Not Quite Enough (Not Quite #3)(66)
Author: Catherine Bybee

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“Until you know this is more than just physical. Until you stop referring to yourself as the Ice Queen.”

Talk about uncharted territory. This was safer, somehow, and if their experiment didn’t work Monica would know that she hadn’t ruined him for other women.

She reached down and held his hand. “So, what do two people, who want to jump each other’s bones, but can’t, do on a Tuesday night?”

“I don’t know. What were you doing before I came over?”

“I had the TV on, but I was on the Internet.”

“Playing games?”

“No. I was searching for schools.”

The smile on his face fell. “You’re going to get your license back.”

She squeezed his arm. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m looking into going back to school, getting my masters in nurse practitioners. That way no one will ever be able to accuse me of working outside of my license again.”

He motioned toward the couch. “Show me.”

They walked to the couch and when she sat down beside Trent he pulled her into his side and looked over her shoulder as she showed him the different schools that offered NP classes. “At first I thought someplace close by. But I’m not going back to Pomona General. I can’t, not after all this.”

“So where are you thinking?”

“There are a couple places in San Francisco. I’m not sure if I’ll like living in the city and it’s so expensive.” She clicked the next page and Trent pointed at an East Coast location. “That’s close to our headquarters.”

Monica found herself grinning at him. “There’s always San Diego. Warm beaches. Sunshine.”

Trent clicked the page back to the East Coast selection. “Don’t be afraid of a little snow. Warm fires and hot cocoa. It’s an option.”

They spent the next couple of hours talking about schools, locations, all the while not having sex.

“I should get some sleep,” Monica finally said when it was close to midnight.

“That’s my cue, huh?”

Yet she didn’t want him to leave.

“I need to call a cab.”

“A cab?”

Trent itched the side of his face and glanced at the floor. “Yeah, I left my car at Joe’s.”

“The bar?”

“Yeah. Kind of a dive.”

“Very much a dive. What were you doing there?”

He still didn’t look at her. “I may have ‘accidentally’ run into Walt.”

“Accidentally?”

“And I may have told him that you and I hooked up and I was staying with you.”

She wanted to be mad at him, but his confession was said with such a cute face all she could do was grin. “Is that right?”

“And I may have had one too many and asked him to drive me here.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. Seems you got over the don’t tell white lies rule you had.” It was nice to know he worked so hard to find her.

“I guess I did.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head with a yawn.

The thought of him leaving emptied something inside her. “It’s late. Why don’t you just stay?”

He cocked his head to the side. “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not like we haven’t slept beside each other without… you know.”

“That would have proven difficult under the circumstances.”

She closed her laptop and set it aside. “If you want to go back to the hotel…”

“I didn’t say that.”

She wanted to clap but settled for a smile. “You can’t sleep naked. That would be like dangling a carrot before the horse.”

He lifted a brow. “A carrot?”

“OK a sausage before a bowl of spaghetti.”

He busted out laughing. “Not sure that’s better.”

“I’ll take the bathroom first.”

When they were both finished freshening up for a night of sleeping and not sex, Trent crawled into bed beside her and pulled her into him. Monica looked over her shoulder and kissed him. “Good night.”

“Good night, Monica.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The first time she woke in the middle of the night, Trent stroked her hair, and helped her fall back asleep. She curled next to him like a cat and murmured his name as she dozed. The second time Trent didn’t think she would remember. He felt her stirring beside him and realized he’d rolled over while he slept. Once he pulled her close, she settled.

He sat awake after that for some time. He’d had his share of nightmares since Jamaica, but never more than one in a night, and only a couple per week in the beginning. In the past month he could count on one hand the times his sleep had been interrupted with memories. Although he hoped her restless night was a rarity, he heard Jack’s words in his head and knew it probably wasn’t.

Trent kissed the top of her head and dropped off again.

The sound of water flowing in the pipes of the apartment woke him. Inside the bathroom he heard Monica humming and Trent felt a smile on his lips. What would it take to slip into the shower with her?

His body responded to the thought and he rolled over with a groan. Had he actually agreed to a no-sex relationship with the most beautiful woman he’d ever known?

God, he must have been desperate last night to agree to that stipulation. Then it dawned on him, he’d suggested it. Maybe he had drunk too much yesterday.

Trent slipped out of Monica’s bed, pulled on his pants, and padded with bare feet into her kitchen. He found her supply of coffee and prepared a pot.

The apartment was well laid out. The furniture looked to be new, the flat-screen TV would do a game day proud. There were silk flowers instead of live ones and a few childish art pictures hanging on her refrigerator along with a magnetic picture frame housing the artist. He was sipping his coffee and studying the picture of what Trent thought was a boy holding the leash of either a really big dog, or a very skinny horse. “To Auntie Monica,” was written on the bottom followed by, “From Danny.”

The fresh floral scent of Monica’s skin preceded her into the room. She walked into the kitchen and Trent forgot to breathe. Her skin was pink and scrubbed clean, her face was void of any makeup, and her hair was still wet, dripping. A small bead of water fell down to her shoulder, past the slim spaghetti strap of the small top she wore, and disappeared between her br**sts.