eyes.
Tom trained his eyes on Caitlin. He didn’t want to look around her room, see her pretty things all around him or want to stay here with her. He was putting her to bed, making sure she was safe.
He wasn’t here because he’d been invited back.
“Will you be all right if I leave you?” he asked, trying to force the huskiness from his voice as he looked at her lying on the bed.
Caitlin’s dress had risen up to expose perfectly shaped, toned lower legs silhouetted in the light of her bedside lamp. They were golden, smooth, feet in pointed shoes with heels that had made her way taller than she was.
Tom looked around the room again instead. Looking at her things instead of her suddenly felt a whole lot safer.
“Tommy?”
He grimaced. Only Gabby ever called him Tommy.
“I’m sooo hungry.”
“That I can help with,” he said, backing out of the room. “Stay put and I’ll make you a sandwich or something.”
Tom tried to think of something else, of work, of anything, but it wasn’t easy. Caitlin was gorgeous, a knockout, in the sweetest, most appealing of ways. Not overconfident or brazenly attractive, but soft and gentle-looking, beautiful like a perfectly proportioned doll.
And she was tiny. His little ballerina was tiny and breakable-looking…
Hell.
Tom rushed into the kitchen and rustled through the fridge. He had to get out of here. She wasn’t his anything, and the quicker he got out of here, the quicker he could come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t ever going to be his anything, either.
He found a turkey breast, sliced it, and slathered some mayo over the bread, starving hungry himself but wanting to get out of her house. He didn’t even pick at the meat, cutting the sandwich in half and looking for a plate.
Whoops! He almost dropped the plate as a loud meow made him jump.
“Do you mind?” Tom glared at the cat.
It only meowed louder.
“Seriously, feline, you’re killing me here.” Tom opened the sandwich to retrieve a piece of turkey for the cat, before closing it up and walking determinedly down the hall.
He was going to pass her the food, say good-night and walk out the door.
Or not.
Caitlin was out for the count, sound asleep. Snoring ever so softly and passed out on the bed.
Tom placed the plate on her side table, carefully slipped her shoes off and pulled up the comforter. She was so peaceful, so beautiful lying there that all he wanted to do was cuddle up right beside her. He craved the idea of closeness, of holding someone and being held, of having a warm, loving body beside his to comfort him.
But that wasn’t in his future now. Or at least not for a long while. He was dealing with too much, felt too much like a failure, even to make himself available to someone. Even to want that life he’d once wanted so badly. Too afraid that he’d pull someone else down and into the fears and pains that haunted him every day.
“Good night,” he whispered, hovering above her, waiting, before dropping a slow kiss to her forehead.
Tom looked down at her and smiled. He doubted she’d even be able to squash a spider, this pretty little teacher who’d made him go all protective tonight.
Tom grabbed half the sandwich and ate it as he left the house, flicking the catch on the door as he walked out.
He stood outside in the chilly night air, swallowed, then stretched his legs. What he needed right now was to run.
A cold shower might have helped, but running was what he did. How he coped with things. Right now his mind was scrambled and he didn’t like it one bit.
Tom ignored the fact he was wearing dress shoes and broke into a slow jog. He inhaled deeply, in and out, clearing his mind, focusing on the pull and release of his muscles, the burn of cool air as it entered his lungs.
Sometimes when he ran it exhausted him enough to stop him from dreaming, too. Sometimes .
Tom stepped up a gear and ran faster.
He hoped tonight was one of those nights.
CHAPTER SEVEN
C
Tom trained his eyes on Caitlin. He didn’t want to look around her room, see her pretty things all around him or want to stay here with her. He was putting her to bed, making sure she was safe.
He wasn’t here because he’d been invited back.
“Will you be all right if I leave you?” he asked, trying to force the huskiness from his voice as he looked at her lying on the bed.
Caitlin’s dress had risen up to expose perfectly shaped, toned lower legs silhouetted in the light of her bedside lamp. They were golden, smooth, feet in pointed shoes with heels that had made her way taller than she was.
Tom looked around the room again instead. Looking at her things instead of her suddenly felt a whole lot safer.
“Tommy?”
He grimaced. Only Gabby ever called him Tommy.
“I’m sooo hungry.”
“That I can help with,” he said, backing out of the room. “Stay put and I’ll make you a sandwich or something.”
Tom tried to think of something else, of work, of anything, but it wasn’t easy. Caitlin was gorgeous, a knockout, in the sweetest, most appealing of ways. Not overconfident or brazenly attractive, but soft and gentle-looking, beautiful like a perfectly proportioned doll.
And she was tiny. His little ballerina was tiny and breakable-looking…
Hell.
Tom rushed into the kitchen and rustled through the fridge. He had to get out of here. She wasn’t his anything, and the quicker he got out of here, the quicker he could come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t ever going to be his anything, either.
He found a turkey breast, sliced it, and slathered some mayo over the bread, starving hungry himself but wanting to get out of her house. He didn’t even pick at the meat, cutting the sandwich in half and looking for a plate.
Whoops! He almost dropped the plate as a loud meow made him jump.
“Do you mind?” Tom glared at the cat.
It only meowed louder.
“Seriously, feline, you’re killing me here.” Tom opened the sandwich to retrieve a piece of turkey for the cat, before closing it up and walking determinedly down the hall.
He was going to pass her the food, say good-night and walk out the door.
Or not.
Caitlin was out for the count, sound asleep. Snoring ever so softly and passed out on the bed.
Tom placed the plate on her side table, carefully slipped her shoes off and pulled up the comforter. She was so peaceful, so beautiful lying there that all he wanted to do was cuddle up right beside her. He craved the idea of closeness, of holding someone and being held, of having a warm, loving body beside his to comfort him.
But that wasn’t in his future now. Or at least not for a long while. He was dealing with too much, felt too much like a failure, even to make himself available to someone. Even to want that life he’d once wanted so badly. Too afraid that he’d pull someone else down and into the fears and pains that haunted him every day.
“Good night,” he whispered, hovering above her, waiting, before dropping a slow kiss to her forehead.
Tom looked down at her and smiled. He doubted she’d even be able to squash a spider, this pretty little teacher who’d made him go all protective tonight.
Tom grabbed half the sandwich and ate it as he left the house, flicking the catch on the door as he walked out.
He stood outside in the chilly night air, swallowed, then stretched his legs. What he needed right now was to run.
A cold shower might have helped, but running was what he did. How he coped with things. Right now his mind was scrambled and he didn’t like it one bit.
Tom ignored the fact he was wearing dress shoes and broke into a slow jog. He inhaled deeply, in and out, clearing his mind, focusing on the pull and release of his muscles, the burn of cool air as it entered his lungs.
Sometimes when he ran it exhausted him enough to stop him from dreaming, too. Sometimes .
Tom stepped up a gear and ran faster.
He hoped tonight was one of those nights.
CHAPTER SEVEN
C
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