His Favorite Mistake (Baby Its Cold Out) by Mary Eason Read Free Book Online Page B

prescribe something to help him sleep, or fight off some bug that his weakened immune system couldn’t shake on its own, until finally, Doctor Stephens had made a rare house call to Brody’s home and almost forced him into the hospital. The doctor insisted on bed rest for a week with no travel and Brody had obliged reluctantly when the doctor told him how close to having pneumonia he’d come.
                  That week had been a turning point for Brody. He had slowed his travel schedule considerably, making only a few trips out of the country each month.
                  For Brody, work proved the only thing that kept him going at times. The one true, tangible thing in his life he could hold onto and say was his. Although he forced himself to cut back on the long work hours, he’d come to despise going home to an empty home, because it only gave him too much time alone to think about her.
                  Reyna said something unintelligible in her sleep, the hand that lay against his chest dropped a little lower. He froze. Then Brody reached to capture it before she could do anymore damage to his self-control. He should do the right thing and leave her bed. Before he gave into the desire threatening to drown out all of his good intentions.
                  With another angry sigh, he pulled her closer, his hands going round her body, curving her into his tautness being careful not to hurt her bruised body, before closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep.
    * * * *
                  Reyna awoke as the sun’s rays filtered through the wall of windows close to her bed.
                  She opened her eyes, lost for a moment. She glanced around the unfamiliar room. Then she remembered. She was in Brody’s home now. At least until she could find a job and support herself. She sat slowly up in bed while faint disturbing memories played through her mind. Had it been real, or just a figment of her troubled imagination? Some displaced need in her conjuring up Brody’s comforting arms after the nightmare of Cade that haunted her sleeping hours, leaving her physically exhausted.
                  Reyna’s hand slid down the sheet, touching something. She glanced down at the white piece of paper that held Brody’s distinct handwriting. Her gaze going to the pillow next to hers, a wave of weakness swept through her.
                  It was real after all. Brody had been there with her. Several times during the night, she had dreamt of awakening as some unsettling uneasiness crept into her dreams and always, his arms had been there, around her, comforting her. She had been so certain they were just a dream. Just a figment of all her hopeless longings.
                  Now faced with the evidence of his presence, Reyna was afraid of what her reaction to him had been. She still remembered the way he had looked at her after he had forced her shirt up and had seen the bruises Cade left on her body. She remembered Brody’s reaction to them. How easily he had believed the worst about her. She hated Brody’s reaction. He was her friend—the only true friend she had left. He had come to her out of friendship.
                  So why should the thought of him holding her while she slept fill her with so much hopeless yearning? Because she wanted so much more than just his comfort. She wondered just how many other women had wanted the very same thing from Brody. How many others had shared his bed with a different outcome and craved to be loved by him?
                  Reyna shook her head trying to dispel the dismal mood that had come over her. She had no right to think about such things. They were none of her business. They were out of reach for her. Brody was her friend and that’s all he would ever be.
                  She glanced at the piece of paper reading his words. His note was impersonal. He was