Page 29 of Carly's Heart

“Are you cold?”

“No. I’m good.” She fell quiet and when he was certain she’d drifted off, she said, “Do you ever think about marriage?” Her tone was sleepy and melancholy.

The question went straight to his heart, and his groin. “I do. I want a wife and children. My own kids, her kids, adopted kids. It doesn’t matter. I love kids.”

“So, you’d marry someone who’d been married before?” she asked sleepily.

“Yes, I would. I even know a woman with a child who I’d date and marry.” He dropped the broad hint hoping she wasn’t too far gone in sleep or under the influence of wine to catch his meaning.

“Too bad, because I kind of like you and I love your house.” She hiccupped and let out a soft sighing snore.

Elation washed over him. Finally, after years of hoping she’d notice him, she was in his house, open to a relationship, and close enough to touch. Too bad she was drinking; he’d never take advantage of that. Nor would he wake her after the brutal day she’d had.

He went to the bedroom to change out of his tux, and came back with a couple of pillows and the fluffy quilt his sister had made him. He lifted her head and slid a pillow under it. After stoking the fire, he lay behind her without touching her, and covered them both up. He’d stay with her in case she woke up and needed to go home.

He told himself he wasn’t staying because he’d fantasized about her in this spot a hundred times while building their house. Yes, their house. He’d heard her talk about what she wanted in a home and had incorporated her ideas into his plans. The entire time he designed and built the house, with every nail and screw, he’d envisioned her here, in his arms. She wasn’t in his arms, but close enough. For now.

♥ Chapter Fourteen ♥

Carly woke with an ache in her hip. The bed was hard and extra warm. She blinked her eyes open and came face to face with a man’s five o’clock shadow. She jerked backwards. What was she doing cuddled up to Birch? Surely, she hadn’t been drunk enough to...

No, he wasn’t the type to take advantage, she hoped, and she was still clothed.

“Morning,” he grumbled without opening his eyes.

“Um. Morning?” Definitely morning, golden sun streamed through the tiny slits between the blinds, shining painfully bright off the gleaming hardwood floors.

“You fell asleep. I covered you up. I guess I went to sleep too. Of course, I didn’t think you’d attack me in my sleep.” He smiled without opening his eyes.

“What?” She realized that her leg was swung across his thighs, dangerously close to his groin. She yanked her leg back and sat up. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to.”

“Relax, Carly. If it was a problem, I’d have moved. Do I get a good morning kiss?” His smile grew broader, and she was tempted to give him one.

“No. I mean. I hardly know you.”

He sighed. “Finally, I bring a woman home with me. I wine her and dine her, and I can’t even get a kiss,” he teased. He sat up and stretched.

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