While She Was Sleeping... (12 page)

A
LANA WOKE UP
with a sinking feeling that something was wrong. She stared at the ceiling, at the window. Beautiful sunny day again; what was the problem? Sawyer? Melanie? What was today? Tuesday. Hurricane day. She wished she’d gone with her instincts and traveled down to Florida. It was horrible being here unable to help, knowing Gran and Grandad were in danger and probably afraid. Hurricane Cynthia had made a slow, steady track directly for Orlando, in the center of the state, then suddenly veered north, staying a Category Two. But when Alana had spoken to Gran and Grandad the previous evening, it had already started raining, winds were up, there were reports of an extended storm surge at the coast, and it was still hours until the official landfall.

There was nothing worse than having to worry about loved ones in a situation she couldn’t control. How often had she and Melanie lain in Alana’s twin bed in their two-bedroom apartment in West Allis, wondering where their mother was, when she’d be coming back. Whether she was getting herself in trouble, drinking too much, being taken advantage of by some jerk. Whether that jerk would come home with her and live with them for a while, whether he’d be nice to them or
bring creepy friends around who ate, smoke or snorted various substances and were generally terrifying.

A knock sounded at her door; Alana struggled up on her elbows. “Yes?”

“Are you decent?” Sawyer’s deep voice.

“Sort of.” Her blush was starting already, as was the adrenaline rush that leapt into action. He’d been gone a good part of yesterday—which gave Alana plenty of time to make minor repairs Melanie had neglected, and to clean more—but he’d come back to help haul stuff to Goodwill that Melanie had tossed into the basement rather than deal with. Alana had managed to avoid being in any intimate situations with him after dinner—and then was so tense and unsatisfied she’d had to take a sleeping pill in order to drop off.

Sometimes she felt like a mental case.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t—Yes, you can come in.”

The door swung open. The white corner of a lap desk appeared, then arms carrying it, then a body. A fabulous body in jeans and a blue-and-white-striped shirt. On the lap table, a dish covered with an inverted bowl, a bud vase with a pink rose from the garden. “Breakfast is served, Madam.”

“What—” She laughed in delight. “I’ve never had breakfast in bed. Unless I was sick.”

“Then it’s time you did.” He whipped off the bowl covering the plate. “Scrambled eggs, toast with butter and honey, two strips of bacon, extra crispy, and a bowl of blueberries, raspberries and strawberries. Coffee is from Jamaica, with seconds available in the pot.”

“I can’t believe…” She gestured at the food. “Did Melanie help you?”

“Melanie is still asleep. But I quizzed her yesterday on your favorites. And here—” he produced the
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
out from under his arm “—is your paper.”

“Sawyer.” She was oddly close to tears, even while she
couldn’t stop grinning. So far she’d resisted the horrendous temptation to become involved with him, knowing she had to leave. But if he kept up this perfect-man stuff, she didn’t know how long she could hold out. “I don’t know what to say. This is all amazing.”

“And so am I.” He winked and backed toward the door. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Thank you. So much.” Alana only just managed to stop herself asking him not to go. Why would he want to stay here and watch her eat breakfast? She could deal with her worry all by herself—only now she’d get to worry on a full stomach with a fragrant and high-quality source of caffeine, brewed by a man she was afraid she’d fall for no matter what her common sense told her.

The eggs were delicious, creamy and rich, the toast crunchy and sweet, berries fruity and tart. She sighed blissfully at the last bite and unfolded the paper. An envelope fell out,
For Alana
written on the front in unfamiliar handwriting.

Inside, a single sheet of paper:

Oh, wow. She glanced impulsively at the clock. It was just past nine. But what did he mean, her day belonged to him?

“Alana?” Melanie this time.

“Yes, good morning.” She hastily hid the note, not sure why she wanted to keep it from her sister.

“Hey.” Melanie’s blond head peeked around the door, eyes sparkling. “Isn’t it time you dragged your butt out of bed and got going?”

“You know about this?”

“Oh, yes.” She nodded somberly. “I was entrusted with
the important job of making sure you didn’t stay home out of some misguided sense of duty.”

“Misguided?” Alana shoved the tray away and got up onto her knees. “Gran and Grandad—”

“Will be fine. You know they will. And even if they’re not, what can you do about it? Last I checked, weather was one of the few things out of your control.”

