It's Only Temporary

Chapter 23: Awakening (Multimedia)

His body had come to full attention that morning, long before the light managed to reach his conscious mind. He'd been lying on his left side, with his knees curled toward his chest, and the full length of her body spooned against him. His right arm was flung across her hip. His left arm tucked in the space beneath her waist, bent at the elbow, with his forearm locking her in place against him.

The tip of his nose had woken next, tickled by her hair where it nuzzled against the back of her head. He followed the trail of baby-fine wisps to their source at the nape of her neck, and then to the hollow behind her ear. And then his lips had woken up. And his teeth. And the tip of his tongue.

He'd heard the sudden intake of her breath, but his brain hadn't registered the meaning. She'd frozen for a moment. He'd felt the change as every muscle of her body tensed. His arm around her waist had loosened. His mouth had formed a sound - whisper soft - although his mind had not yet woken up enough to comprehend the meaning.

"Penelope."

She'd turned in his arms to face him. His eyes had flickered open.

She had her hair in a messy ponytail, and the loosened tendrils framed her face. He ran his hand across her cheek to smooth a strand out of her eyes.

Those eyes, searching his face. Asking him a silent question. For the life of him, he couldn't think of the answer.

His hand was on her face. His thumb had moved downward from her cheek to trace the outline of her upper lip. Her mouth had parted slightly at his touch. He felt his own lips drifting closer as he watched her eyelids flutter closed. Two little half-moons, fringed in pale white-gold. He'd pressed his lips against the lids.

His brain had started to function just a little then. Something was different. Something about her eyes. The lashes. Were her lashes always so light? Had she done something to them? No, no. Naked, he realized. She usually wore mascara to darken them, but they were blond. Naturally. She was blonde. Natural blonde.

Natural blonde. Somewhere in his mind, an alarm bell started sounding. Natural blonde. He had a rule against natural blondes. He had a rule against a lot of things.

No one under 26.

No one making less than six figures.

No one living outside Manhattan.

No co-workers.

No no no no no....

He couldn't remember exactly what had happened next. Somehow, he'd ended up on his feet. Standing beside the bed. She wouldn't meet his eyes. She had the covers pulled up to her neck to cover herself. What had he said to her?

"I think it's time we re-established some ground rules."

It had seemed like the right decision at the time. He'd stopped it just in time. He hadn't kissed her. He'd never crossed that line.

"It's my fault," he'd said to her. "I'm not blaming you. Completely my fault. I had no business calling you in the middle of night like that."

"OK."

"It won't happen again," he told her.

"I said OK."

"Let's just forget this ever happened. OK?"

"Right." She'd gotten out of the bed then, and headed for the living room. "I'll get going."

"Thank you for--you know. Helping me. Last night."

"No problem."

"I'll see you Monday."

"Tuesday." She retrieved her black winter coat from where she'd left it on the floor. She stood at the door with her back to him as she pulled it on over her pajamas. "Monday is New Years."