The top item on his list lay on her side, facing him. The covers had slipped down and her skimpy pajama top had shifted while she slept, exposing a generous amount of her breasts.
A jolt shot straight to his groin and he suppressed a low groan. God, he wanted her, and the urge to slip into bed with her was so strong he had to clench his teeth. With women, Noah was used to acting on urges, so this new restraint chafed. His surging hormones insisted on seducing and screwing her, but his heart wanted more. When his head finally chimed in, it told him his heart was right. Libby had an underlying distrust of men, even if she would never admit it. She expected men to screw her and leave her. He had to prove he wanted more.
He wasn’t sure how to effectively do that other than to continue to be her friend. But then he risked that she would never see him any other way.
“You’re awake?” Her voice was heavy with sleep, and the husky sound of it stirred him even more. “How late is it?”
He glanced at his phone. “It’s around six.”
“Six? How long have you been awake?”
“Not long.”
She stared at him for several seconds with an intensity that made him want to squirm, but just when he was about to break and ask her what she was thinking, she sat up, leaning over her crossed legs.
“I suppose you have a plan for today,” she teased.
“Of course.”
“More world record sites?”
“Only time will tell.”
She swung her long legs out from under the covers and stood. Her pajama shorts had been pushed up to the crease where her ass met her thighs. Of course, he knew he was only torturing himself with something he couldn’t yet have—but his eyes remained glued to that long expanse of bare skin, his mind drifting to dangerous territory. He imagined those long sexy legs wrapped around his waist as he plunged deep inside her. His hand in her thick dark hair while he kissed her—
“Noah.”
He blinked, only then realizing she’d said something. “What?”
A grin spread across her face. “Where’d you go just now? Thinking about our itinerary?”
If only that were on their itinerary. “Busy day. A lot to think about.”
They were ready to get on the road within less than half an hour. His Facebook alert went off while he was loading his bag in the trunk, and he saw Tiffany had sent him a message.
He’s meeting Eric tomorrow night for drinks.
Shit. He hoped that didn’t mean what he thought it did. Eric?
The other firm.
He had to get there sooner. He had to see Scott Abrahams before he met with the competition.
When they were on I-40 headed west, Noah cast a surreptitious glance at Libby. Many of the women he knew took an hour or more to get ready, but Libby could be up and out the door in thirty minutes, looking more gorgeous than all of those women put together. Today she wore her hair up in a high ponytail. She had on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, which made her dark eyes more pronounced than usual.
“I’d like to try to get to Vegas tonight,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Which means we can’t stop as much today.”
“Oh,” she said with a frown. “Sure.”
Dammit. The sooner he got to Vegas, the sooner he could try to win back Abrahams, but in the scheme of things what was one day? For the business, it could mean everything. Still . . .
“You know what?” he said with a shrug. “Screw it. We’ll just take our time.”
She turned to him with her dazzling smile. “How about you pick a couple of places to stop, and we’ll still plan on making it to Vegas by tonight. How long is the drive?”
He grimaced. “Thirteen hours. Is that too long for you to do in one day?”
She laughed and turned back to face the road. “No. Once a guy I was with drove us from coast to coast in three days. I can handle being in the car.”
Libby had talked about the previous men in her life before, and hell, he’d hung around with her and Mitch plenty of times before the wedding, so the stab of jealousy that seized his gut took him by surprise. He didn’t like the idea of her being with anyone else. “Did you make a lot of stops?”
She laughed again. “If you’re asking if Barry stopped so I could see giant eggs and hairballs . . . no.”
“Barry?” He couldn’t stop the derision from leaking into his voice.
“He was a surfer. Sun-bleached hair. Washboard abs. His legs . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“You remember his name?”
His tone caught her attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He forced himself to take a breath and chill the fuck out. Why was he this jealous of some guy who’d obviously meant nothing to her? “Nothing. Sorry. I haven’t had enough coffee.”
She frowned and shifted in her seat. “I flew out to L.A. to meet a friend. I met him on the beach, and the next thing I knew, I was on this cross-country trip with him and his friends, their surfboards strapped to the top of their van.”
“Van?” He forced himself to laugh.
“A regular Scooby-Doo adventure minus the ghost mystery.”
“What about the mask disguise?” he asked, teasing.
“Oh, there was a mask.”
He wanted to ask her more, but her own tone had changed.
“Let’s just say it was one more hard lesson learned.”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What lesson was that?”