Everything in the penthouse smelled clean and fresh, and even though the lights were on, it was as quiet as a tomb. He walked through to the kitchen, and found everything in perfect order. He looked around a moment, a new, soft scent lingering in the air that caught his attention and struck a chord in the pit of his stomach. There was a note in front of the coffee maker and he picked it up. Timer is set. Coffee will be ready in the morning. He fingered the piece of paper a moment, taking in the neat, feminine handwriting before setting it back down.
He left the kitchen and walked through to his bedroom. Again in this room, all was immaculate.
But where the hell was she? Had she just upped and left?
He returned to the living room, only to find her purse on the floor next to the coffee table. He took a deep breath, the inexplicable agitation he was feeling somewhat mitigated by the sight. He narrowed his eyes and let his gaze roam across the room, looking for any other signs of her occupation. His eyes shot past the chaise longue, and then came back again just as quickly.
Ahh, there she was. He'd almost missed her at first, her small body dressed in a black t-shirt and dark jeans blended in with the dark fabric of the furniture. She was curled in a fetal position and her cheek rested on hands that were steepled as if in prayer.
She was sound asleep.
He prowled over on silent feet and stared down at her, fisting his hands to keep them from reaching out to touch. Her eyelashes made dark crescents across the pallor of her complexion. She looked pale to him, almost unusually so. And there were dark shadows under her eyes, as if she were exhausted. Had he worked her too hard? He knew from the detailed billing that the housekeeping service he used sent two women to do the work, and by the looks of it, they didn't perform the same job as this one young woman had done.
Although they hadn't discussed it, he obviously knew she was without a vehicle, and he had hoped he would still find her here tonight.
He sank down to his haunches, and lifted his hand to touch her face. He steeled his guts and imposed strict control as he allowed himself to touch her with only one finger. "Natalie."
He said her name softly, maybe too softly, because he received no reaction. He ran his finger down the silkiness of her cheekbone and tried again. "Natalie."
"Hmm."
The libido that had been quiet all night, no matter how hard Tanya had tried to tease him, suddenly came screaming to life when Natalie let out that single puff of air, lifted her arm over her head and turned to her back to seek a more comfortable position.
His eyes shot down to the small mounds of her breasts accentuated by the position of her arm. She was slight and almost fragile, exactly what he was most attracted to, and she was asleep in his house. The connotations of that were too much to fight against and his erection became painful very quickly. His stomach muscles clenched as he attempted to gain control.
Deciding not to wake her but knowing she'd be more comfortable in a bed, he bent and lifted her in his arms. He carried her down to the bedrooms, and without thinking about why, he chose the room closest to his.
As carefully as he could manage, he laid her on the bed. Forcefully restraining himself from taking another look, he went and got her purse and put it on the bedside table next to her. He snapped out the light and was about to close the door, but then thought better of it and imagined her waking up in the middle of the night not remembering where she was, so he turned the light on in the connecting bathroom and left it ajar just enough to give her some light.
Then he turned and made his escape, refusing to think about the satisfaction coursing through his bloodstream.
****
Natalie slept the entire night but woke with the urgent need to pee. She sat up on the bed and took a look around. The day before came flooding back to her at once. Not taking the time to think about who had carried her to the bedroom, because it would screw with her mind beyond all reason, and knowing the answer anyway, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom.
As she looked in the mirror, she realized she had nothing. No toothbrush, no toothpaste, no shampoo, no conditioner. She didn't even have a set of clean clothes to change into. All she had were the contents of her purse. Luckily, she carried basic make-up. Grimacing with distaste, she walked from the room with the intention of finding Marco.
The penthouse was empty. The clock read ten-thirty and she double-checked to make sure she'd read it correctly. She'd slept thirteen and a half hours. She hadn't done that in years. Granted, she hadn't had the opportunity in years. It had taken hard work, both her's and her mother's, to make a living. And it was the truth that Justin's couch was old and lumpy and she'd had no privacy in the last three days. She'd gotten very little sleep there; his girlfriend came in and out and helped herself to Natalie's things when she wasn't looking and Justin, Natalie knew, had no clue the other woman was doing it. Natalie had started keeping her suitcase in the car he'd lent her. A suitcase she'd left in the car because she hadn't known whether or not to bring it with her.
Marco wasn't around but she found a note in the same place she'd left one for him the night before, next to the coffeemaker. Help yourself to whatever you need. We'll talk tonight.
That didn't sound too terribly ominous, did it?
She immediately went in search of a shower and any toiletries she might find.
****
Later that night, Marco walked into the penthouse to the smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen. He didn't usually eat this early in the evening, but the smells immediately began doing a number on his appetite. He walked through to the kitchen and found Natalie turning from the sink to face him.
He felt his heartbeat speed up, and when he realized she looked even more beautiful than yesterday, he focused on her until the reason for it hit him.
She looked fresh and rested and her face was made-up--and there was no obvious fear in sight.
The difference was subtle, yet at the same time, it made a dramatic change. She had high cheekbones, long lashes and full lips. The cosmetics she wore enhanced those features and all at once he realized she was more than really pretty, she was agonizingly beautiful. He'd already figured out she was damn sexy. His cock had been telling him that since the collision yesterday, but now, in the light of a different day, and without the stress and panic from the collision stressing her features, he was finding an added dimension to her face.
He placed his palms on the doorframe and leaned into them, and tried to control the strong and immediate sexual need he felt every time he saw her. Even though her tension wasn't as pronounced as it had been the day before, she pushed her hair behind her ear with fingers that trembled until finally, she quit fidgeting and dropped her hands in front of her. She was watching him hesitantly, and the tension he was feeling churning through his guts and sliding insidiously down to his groin didn't permit him to offer her a smile. But he tried to lighten the atmosphere with humor to put her at ease. "Honey, I'm home." The words came out flat and from the tiny jerk she gave, he knew his effort to soothe her had failed.