Maybe she was insane or at least downright crazy, but there was no way she could walk away from him after hearing him say those words in that pleading tone.

“If you’re asking me to commit to a genuine relationship,” he continued, “I’ll do it if it means I get to have you in my life. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

Even though alarm bells were ringing loudly in her mind, Ella pretended not to hear them. How could she possibly pay any attention to them when the man of her dreams had just said what she’d waited years to hear? He felt better when she was around. He needed her. He’d take her any way he could get her. She could work with that, couldn’t she? She could damned well try.

“I-I should probably go,” she said, though that was the last thing she wanted to do. “It’s getting late.”

“Stay.”

Never had one word packed a bigger wallop. Ella was on the verge of hyperventilation. Spend a whole night with Gavin Guthrie? She needed oxygen. She needed a reality check. She needed a toothbrush.

“Ella? Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course I am. I was just thinking about what I need to do tomorrow. I have . . . Dinner. With my family.” For God’s sake, Ella, he’s not asking you to move in. What the hell does dinner have to do with anything? You’ve waited forever for an opportunity to be close to him, and you’re bungling it! “That’s later in the day.”

“So nothing in the morning?”

He didn’t need to know that Sunday morning was her usual errand time. Gavin Guthrie was asking her to sleep over. Groceries could wait. “No, nothing in the morning.”

“Great, then you can stay?”

“I . . . um . . . Sure. Okay.” The last word came out as a squeak that she covered by coughing. She was acting like a virgin on the threshold of the big event, when she was a long way from that. But having the man she’d adored from afar for her entire adult life ask her to spend the night with him wasn’t something that happened every day.

Suddenly, she was far more nervous than she’d been the night she’d lost her virginity. This felt like a much bigger deal in every possible way.

“You’re freaking out, aren’t you?” he asked.

“What? No, I’m not freaking out.”

He smiled, as if he didn’t believe her, and got up from the sofa to offer his hand. “Come on. Let’s find you something to sleep in.”

Following him and holding his hand as he turned off lights and led the way to his bedroom, Ella wanted to wave her free hand in front of her face to cool herself off. She was on the verge of seriously overheating—and blowing this up into the most important event of her entire life. But wasn’t it? Wasn’t it quite possibly the single most important thing she’d ever done?

She began to feel a bit nauseated, which was definitely not the mood she was going for. Stop overthinking it. You’re not going to have sex with him. You’re only going to sleep with him. But what if he thinks I agreed to sex? Did I agree to sex? Am I hyperventilating? How will I know? I’ve never hyperventilated before.

The flannel shirt he’d worn earlier was lying across the foot of his bed. “This is fine,” she said as she released his hand and reached for the shirt.

“Bathroom is right in there. There should be extra toothbrushes in the cabinet. Let me know if you can’t find one.”

“Okay, thanks.” Ella ducked into the bathroom, thankful for the moment alone to collect herself. If he could act like this was no big deal, she could, too. Or she could at least try to act like it was no big deal when it was the biggest of big deals.

Moving quickly, she removed her boots, jeans and sweater. After a brief debate, she took off her bra, too, because she’d never be able to sleep with it on. She pulled on the flannel shirt that fell to her thighs. The shirt smelled like him. Unashamed, Ella took a full minute to breathe in the rich, appealing scent of him coming from the shirt.

Yeah, she had it bad, and it was going to get worse before this night was over. Of that she had no doubt. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she fumbled with the buttons, managing to button the shirt wrong the first time.

In the cabinet, she looked for a toothbrush and encountered an economy-sized box of condoms. And yes, she checked to see if it was opened—it wasn’t. As she put it back on the shelf, she noticed the size: extra large. She took a moment to daydream about Gavin Guthrie’s extra-large—

Oh, for God’s sake! Did she really need to know what size condoms he bought? It wasn’t bad information to have. But why the big box? Who was he planning to get busy with?

“Toothbrush, Ella,” she muttered, aggravated with herself and now him, too, because she couldn’t very well go out there and ask him who he’d bought all those condoms for. She found an unopened toothbrush and used his Colgate-with-whitening toothpaste. No wonder his smile was so perfect, and yes, she was being ridiculous glomming on to these little details the way a stalker would.

And then she spotted a bottle of cologne on the counter, and being only human, she had to take a good long sniff and then sigh with the pleasure. Gucci Black. Sigh . . . Here was the essence of Gavin in a bottle. Put it down, walk away, brush your teeth and stop acting like a freak!

Ella hated when common sense interrupted her daydreaming. She brushed her teeth and used his brush on her hair, trying not to think about her hair intermingling with his on the brush because that would be weird.

Then she took a long look in the mirror, summoning the calm control she needed to get through this night with him. Wouldn’t it be something if she’d waited all this time for a chance with him only to blow it by acting like a lovesick freak? What if he caught her sniffing his cologne? Or worse, his shirt?

Stop! Just stop it and be normal. Except she had no idea how to “be normal” when Gavin Guthrie was in the room, let alone next to her in a bed. She was never going to survive sleeping with him.

She emerged from the bathroom to discover a whole new challenge. Gavin had removed his T-shirt and sweats and was sitting on the bed wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Holy hell. And she was supposed to act normal in the face of his insane hotness?

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, brushing by her. “I’ll be right out.”

If he looked in the cabinet, he would know she’d seen the huge box of condoms that were in front of the toothbrushes. What did it matter if she’d seen them? It wasn’t like they were going to need them. Or were they? What did he think was going to happen here tonight? What if he came out of the bathroom with the box in hand, prepared to get down and dirty?

Before she could do something ridiculous like pass out on the floor of his bedroom by failing to breathe, she got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She couldn’t be lying there like a mummy when he came out, so she turned on her side and confronted that yummy scent all over again on his pillow. Wait! Was this his side of the bed? Should she be on the other side?

“Oh my God, Ella, calm the hell down before you have a stroke.” Wouldn’t that be something? Imagine the story I could tell . . . On my first night with Gavin, after years of lusting after him, I stroked out from the thought of sharing a bed with him, so he had to take me to the emergency room where we spent a very romantic evening with me attached to IV poles.

The soft flannel of his shirt abraded her nipples, which were apparently standing at full alert, aware that something monumental was about to happen. By the time Gavin emerged from the bathroom, shut off the light and slid into bed next to her, Ella was on the verge of a full-on thermonuclear meltdown.

She’d told herself she could do this. She could get closer to him, knowing she might be setting herself up for disaster if he happened to change his mind at some point along the way. But after this, after sharing a bed with him, after sleeping next to him and God knows what else might happen during the night? Yeah, she’d never get over it if he decided to walk away after that.