept with my sister.”

He put his hands to his ears. “I did not realize she was your sister.”

“Ha!” Alana turned on him. “Like that makes any difference?”

“I’m sorry, did I take some vow of chastity I’m not aware of?” He had the gall to look bewildered. A sociopath, devoid of a conscience. Add that one to the other two and you got Womanizing Alcoholic Sociopath. The triple crown. Except don’t forget
unemployed,
which made it a home run, round all four base flaws.

Alana strode across the room, nearly tripping on the bedspread, took Melanie’s shoulder and steered her to the door. “C’mon, Mel. Let’s get out of here. Give Mr. Kern lots of privacy to dress and hardly any time to get the hell out of here.”

She led her sister down the hall, more angry and shaken up than she’d been in a long time. She hated that she’d been so vulnerable and had responded so thoroughly to Sawyer instead of punching him in the jaw and throwing him out of the house.

The worst part? Standing there just now, wanting to throttle him for the way he’d taken advantage of both her and Melanie,
a stupid hormonal part of her had been taking in his muscled body, warm and alive against the white sheets, his vivid brown eyes and strong, handsome features. No matter how much her brain said
jerk, jerk, jerk
this other part had only managed to come up with
mmm-more
.

She needed to buy a marital aid. The largest they had. A plug-in that would dim the lights for blocks and give her an orgasm the size of Cleveland. Then her ridiculous libido should be happy and stop bugging her about a man who wasn’t worth her toenail clippings.

In a way she was glad this fiasco had happened, because it made her job so much easier. Sawyer had shown his true colors.
Hello, I’m a horse’s butt.
End of story. He was history. Even Melanie had to see that.

Now Alana could go back to her original plan, head out later on today with a clear conscience, having done her big-sisterly duty here. In two days she’d be in Orlando and could start her granddaughterly duty there.

M
ELANIE WAS GETTING READY
to blow. She could not believe, not be-
lieve
that her darling big sister, Alana, had once again showed up to take over her life and tell her how she was screwing up. Most people only had one mother. Melanie had three: her real mother, who was sort of around for her first eight years, her grandmother, who raised her after that, and her big sister, who was a giant, bossy pain in her rear. Such a lucky girl.

This time she had to make it clear to Alana that she was twenty-six, not twelve. That she had really sworn off losers and had really found a decent man, and if Alana screwed it up…

She whirled on her sister. “You just had to come up here. You couldn’t trust that I—”

Alana put a finger to her lips and pushed open the door to Melanie’s childhood room, which Melanie saw through Alana’s eyes and realized looked like the room of a…twelve-year-old. Dammit. She’d been keeping it neat, forcing herself to pick up every night before bed, but last night after drinks with coworkers Jenny and Edgar, she’d needed an outfit for Ray’s get-together and hadn’t been able to decide what to wear, tried on everything she owned, then it got late, and—

No. She wasn’t going to be defensive anymore. She lived her life honestly and it was her own damn business how she kept her room.

“Melanie.” Alana shut the door behind her, glanced around, but miracle of miracles, didn’t make her usual face and comment about pigs. Okay, she’d only done that once, when Melanie was thirteen. But it still hurt.

“Alana.” She held her head high, wishing she were wear ing jeans and a sweater instead of her revealing rumpled outfit from the night before. She’d been so tired when she got home around four, she’d dropped right into bed, and slept until Alana’s and Sawyer’s voices woke her. “You have twenty seconds to ex plain why when I told you I found a great guy, you drove straight up here and seduced him.”

“That is
not
what happened.” She dropped the bedspread, grabbed a loose skirt and teal sweater from Melanie’s floor.

“You did drive straight up here.”

“Yes. I did.” She pulled on the skirt, which barely fit over the curvy hips Melanie wished she had, dragged the too-tight sweater over her generous boobs, ditto. “I was worried about you.”

“So the phrases ‘I’ve changed’ and ‘this guy is different’…you thought I was lying? Or so stupid that I had no idea what I was talking about?”

“What is so great about a guy who makes a move on your sister?”

“I thought you said all that went on was sleeping.”

Alana’s face went blank. She slumped against the wall and knocked off Melanie’s firefighters calendar. Mr. July was muscled enough to go bodysurfing on, but he fell without protest. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because what was the point of hurting you more?”

She looked so miserable Melanie had to force herself to
calm down. She knew Sawyer wasn’t a player, but then Alana wasn’t, either. So…“What
did
happen?”

“I was asleep. My doctor gave me new pills and then Sawyer…I thought I was dreaming.”

“Come on. You slept through sex?”

“We didn’t have sex. He just—”

“Ew.” Melanie put her hands out. “I don’t want to know.”

“But also, I had a headache and took one of the ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. It didn’t look right, and I wondered if maybe I was
so
asleep because—”

“Oh, gosh.” Melanie’s eyes widened. “I wondered where those were. That wasn’t ibuprofen, those were sleeping pills I borrowed from Joe.”

