Early to Bed?. Cara Summers

herself, she met his eyes again. “No.”

      “For anything, I mean. I wasn’t exactly gentle with you.”

      She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she recalled exactly how forceful he’d been. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Do I?”

      She saw surprise in his eyes. “No. But you regret what happened last night, don’t you?”

      “I should, but I don’t. I—” She raised both hands and then dropped them. “I just wish we hadn’t started out that way.”

      He took one of her hands and raised it to his lips. “I’ll have to work on my technique.”

      “No.” She read the intent clearly in his eyes and pulled her hand away. “Your technique is fine. It’s great.”

      “I could try for exquisite.”

      She laughed then, and when he sat down on the bed and reached for her, she found it took a great deal of effort to raise a hand to stop him. “No. I can’t. This isn’t the way we should have started out. And it’s not the way I mean to go on.” She drew in a deep breath and let it out.

      “You’re telling me this was a one-night stand and it’s over?”

      “I don’t see the need to put it that way.”

      “What happened to the old rule of three strikes and you’re out?”

      Lily stared at him. He was sitting on the other side of the breakfast tray he’d prepared for her—bronze skin, chocolate-colored eyes, and a body that ancient artists had trapped countless time in bronze or marble. And he was trying to convince her to make love with him again. All she had to do was reach out and—it took all her strength to summon up the faces of those who didn’t believe that she could handle this job for McNeil Enterprises—her father, her stepbrother, her stepmother. “We’re not talking about baseball here.”

      “True.” He picked up a fork and sliced into the omelette. “Here, try a bite of this. Maybe my cooking will change your mind.”

      “No.” She noticed that the “no” was easier to say this time. The focusing was working. “I’m on a diet. And you’re not going to change my mind.”

      “Why are you on a diet? You’re perfect.”

      The look of complete amazement on his face had a little ribbon of warmth unwinding through her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever describing her as even close to perfect. Focus, she reminded herself.

      “I just lost twenty-five pounds, and I’m not gaining it back.” She glanced at her watch. “Which reminds me, I have to run. What floor is your health club on?”

      He was studying her and a small frown had appeared on his brow. “It’s on the renovation list.”

      It was her turn to be shocked. “Where do you send your guests if they want to use a treadmill or work out?”

      Tony ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t.”

      “You should at least have a route mapped out for them so that they can run on the street. I’ll take care of it for you.” She lifted the tray and handed it to him. “Now, if you’ll just let me get dressed for my run…”

      Tony set the tray on the nightstand. “You’re not running on the street alone. Wait until noon, and I can go with you.”

      “I don’t need—”