Chapter 18

Every atom in his body wanted to argue her point. But she was right. He'd stood in his apartment not five days ago and told her their attraction couldn't be acted upon. Yet, his damn protective beast couldn't be caged, not with her, and for months, he'd been rattling the chains of restraint, roaring to get free. He was this close to saying screw common sense.

She chewed her lip. "Mrs. Atherton is coming our way. Widow, chairman of the garden society, and just had her first grandchild. A girl. I'm going to run to the restroom. Ask her to see pictures of the baby. It'll keep her occupied while I'm gone." She went to step around him. "And remember to smile, Mr. Gaines."

Her barb at addressing him formally hit its mark. Napalm right to the chest. To avoid a nervous tick or fidget, he fisted the coin in his left pocket and rubbed his thumb over the engraving as a woman approached.

Shit. What was her name? He couldn't recall, but he held out his hand. "You're looking beautiful this evening. I hear congratulations are in order. Do you happen to have any pictures of your new addition?"

Two grueling hours later, Xavier dismissed Joseph once they were at the limousine and sent him home. Though she hadn't outright agreed, Peyton would be staying at Xavier's place tonight, and the mansion had more than enough security. As Archie wound the vehicle through the streets, her eyes grew heavier by the city block until, finally, she closed them altogether.

From the seat across from hers, he watched her sleepthe play of light and shadow on her face, her angelic featuresand his throat pinched. He'd always admired her beautiful heart, her intellect, her damn adorable charm, and her ability to do her job above all else. But the sheer, utter longing inside him was beginning to consume.

He'd had no connection to previous lovers other than a physical interest. Hell, half of them he couldn't even spout a solitary personality trait. But, Peyton? He knew every expression, each mannerism and its meaning. She had upwards of thirty variations of her smile, and he could give a detailed account of all of them, could write a book of code describing them.

No woman had ever made him want like she did. Ache. To the point of agony.

The limo drove over the hills San Francisco was known for and eventually turned into his gated driveway. Maples lined the long path, interspersed with lampposts. Archie would've alerted the butler, Sam, that they were coming, and proved Xavier correct when they pulled up to his federal colonial style home and found the lights were glowing.

Xavier knelt in front of Peyton and brushed his knuckles over her arm. "Hey, we're here." She didn't stir. Not even a flutter of her lashes. He glanced at Archie, the open door between them. "Let Sam know we're headed inside."

With a nod, his driver turned and climbed the brick stairs to the wide double front doors.

Xavier tried once more to wake her and gave up. She was, no doubt, exhausted. He stripped out of his coat, loosened his tie, and set the items on the seat.

Carefully, he slid an arm around her back and under her legs, lifting her from the vehicle. Cinching her snug against his chest, he glanced down at her. Dark lashes fanned her cheeks and her red lips were slightly parted, her breathing deep and even. With her cheek on his bicep and her hair cascading everywhere, his knees nearly buckled.

"You sure know how to stop a man's heart, honey," he whispered.

The door opened at the top of the stairs and Sam stood next to Archie in blue striped sleepwear. Normally, Xavier didn't require Sam's services after eight and he felt terrible for summoning him. Archie and Sam were brothers, both with light cocoa skin and graying hair cropped close to their heads. And both gentlemen had worry lines creasing their foreheads as Xavier climbed the stairs, Peyton in his arms.

"You can go, Archie. Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

"Is Miss Peyton all right, sir?" Sam followed him inside and shut the door.

"She's fine. Just tired." Xavier glanced up the long, winding staircase and thought about asking if the guestroom was made up. "You can go back to sleep. I've got her."

Sam nodded and headed toward the kitchen, where the entrance to the staff quarters were located.

Climbing the stairs, Xavier tried not to jar her. At the top, he glanced left at the guest accommodations, then turned right. Unsure what the hell he was doing, he wove down the long corridor, past several other rooms, and entered his bedroom suite. He set her in a chair so he could turn down the bed, then froze, staring at her.

Have mercy, but she was in his bedroom, where no other woman had been, and she looked so damn...right. Perfect.

She didn't have her glasses on, which meant he'd have to wake her anyway so she could take out her contacts. He figured she wouldn't want to sleep in a gown, either. Crouching in front of her, he wondered if she was still pissed off at him. She had every right.

"Peyton." He took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "Peyton, honey. Wake up."