“Oh, so funny.” She scowled at her giggling sister and sat back on her heels. “Look, I can’t go. I have to—”

“I figured you out, you know.” She came into the room, arms crossed over her chest, looking smug as hell. “Oh, really.”

“You’re scared.”

“I’m—” She gaped. “Uh, what?”

“You’re scared of what you feel for Sawyer,” she repeated oh so patiently. “Scared that he’s something really special. You want to stay and run away at the same time. You are drawn to being with him and also panicked at the thought.”

“No, I’m—” Alana blinked. She was right about the feelings. But Alana wasn’t going to admit it. “What makes you say that?”

“Ah.” Melanie held up a finger, the brilliant lecturer getting to her most powerful point. “Because it’s exactly what I do. I’ve figured this out, Alana, with Edgar’s help. You and I exhibit opposite symptoms, but it’s the same problem.”

“Opposite symptoms…”

“I go out with wildly unsuitable men. You go out with boring unsuitable men.”

She made a noise of outrage. “No, I—”

“You’re telling me Sam was half as fun as Sawyer?”

“Well…” Oof. Not even half.

“Plus, take note, you dumped him the second he asked for commitment. And before him there was Alan, the economics major. Oh my God, I wanted to take a nap just from the way he said ‘Hello.’”

“Alan was sweet.”

“Yes, he was so-o-o swww…” She pretended to doze off, then jerked herself “awake.” “He wasn’t right for you. You’re spirited and funny and indomitable. You need someone who matches you, not someone you can lead around by the nose.”

Alana folded her arms defiantly. “I did
not
lead—”

“They all but whined ‘Yes, dear’ to everything you said.”

More outrage noises. “No, they—”

“Alana.” Melanie climbed onto the bed, knelt on her heels opposite, pulled Alana’s arms uncrossed. “In every relationship you’ve ever had, who was in charge?”

“It was always fifty-fifty.”

Melanie shook her head, eyes intent but not angry and thank God no longer smug. “Think about it. Just think. Major decisions, minor decisions, where you lived, where you ate, what you had in the refrigerator, how you spent your weekends…”

“No, Melanie, it was—”

“Don’t answer yet.” She took Alana’s hands, gave them a little shake. “Just think. Honestly.”

Alana made herself relax, closed her eyes, frowning, went back over memories, who decided what, how, when…

“Oh. Well…Maybe.” She opened her eyes. “Yes, okay. I’m a dominatrix bitch.”

“You haven’t ever met a guy who really challenges you, who really is up to your level until Sawyer.” She squeezed Alana’s fingers. “It’s exciting, isn’t it.”

Exciting? She felt absolutely miserable. Since when was Melanie the one giving romantic advice? Had Alana fallen this low without noticing?

“It takes you over, makes the world brighter, more exciting, like a drug rush without the bad health effects.”

“Sort of.” The words barely came out. Melanie’s theory better turn out to be as ridiculous as it sounded.

“Welcome to my world. Except no, your world is ten times better. Because Sawyer is an incredible guy.” She dropped Alana’s hands. “A guy who could make you happier than anyone ever has. And if you ask me, you’re already half in love with him anyway, so why not—”

“Wait, whoa, Melanie.” She rose to kneeling in a ludicrous bid to be bigger than her sister. “I’m going to Florida, probably tomorrow, so what’s the point?”

“You don’t have to go.”

Et tu, Melanie?
She bounced off the bed, started pacing. “Of course I have to go. I have an apartment, a job, Gran and Grandad to take care of…”

Melanie shrugged. “Okay.”

Alana stopped pacing. Not like her sister to give up that easily.

“Buk…buk…” Melanie started a weird jerking motion with her head, doubled her arms and flapped them like a chicken. “Buk…buk…buh-
keek.
”

Alana giggled in spite of herself. “Cut that out.”

“Just keep in mind what I said, okay?” Melanie waddled on her knees off the bed and clamped her hand on Alana’s wrist. “I’ll be home if they call. You get dressed and go to the museum. I’ll call your cell if I hear anything. No, don’t object, let me take some of the duty for a change. It will be good for me. Heck, maybe I’ll even freak you out completely and clean up my room since you’ve done the rest of the house.”

