Early to Bed?

Lily stared at him. He was sitting on the other side of the breakfast tray he’d prepared for her—bronze skin, chocolate-colored eyes, and a body that ancient artists had trapped countless time in bronze or marble. And he was trying to convince her to make love with him again. All she had to do was reach out and—it took all her strength to summon up the faces of those who didn’t believe that she could handle this job for McNeil Enterprises—her father, her stepbrother, her stepmother. “We’re not talking about baseball here.”

“True.” He picked up a fork and sliced into the omelette. “Here, try a bite of this. Maybe my cooking will change your mind.”

“No.” She noticed that the “no” was easier to say this time. The focusing was working. “I’m on a diet. And you’re not going to change my mind.”

“Why are you on a diet? You’re perfect.”

The look of complete amazement on his face had a little ribbon of warmth unwinding through her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever describing her as even close to perfect. Focus, she reminded herself.

“I just lost twenty-five pounds, and I’m not gaining it back.” She glanced at her watch. “Which reminds me, I have to run. What floor is your health club on?”

He was studying her and a small frown had appeared on his brow. “It’s on the renovation list.”

It was her turn to be shocked. “Where do you send your guests if they want to use a treadmill or work out?”

Tony ran a hand through his hair. “We don’t.”

“You should at least have a route mapped out for them so that they can run on the street. I’ll take care of it for you.” She lifted the tray and handed it to him. “Now, if you’ll just let me get dressed for my run…”

Tony set the tray on the nightstand. “You’re not running on the street alone. Wait until noon, and I can go with you.”

“I don’t need—”