“Whoa.” Alana’s eyebrows shot up. “I guess
that’s
how you sleep through sex.”

“I thought you said—”

“No.” She waggled her finger back and forth. “I meant it. No sex. But the guy is bad news, Melanie.”

Here we go. Mommy Alana on a roll.
“He didn’t know who you were.”

“What was he doing making a pass at
anyone
if you’re dating seriously?”

“Oh.” Melanie did everything she could not to look guilty. They weren’t exactly dating yet. But he’d shown interest moving in with her, hadn’t he? And with the two of them together so much, something would happen. He was perfect for the new her. But if she told Alana she’d asked Sawyer to move into their house when she’d only seen him four times briefly at Habitat for Humanity, Alana would stay for the rest of Melanie’s life. “Well…he was drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“And this is an excuse why? For one thing, blacking-out drunk is serious. For another, alcohol doesn’t force you to cheat.”

“Look. Just drop it, okay? Sawyer and I have worked this
out. He’s moving in today and that’s what we both want. I’ve never seen him drink too much before, this was probably a one-time overindulgence. And if not, I’ll keep an eye out and handle it, okay?”

“No, not okay. I don’t want you getting involved with someone—”

“Who you don’t know at all and who has a perfectly reasonable explanation for how he behaved? It’s actually more reasonable than yours.” She wanted to turn into a bear, growl and terrify Alana out of the house, then shred a tree or something. She couldn’t stand the fighting. It was all they did. “Tell you what. I’ll put him on probation for a month.”

“Melanie, I can’t believe—”

“One month.” She held up a finger. “Any signs of excessive drinking or, um, cheating on me again, and I’ll throw him out. In the meantime, while you’re here, you make an effort to talk to him and get to know him when he hasn’t been drinking, which I’m telling you is
not
like him. If you still think he’s a jerk, then we’ll talk. But I know you won’t.”

Alana sighed, pushed herself away from the wall and re-hung Mr. July, which shouldn’t have been necessary since he was plenty well hung already. “Okay. I know I’m a buttinsky. I just worry about you.”

“Ya
think?
” She couldn’t help grinning. Her sister did look worried, and Melanie was aware a lot of the worry was love. She just wished Alana would keep her worry and love safely long distance. “I’m fine, really. You and Sawyer got off on…okay, rephrase,
started
off on the wrong foot, but he’s really terrific. Practically a Boy Scout. I don’t know where he was last night, but—”

“You don’t?” Alana pounced. “He doesn’t tell you where he’s—”

“Alana…”

“Okay.” She lifted her hands. “Okay, okay. Shutting up. Where were you last night?”

“I went out for a drink after work with Jenny and Edgar. Came back to change, then Jenny and I went to a party.”

“Ah.” Alana looked at her watch, doubtless thinking,
You’re too old to be partying this hard at your age, young lady.
“You don’t have work today?”

Melanie whirled around, peered at her Betty Boop clock and gasped. “Oh, God. I’m late.”

She started peeling off her clothes, looking desperately around at her discarded wardrobe. What to wear, what to wear.

“I’ll find you something for breakfast.” Alana left the room before Melanie could tell her she didn’t eat breakfast. Whatever. Mommy Alana wouldn’t listen anyway. She’d lecture on the importance of a good nutritious start to the day and whip up oatmeal with prunes. Melanie hated oatmeal. And she hated prunes.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in beige pants and an olive-patterned top she’d bought on sale and never worn because it made her look sallow, teeth brushed, makeup on, stairs leaped down two at a time, she managed not to roll her eyes at the spread on the table. Toast, cereal, power bars, peanut butter, cheese…

“You eat like this every morning?” She grabbed a power bar to keep the peace.

“That color looks horrible on you.”

“Thank you.” She relented when her sister looked contrite. “I know, but it’s the only thing I found that didn’t need ironing, and
don’t say
that if I kept my clothes hanging in the closet they wouldn’t get wrinkled.”

Alana looked startled, then drew her fingers across her lips,
zzzip.
“Have a good day at work, dear.”

Melanie giggled. “Thank you. Have fun with Sawyer. Try to stay out of bed with him, okay?”

Alana scowled. “He’s gone already. Never to return, if he knows what’s good for him.”

He’d be back. But Melanie wasn’t going to say that or risk starting another fight. She rushed to the door, rushed back and grabbed her purse. “I’ll be home for dinner. We can go to Gilles for burgers and custard. I know you didn’t get enough fat down there in Chicago-town. Bye!”

She didn’t wait for her sister to tell her the exact calorie and cholesterol count of her planned dinner. Outside she hauled out her cell, dialed Edgar at Triangle Graphics where she worked downtown in the Third Ward. “Edgar, I’m late.”

“That was noticed.”

“I know, I know, fifth time this week and it’s Friday. I’m on my way, can you charm everyone for me?”