“Not the attic yet.” Or the windows. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“God, Alana, you need serious help. Go. Git. Don’t come back until Sawyer is done with you.” She swatted Alana on the hip, then gathered her into a warm, impulsive hug. “And
promise
me.
Promise me
you’ll think about how many people it’s really your job to keep happy besides yourself.”

A
LANA PULLED INTO
the public museum parking lot, nervous and jumpy. She assumed she and Sawyer were going to spend a sedate hour or two inside—what was so threatening about that?

Obviously Melanie’s little talk had left Alana feeling off balance, vulnerable, uncertain. She hadn’t felt this way in a long time. Once Gran and Grandad gave her life ballast, she’d thrived, applied herself to her studies, to her work with Grandad, to her dream of becoming a brilliant, famous and well-compensated photographer.

Yes, well, everyone needed dreams.

When her relationship with Alan went belly-up, she was on the verge of graduating and moving to Chicago; when her relationship with Sam ended, she’d eventually decided to move to Florida. Always a clear purpose. Always a clear idea of who she was and what she wanted and why.

Now…fear of commitment? Deliberately seeking out unsuitable men who wouldn’t challenge her safe version of herself? She could laugh the whole thing off except Melanie’s theories definitely struck some kind of chord.

Since when was Melanie the “together” sister? Since when was she the one stepping back to figure life out rather than drifting from moment to feel-good moment? Maybe she really was turning over a new leaf, Sledge notwithstanding. Maybe she really would evolve. Why did that make Alana feel stuck behind in her old rutty self?

She needed to shake off the uneasiness, have casual fun with Sawyer today and leave for Florida first thing in the morning, back on track. She hadn’t watched her mother throw her life away on one man after another without having learned the importance of counting only on herself. She was strong, she was woman, she could enjoy this day without getting irretrievably deep into feelings for Sawyer, and have fun memories when she moved on with what she was meant to do. What she
wanted
to do. Someday she’d meet the right man at the right time who fit in with her plans.

Good.

She eased her Prius into a parking space, crossed the garage to the museum entrance, heels tapping sharply on the concrete, barely audible over the noise of the air circulation system. Once inside, she strode down the long corridor, past the colorful museum shop, toward the staircase to the exhibit space.

Would he meet her there? He hadn’t arrived yet. She turned…and saw him behind her, halfway down the hallway, approaching in his loose, masculine gait, comfortable and at ease as usual. She grinned and felt herself relaxing. This would be fun. She could handle keeping things light between them and emerge unscathed to tell the tale, not out of Melanie’s “fear of commitment,” but just because it was the healthiest and most sensible way to handle her feelings.

“Hi there.” He kissed her cheek, apparently having done away with his no-touching rule. She wouldn’t object.

“Two surprises in one day, breakfast and now a museum expedition. What have I done to deserve this?”

“It’s more what you don’t deserve.” He held out a green paper entrance bracelet for her to wrap around her wrist. How had he managed to buy tickets already? “You don’t deserve to stay home cleaning on your last day.” The phrase
last day
twisted her stomach.

Steady.

“C’mon.” He took her hand and they started up the stairs to the second floor.

“What are we seeing?”

“Butterflies. The live ones.”

“I don’t know that exhibit.” She’d been through the museum countless times. “Wait, yes, I remember reading articles when it was built.”

“You’ll love it.” He pulled her close as they mounted the
stairs and put his lips to her ear. “And by the way, you look incredibly sexy in those red shorts. Almost as sexy as you looked in bed when I brought you breakfast. It was all I could do to leave the room.”

It was all Alana could do to laugh off his compliment when she wanted to say to hell with her resolve, drag him home, strip him and beg for sex.

Was this what Melanie felt? Was Sawyer Alana’s “dangerous” man? Her Sledge? Maybe she needed to have a little more compassion for Melanie’s…active social life.

“Hey, Alana.”

“Mmm?”

“I know that face. You’re overthinking.” He shook his head sternly. “Today is about fun. Leave the cerebral stuff for tomorrow.”

She smiled and collected herself again. He was just a man she’d met and enjoyed. Nothing about her life had changed. She was going to be fine. “It’s a deal.”