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almost like a nightgown.
    She hugged herself, reveling in the feel of being tiny compared to this giant of a man. The shirt even smelled like him, masculine and delicious. She couldn’t wait to drag him back to bed.
    She strode out to the kitchen; wearing his shirt made her feel confident, and she was ready to surprise him. Instead she found herself in an empty room.
    Carla wandered throughout the house, slowly growing uncomfortable, but Diego was nowhere to be found. It was eerily quiet, entirely silent except for a few nature sounds from outside. This was nothing like her home back in New York City, where there was always noise coming from somewhere: neighbors shouting, cars honking, music playing on someone else’s radio.
    The silence made her feel lonely. Last night she’d liked the isolation, the sense of being the only two people in the world, but now she wished she had someone, anyone, to talk to.
    Finally she had to admit to herself that Diego was really gone. She went back to the kitchen and slumped dejectedly into a chair. There was a coffee cup sitting on the table, but when she tasted it, it was stone cold. It must have been sitting there for hours.
    How long ago had Diego left? And what was she supposed to do, alone in a house she knew nothing about? And her most serious worry: what kind of man was Diego, if he would abandon her like this after their first night together? Carla had been ready to believe she was in love with him, but he must not feel the same way, not if he had left her so quickly and easily.
    She had to face the reality of the situation. As nice as last night had been, it was only sex. And no matter what her body might say, sex wasn’t the only important part of a relationship. She didn’t know Diego, not who he really was. Apparently he thought nothing of hopping out of bed the next morning and leaving her to wake up on her own. Just like he had left her in the airport. What had that been about, anyway? Why had he made her search for him?
    Carla shook her head. She was reading too much into this. She had to distract herself. Surely Diego would be back soon, and then he would reassure her. She made herself get up to investigate the refrigerator. There wasn’t much there; she remembered him saying that he needed groceries.
    Another sign he wasn’t thinking about you , whispered a treacherous part of her mind, but she refused to acknowledge it. The cabinets weren’t much better. There were left over eggs, but Carla couldn’t face the memories they would bring. At least there was box of cereal; she poured herself a bowl, turned the coffee maker back on, and sat down to eat her first meal in her new home all by herself. She tried not to think of it as an omen for the future.
    She spent the entire morning by herself, as well as part of the afternoon. There wasn’t much to do in a house that had no television or computer, and so she spent most of it fighting the worries that grew stronger and stronger as time passed.
    Diego finally showed up as she was trying to decide what to make for lunch. She didn’t hear the sound of a car arriving, but there were footsteps outside, and then the door opened without anyone knocking first. Carla spun around, startled and glad that she’d gotten dressed instead of spending the entire day in Diego’s shirt – but she didn’t have enough time to be really scared before Diego himself stepped inside.
    He looked good. Really good. There was a bit of sweat on his neck and forehead, but it just emphasized the rich golden tones of his skin, making him look like he was glistening. She was struck with the desire to go over and lick him, to taste the salt on his skin...
    No , Carla told herself firmly. No more getting distracted by how hot he is. You need to be a grown-up, not a lust-crazed teenager.
    “Hey,” Diego said. He smiled, like even just the sight of her made him happy, and it sent a warm thrill through Carla’s belly. For a moment she wanted to give