“What’s wrong?”

Melanie blinked. He was psychic. He had to be. She couldn’t imagine she’d shown any of her confusion and upset, but he always knew. “Nothing! All is good. Be there soon, bye!”

She shut her phone, climbed into her ten-year-old blue Civic and started it up. Good old dependable Honey the Honda. Fifteen minutes later, only breaking a few speed limits, she pulled into the company parking lot, slammed Honey’s door and ran inside the renovated warehouse, bumping into—of course—the president of Triangle Graphics, Mr. We-Must-Be-Punctual, Todd Maniscotto.

“Hey, Todd, sorry I’m late. Sister visited unexpectedly, fouled up my whole morning…”
By sleeping with the guy I plan to marry.

“Good morning.” Todd gave her a look over his bifocals and went back to studying whatever design brownnose Bob Stevens was hoping to be praised for.

Melanie scooted into the back room and into her cubicle, grinning hello to Edgar who sat next to her. He looked particularly horrible in a mustard-yellow shirt with brown pants. She’d love to hire herself out as his personal shopper. Obviously his girlfriend didn’t know or didn’t care about fashion
faux pas
for guys with his dark hair and pale face.

“Hi, Mel. The staff meeting was postponed until ten-thirty today. You got lucky.”

She went limp with relief, then stared at the Starbucks cup on her desk. “What’s this?”

“Thought you’d need it.”

“Edgar.” She picked up the cup, sipped experimentally. Mmm, mocha frappucino with extra whipped cream, her very favorite. “You are the absolute sweetest.”

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled at her. He had a nose the size of a potato, bushy eyebrows, a weak chin, helmet-hair that looked coarse and greasy even when he’d just washed it, the bluest most surprisingly beautiful eyes and a dazzling white-toothed smile. Like matinee-idol mistakes in a nerd movie-designed face. “So tell me what’s going on, Melly. You sounded like a wreck on the phone.”

“Oh, Ed.” She collapsed into her chair, scooted it toward him and told the whole bizarre adventure of the previous evening. “So now my sister spent last night with my intended true love.”

“You really like this guy, huh.” He stopped moving the mouse, tapped his finger on it without clicking. “More than the others.”

“Oh. Well, yes. I mean, I hope to. What’s not to like?”

“Uh.” He folded his arms across his chest. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Edgar, I’m trying. I’m really trying here. I can’t screw up again. I can’t keep falling for these toxic guys and then needing to be rescued, either by you or Gran and Grandad or even, bless her to hell, my overlord and sister, Alana. This guy is fabulous. He’s handsome, upstanding, no illegal or self-destructive habits, he’s sweet as hell…” She sighed.

“And he does nothing for you.”

“I’m going to fall for him. He’s moving in, something is bound to happen, you know me.”

“Um…” He broke out his killer smile. “No comment.”

“And after it does, well, I always fall for guys I sleep with. And then I’ll be fine. And safe. And set.” She eyed her coffee sadly. “Or that’s the plan anyway. Pretty stupid, huh.”

“It’s…better than some of them.”

“Eddie,” she ducked her head, whispering. “You want to know something?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m scared.”

“What do you mean?” He pushed back his chair, put his hand over hers, searched her face. “What is it?”

“What am I going to do if I don’t fall for him?” She gazed at him mournfully. “What if I’m doomed to love only dangerous, emotionally unavailable messes? What if I’m like my mother?”

“You’re not like your mother.”

“How do you know? You’ve never met my mother.”

“I’ve heard about her. You’re never going to hurt people you love the way she did.”

“Thank you, Edgar.” She sighed. He was amazing, like he had a guidebook:
Best Things to Say to Melanie.
“Am I ever this nice to you?”

“Always. Emma is jealous of how much I talk about you.”

She laughed. “Emma is a lucky woman. Tell her I said so.”

“I don’t know, she might scratch my eyes out.”

“Very doubtful.” She squeezed his hand and rolled back to her cubicle. “Was she home when you got back after we had drinks?”

“Yeah, she was there.”

“She wasn’t angry you’d been out after work?”

“A little, but only because she missed me.” He clicked the mouse a few times to change the size of a graphic on his screen. “We hung out on the couch and watched TV together.”

Melanie sighed wistfully. That was the kind of evening she should be having instead of partying her brains out. But being still and quiet was an open invitation to demons of self-doubt to start torturing her, so she kept moving. Maybe with Sawyer…“Oh, but when it’s the right person, anything is exciting.”

“True.” He laughed as if he’d thought of something funny.

“What?”

“Nothing. Stop worrying. If your instincts are right about this Sawyer guy…”

“I hope they are. Or will be. I’m just not feeling it, you know? One look at a man who’s bad for me and I light up like a winning slot machine. This man is perfect and all I feel for him is determination. I mean, he was in bed last night with my sister and all I felt was annoyed that she’d barged in on my life again. Shouldn’t I have been raging jealous?”