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deal with the hornet’s nest on her head. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. Then she yanked her brush out of the basket on the vanity and tackled the worst of the snarls.
    “It’s hopeless,” she muttered.
    “Hardly.” He came up behind her. “Give me the brush.”
    “Why?” Her pulse galloped like a runaway horse. “So you can paddle my ass?”
    “Now there’s a thought. No, so I can take care of this for you.”
    “I’m going to shower soon. You really don’t have to bother.“
    “It’s easier to wash your hair if it’s untangled, right?” he asked, his voice oozing patience.
    “Yeah, I suppose.” She handed over her brush, figuring he’d batter her until she gave in anyway. He dragged the bristles through her hair, roughly at first. Her wince caused him to gentle his strokes. Soon he was brushing the full length in long, even glides, caressing her scalp with each movement.
    Her breath trembled out from between her parted lips, and she closed her eyes, somehow embarrassed by how intimate this looked reflected in the glass. If he’d been kneeling before her with his mouth between her legs, she wouldn’t have shied away from watching him. But his hot expression as he pleasured her this way drove the intensity level between them up by miles.
    “This is fine.” She cleared her throat and shifted to look at him, maintaining eye contact even when she wanted to retreat and put a little distance between them. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” He wound a strand around his finger, pulling lightly. “I bet you want that shower.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m sure this is my cue to leave.”
    In lieu of an answer, she reached for the gaping open vee of her nightgown. Despite its lack of style, she’d kept it for nights she wanted comfort. Nights she spent alone, or in bed with a man who eventually grew to view her as not much more provocative than the furniture. Pete had certainly never looked at her like this , his stare following her fingers as if he couldn’t wait to see what she revealed.
    “I’d really rather you stay,” she murmured.

Chapter Four
    As Brad stepped forward, Sara shook her head, wanting to make sure he understood what she was offering. “But I’m still—”
    “I understand. You’re sick.” He helped her out of the nightgown in record time. “I’m not some lech.”
    “No? Dammit.”
    But he didn’t grin. He was too busy taking in her curves as she shrugged off the nightgown and set it aside. She liked her body and thought she’d aged well. Most of the time when she checked herself out, she could bury the complaints she had in positives. She had nice breasts, a small waist. Decent legs. But she also didn’t normally compare herself to women like Brad’s ex, who probably thought twenty-eight was old.
    She had to say something. Just had to. As much as she wanted to absorb the appreciation in his clear, bluish-gray eyes, nerves rose up again. “I’m not shy, and I’m not indecisive. Most of the time. But that doesn’t mean I’m incapable of noticing differences.”
    He lifted her chin with a single fingertip. “I want you. And only you. If there’s anyone else in this bathroom, you’re inviting them here. Not me.”
    She nodded and wet her lips. In other words, if she didn’t stop making him prove his desire, she might not have to worry. Nothing drove a man away faster than insecurity. And that wasn’t her. She wasn’t some shrinking violet without a clue as to her own worth. Any guy would be lucky to have her.
    Even Brad.
    This didn’t have to be some big huge issue if she didn’t make it into one. They could…explore, see how things went. If she laid down the ground rules, she’d have to trust he would abide by them. She’d have to trust him.
    “I’m happy here,” she said quietly. “Living with you and Kim. I know it’s not a permanent arrangement, but for the time being, it works for me. It’s not that I