The tie was secure, and he came toward the bed. "Isn't that how this family works?"
Her first reaction was to vehemently deny it. But what he'd said touched a nerve and made her think. She turned on her side as he sat next to her on the bed, and then she looked at him.
Her eyes widened as she took in the splendor of the man in pajama bottoms. He was like a Greek statue that had come to life, its cold marble traded in for rounded flesh and hot blood. She backed away across the chenille spread.
"No, you don't," she said warningly. "You just wait a minute! What do you think you're doing?"
His eyebrows arched, all innocence. "Getting ready to go to bed. What do you think?''
She sat up against the headboard, eyes flashing danger, hands clenched into fists. "Not in this bed, you don't."
"I don't see any other beds in this room." He looked sad when she didn't smile. "You wouldn't send me out into the cold when you've got this big huge bed and all these warm covers."
She crossed her arms and thrust out her chin, arming herself against his charm. "There is no way we are sleep ing in the same bed together," she said, her voice rising with emotion. "Just absolutely no way."
"Calm down, Charity."
"I'm quite calm."
"No, you're not." Before she knew what was happening, he had hold of her wrist and had turned her around, so that she found herself lying close against him, her back to him, a prisoner in his hold.
She thrashed helplessly, his hold on her effortlessly confining.
"Calm down," he told her, his lips close to her ear. His free hand stroked her hair. "Let's just talk," he said softly, and almost as though compelled to, she stopped struggling.
"You're so full of tension, you feel as though you'll shatter into a thousand pieces any second." His hand re laxed around her wrist, and she didn't try to get away. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling."
She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. It was strange, but she had a sense that he really cared. And he was right. Her stomach was tight as a knot inside her. Things were spinning out of control, and she felt like a bird keeper trying to get birds into a cage once they'd escaped.
"I'm not feeling anything," she muttered. "I'm numb."
His hand was still smoothing her hair. The gentle touch made her sigh, but she hid it.
"Talk," he coaxed. "Tell me about your family. Tell me what Faith was like as a little girl."