He knocked lightly, and waited, but there was no reply, and after a moment he opened the door and went quietly in.He trod silently over to the bed and stood looking down at its occupant, his brows drawn together in a frown. The bedside lamp was still on, so she must have fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.She was lying motionless, her breathing soft and regular. Her cheek was cradled on her hand, and the strap of one of Julie's excuses for a nightgown had slipped down from her shoulder, giving her an air of curious vulnerability. Something glistened on her face and, as he bent closer to extinguish the lamp he realised that it was a solitary tear.His hand lifted, obeying an involuntary impulse to wipe it away, but he managed to control it just in time.He needed to get a grip, he adjured himself. Next thing he'd be hitching up that errant strap and smoothing those absurd spikes of black hair. Tucking her in for the night, for God's sake. And there was no room for that because, as they said, this was business—not personal.He switched off the lamp and straightened, leaving just the moonlight flooding through the undrawn curtains.Chellie stirred suddenly in her sleep, murmuring something, and Ash backed hastily away from the bed, feeling his foot catch against an object on the floor as he did so.He glanced down and saw that it was her bag, and that the black dress she'd worn at the club was spilling out of it.He paused, jolted by the sudden memory of how pale her skin had looked against it, and the smooth, supple movement of her body as she danced for him.Remembered too that there'd been a moment when he'd let himself forget why he was there.
