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striped chair in the living room, she marched to
the door and stopped dead. She didn't have her
car! She would have to call a taxi to take her to her
apartment.
Stacey gritted her teeth. Going back into
Justin's bedroom to use his telephone was the last
thing in the world she wanted to do at this point.
But she had to get home and it was too far to walk.
She would have to call a taxi and she would have to
go into the bedroom to use the phone.
Squaring her shoulders, she entered the bed-
room she had just fled. Her eyes widened at the
sight of Justin lying flat on his back, his eyes
closed. "Justin?" she called warily. He was very
still. Her gaze rested on the bandage on his fore-
head and her heart gave a nervous jump. "Justin,
are you all right?" She took a step closer to the bed.
He opened his eyes. "I thought you'd gone,
Stacey."
"I have to call a taxi. My car is at my parents'
house."
He raised a hand to his temple. "Would you like
to take my car?" he asked in a voice so low she had
to move closer to hear. She stood beside the bed,
looking down at him, her pulses pounding.
"Justin, your head is hurting, isn't it?" Of
course, it was! she thought. How could it not be?
The doctor had prescribed rest and quiet, and the
past half hour had held anything but! The man
was injured, thanks to her, she berated herself,
and she'd compounded his misery by totally
ignoring the doctor's orders. "Justin," she whis-
pered tentatively, daring to touch his thick black
hair.
He closed his eyes and groaned. "You're in pain!"
she cried in alarm.
He groaned again and rolled over onto his side.
"Terribly." His voice was muffled. "Damn, I don't
mean to complain, Stacey. I have no respect for
self-pitying whiners."
"Oh, you're no such thing!" she exclaimed indig-
nantly. "After all you've been through tonight . . .
You've been wonderful, Justin."
He made a sound that she couldn't quite iden-
tify. Probably a moan of agony, she decided
worriedly. The poor man! "Would you like one of
your pain pills, Justin?"
"I'll take one later, after I've made myself some
toast and hot chocolate for dinner. Go ahead and
drive my car home, Stacey. The keys are "
"Justin, I can't leave you at a time like this!" It
was unthinkable! To leave him alone and in pain in
this horrid apartment without any food!
"Will you stay all night?" came the muffled voice.
She continued to stare down at him. Had anyone
ever stayed with him when he was sick or in pain?
she wondered, thinking of a lonely little boy who
had grown up with no home or family of his own.
Her heart contracted with pain for that child and
her compassion went out to the political master-
mind/workaholic who was lying so quietly on the
bed. He was in pain and he needed her. She sud-
denly felt so close to him, as close as she'd felt dur-
ing those intense and passionate times in his
arms.
"Yes, Justin." The urge to touch him was over-
whelming and she gave into it, running her hand
lightly along the muscled length of his arm. "I'll
stay with you."
They ordered a pizza from a nearby pizzeria that
delivered. Justin was unalterably opposed to
Stacey going grocery shopping alone at night, and
it seemed easier to give in to him. She could stock
his kitchen with food tomorrow, she assured
herself.
They sat on the bed, the pizza box between them,
and consumed the whole pie. Justin's injury
hadn't seemed to interfere with his appetite. He ate
five pieces of pizza and Stacey had three.
He had showered and changed into a pair of pale
blue pajamas and she was unable to keep her eyes
off him. She'd never seen him in any other color
but white, black, or gray. He looked wonderful in
blue, she marveled. And the loose fitting pajamas
somehow accentuated the muscular hardness of
his body. She swallowed a gulp of her cola, holding
the aluminum can with nervous fingers. Her
thoughts seemed to be heading compulsively in a
dangerous direction.
"I have some spare pajama tops in the bottom
drawer," he said. He was watching her, his ebony
eyes riveted to her face. "Why don't you have a hot
shower and slip into one of them? Then we can go
to bed."
She choked on her cola. He took the can from her
and leaned forward to stroke her throat. "Are you
all right, precious?"
"Justin, don't!" She was already beginning to
rethink her promise to spend the night. Justin's
headache seemed to have miraculously disap-
peared, sans pain pills, and he looked vital and
virile and overwhelmingly, devastatingly mascu-
line. "I'll sleep in my clothes," she said firmly, back-
ing away from his caressing fingers. "And I'll sleep
on the sofa."
"You're liable to get nightmares from that print,"
he warned with a smile. "And it's too short and too
narrow to be comfortable." He caught her hand
and carried it to his mouth, pressing his lips
against her palm. "Sleep in my bed with me,
Stacey."
His evocative words and his loverlike touch sent
a curl of desire spiraling through her. She drew
back her hand with a half groan. "Justin, this is
insane!"
"Don't be afraid of me, Stacey," he said huskily.
"Let me hold you tonight. That's all I want to hold
you in my arms all through the night."
She felt herself being drawn into the dark
warmth of his ebony eyes. It would be so easy to say
yes! she thought. She was suddenly drained,
completely exhausted both physically and emo-
tionally. The sleepless night before, the tensions of
the day, and the demands of pregnancy on her
body combined to hit her with a mind-numbing
fatigue.
"The doctor said you must have rest and quiet,
Justin," she reminded him. "That precludes "
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