Early to Bed?. Cara Summers

The cold shower hadn’t. Heaven knew after the night they’d spent, he should be sated with her, but he’d barely made it out of bed without waking her to make love again.

      That was more than enough to give him pause. He couldn’t recall another woman who’d ever threatened his control the way she did. As he measured water and scooped coffee into the coffeemaker, he reviewed the problem.

      His father’s warning to beware of J. R. McNeil no doubt included his daughter, too.

      So—bottom line and in a nutshell—he’d just spent the night sleeping with the enemy.

      And in spite of the fact that it probably wasn’t a very good move on his part, making love to Lily McNeil had felt very right. So right that he wanted to do it again—and soon.

      On the bright side, what he knew about her so far made him believe that she had an honest streak in her that ran bone deep. During the night they’d spent together, she’d delivered on every promise that that sexy, throaty voice had made. And then some. Her lovemaking was honest, generous and incredible.

      And he definitely wanted to repeat the experience.

      As he reached for a mug, Tony sighed. Clearly, his judgment on the matter of Lily McNeil was not totally impartial and objective. And dammit, the contrasts that he’d noticed so far about her just plain fascinated him. He shifted his gaze to the living room where her neat, classy clothes hung on the back of a chair. She wore that during the day, then sweats and a tank top to bed. Who was she really? Was she the corporate shark or Goldilocks? Not that those two categories were mutually exclusive.

      As the coffeemaker made its last gasping sputter, Tony reached for the carafe, filled a mug and took one long swallow. He welcomed the heat that burned his tongue and seared his throat. That along with the jolt of caffeine should help him to come up with a plan.

      Another point on the bright side—Dame Vera had predicted that his luck was about to change. Normally, he wouldn’t have paid much attention to her reading of his palm. He’d only let her do it to humor her. But he’d been feeling the same thing for the past few days. Ever since Lily had first called him, he’d had a feeling that something was about to happen—and it would be good, for a change.

      He took a second swallow of his coffee, then grabbed the carafe and refilled his mug to the brim. What had Dame Vera’s exact words been? He recalled that she’d been gazing at his hand, tracing a line that started between his thumb and forefinger and ran crookedly to his wrist. He took another sip of his coffee and concentrated hard.

      “Luck is coming your way. If you have the courage to grab it, everything will change.”

      Or something to that effect. He’d had a lot on his mind and he’d been late for the poker game at Sam’s when she’d waylaid him.

      But right now, his gut instinct was telling him that Lily McNeil was connected to whatever bit of good fortune fate was offering him. And he’d grabbed her. Now all he had to do was hang on.

      At the same time, the little voice of reason was trying to make itself heard at the back of his mind. “What if the change is a bad one? What if you end up losing Henry’s Place?”

      He was still frowning when he’d finished his second mug. Then he turned to a time-tested strategy, one that had never failed him when he needed to work through a problem—cooking. He didn’t have any porridge, but he could fix his Goldilocks an omelette.

      By the time he’d finished shredding cheese and dicing herbs, he had it pretty well figured out. Point one: If Lily was here to spy on Henry’s Place for her father’s company, two could play that game. The more inside information he had, the better he’d be able to handle her father when McNeil Enterprises made its next move.

      Point two: On a personal level, he’d be able to find out just what it was about Lily McNeil that had his hormones regressing to his adolescent years. He cracked eggs into a bowl and began to whip them into a froth. Point three: He could pick her brain. He’d had Sam check into her background, and she’d spent the past two years working in a small but exclusive hotel chain in Europe. She could be his key to saving Henry’s Place.

      His plan was to keep in very close contact with Lily McNeil. All in all, he could see no downside to the situation.

      Especially when he had it on good authority that his luck had changed.

      LILY CAME AWAKE slowly. She could feel herself floating up to the surface, but she didn’t open her eyes, not yet. She felt too good just where she was. Her muscles were relaxed, loose…and just a little sore? Her first thought was that she was still in Tahiti where she’d run on the sandy beach every day. She burrowed more deeply into her pillow, but in the end, it was her senses that betrayed her—the sunshine pricking at her eyelids, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, and the sound of someone singing. She opened one eye. The song was familiar—an old Beatles song. The voice was decidedly male—and he was singing off key.

      Lily shot straight up in bed and opened the other eye. Any hope that she was still in Tahiti vanished the moment she saw the New York City skyscrapers through the glass wall to her left. Memory came flooding back. She was in Manhattan in Henry’s Place, and she’d just spent the night in a bed made for lovers. Correction. She’d just spent the night having crazy, wild and thoroughly incredible sex with a complete stranger in a bed made for lovers.

      Covering her face with her hands, she sank back against the pillows and groaned.

      “I guess you’re not a morning person.”

      She felt her stomach plummet as she spread her fingers and peered through them. Yep. There was her dream lover in the flesh—just as she’d conjured him up. She narrowed her eyes and spread her fingers a little wider. Only perhaps, she’d had a little assistance with her visualization. Her stomach sank even further as she recognized the man standing at the foot of the bed as the tall man in the photograph she’d picked up in the living room. He was one of the Romanos.

      “Try some of this.” He smiled as he set a tray in front of her. She dropped her hands from her face and forced herself to look at the tray. The omelette was fluffy, the toast crisp and the coffee smelled heavenly. But she could smell him above it—that distinctive scent that was his alone. And it was making her melt again. “I’m sorry. I don’t eat breakfast.”

      “You don’t eat breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day.”

      The genuine shock in his tone had her glancing up. “I run first thing in the morning. All that food will slow me down. I might even get a cramp.” She reached for the mug of coffee.

      “Careful. It’s hot.”

      She sipped cautiously, closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Then she took two more swallows before she opened her eyes and lifted her gaze again to meet his. She cleared her throat. “Maybe we ought to introduce ourselves.”

      He smiled and held out his hand. “I’m Tony Romano.”

      “No.” She set the coffee down so hard that it would have spilled if he hadn’t steadied the mug. “You can’t be.”

      “I could show you my driver’s license.”

      In her mind, Lily pictured the black cloud she thought she’d escaped from settling over her head like a permanent lid. Dame Vera’s words came back to her. Disaster lies ahead. Not that she had to worry about that anymore. The disaster had arrived in the flesh, and he was standing right beside her bed.

      She was just going to have to deal with it. “That won’t be necessary. I believe you.” She cleared her throat again. “I’m Lily McNeil.”

      “I know.”

      She stared at him. “You know who I am? How?”

      “When I walked in last night and saw you sleeping on the couch, my first thought was that you were Goldilocks. And then I saw the tag on your suitcase.”

      “You snooped?”

      “The