Free Playing with Fire by Mia Dymond

feet underneath her. Once he sank back into
the soft cushions, she reached beside her and turned off the
lamp.
    “What do you usually wear to bed?” she asked
softly.
    “Why?”
    “I want you to relax. Maybe you’ll
sleep.”
    And I really want to know . His body
was probably an inferno of strong, solid muscle. What a shame to
cover it up.
    “Nothing.”
    Heat invaded her cheeks. Surely she hadn’t
spoken aloud. “What?”
    “I sleep naked.”
    “So much for getting ready for bed,” she
mumbled. She stood and tried another approach. “Where’s your
bedroom?”
    His lips twitched. She fought the urge to
groan.
    “Down the hall, first door on the left.”
    She hurried to the bedroom and then returned
with a pillow and a blanket. He grabbed the blanket and draped it
across his lap, but not quickly enough to hide the nice, hard bulge
on display. She licked her lips.
    Shane cleared his throat.
    She plumped the pillow maybe a little too
forcefully then jammed it under his head. “Now, concentrate on the
movie and relax.” She practically ran for her chair.
    Shane exhaled a long breath and rolled over
to watch the screen. Within minutes his eyes drifted closed and his
breathing slowed.
    Liberty glanced at her watch. Twelve thirty
a.m. She’d stay until the movie was over and then wake him to take
her home. Or, she could walk. The streets were well-lit and
patrolled regularly. Ice spread through her stomach as she mulled
that through her head. On second thought, she could call Dylan.
    She snuck a peek at Shane as he lay sleeping,
finally relaxed and peaceful. Behind that awesome body of steel
laid a soft and vulnerable heart. One she was very tempted to claim
as her own. She threw her head back against the chair. Damn.
Damn. Damn .
    She glanced at the television and attempted
to concentrate. Soon, the movie credits filled the screen. She
stretched and stood from the chair in search of her cell phone.
    “Good movie?” Shane’s husky, sleep-ridden
voice beckoned her previous inappropriate thoughts.
    “Yes. Did I wake you?”
    “No, I think I just realized I was asleep.
Does that make sense?”
    “Yes.” She smiled, grateful to distract
herself with knowledge. “You’ve programmed your brain to wake you
if you fall asleep so you won’t dream.”
    “Then why do I have nightmares?”
    She shrugged. “The human brain is a mystery.
That’s why I suggested you change the ending of the dream. You’re
probably actually awake during the nightmare. Your brain has formed
a habit or pattern of broadcasting the nightmare the same way each
time. If you can break the pattern, maybe the nightmares will
stop.”
    He sighed. “I’d rather watch the
Flintstones.”
    “Shane, you can’t put off sleep forever. You
need to relax. Besides, I’ve got a nine o’clock session in the
morning.”
    She stood and pushed a loose bobby pin back
into her hair. “You have my number. Call me if you need
anything.”
    She paused, concerned by the look of utter
terror in his sleepy eyes. “Stay with me,” he croaked.
    Her eyes widened; her mouth followed suit.
“Shane, you’re my patient. I can’t —”
    “No, that’s not what I meant. Just sit by the
bed until I’m asleep.”
    “It’s two thirty in the morning.”
    “I know. Three o’clock is the bewitching
hour.”
    She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth,
contemplating the consequences of what he asked. Although she was
sure staying would push the envelope of ethical conduct, she
honestly didn’t give a damn. He needed her and she could help.
Besides, he didn’t have a clue how much she really understood his
desperation.
    “I don’t think I should walk home in the dark
anyway.”
    He pinched the bridge of his nose and stood.
“Hell. I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
    “Don’t worry, I was going to make you drive
me home anyway.” No way would she ever consider walking alone in
the dark. Not ever again.
    “So if I stay,” she continued, “it will have
to