Part 40 (1/2)

”There wasn't a lot of puttering.” Then she laughed. ”And it wasn't a very pretty sight. So, no matter what it tastes like, you're required to praise, lavishly. I need to put the flowers in water.”

He waited while she got a vase and arranged the daffodils on the kitchen counter.

She looked softer tonight, he thought. All feminine and cozy. And she handled each individual bloom as though he'd brought her rubies.

Unable to resist, he lifted his hand to stroke it gently down her hair. She looked up, with surprise, her uncertainty at the show of tenderness evident.

”Is something wrong?”

”No.” Cursing himself, he dropped his hand to his side. ”I like to touch you.”

Her eyes cleared, danced. ”I know.” She turned into his arms, inviting. ”The chicken needs to simmer for a while.” She nipped lightly, teasingly, at his lip. ”An hour, anyway. Why don't we-

”Sit down,” he finished, to keep from exploding. He was not, he absolutely was not, going to drag her down and take her on the kitchen floor.

”Okay.” Left uneasy by his withdrawal, she nodded and picked up her wine again. ”We should enjoy the fire.”

In the living room, she curled up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Obviously, he had something on his mind. She could wait for him to share it with her. It was lovely just sitting here, she thought with a sigh, watching the fire together as dinner cooked and an old Cole Porter tune drifted through the speakers.

It was as if they sat like this every night. Comfortable with each other, knowing there was time, all the time in the world simply to be. After a long, busy day, what better end could there be than to sit beside someone you loved and-

Oh, G.o.d. Her thoughts had her jerking straight upright.Loved. She loved him.

”What's wrong?”

. ”Nothing.” She swallowed hard, fought to keep her voice even. ”Just something I... forgot. I can deal with it later.”

”No shoptalk, okay?”

”No.” She took a hasty sip of wine. ”Fine.”

She couldn't get a decent night's sleep when he wasn't beside her.

She'd had an irresistible urge to cook him a meal. Her heart turned over every time he smiled at her. She'd even been rerouting a business trip with him in mind.

Oh, why hadn't she seen it before? It had been staring her in the face every time she looked in the mirror.

What was she going to do?

Closing her eyes, she ordered her body to relax. Her emotions were her problem, she reminded herself. She was a grown woman who had gone into an affair with the rules plain on both sides. She couldn't-wouldn't-change the terms in midstream.

What was needed was some clear and careful thought. Some time, she added, concentrating on breathing evenly. Then a plan. She was an excellent planner, after all. .

His fingertips brushed lightly over her shoulder. Her pulse scrambled.

”I'd better check on dinner.”

”It hasn't been an hour.” He liked the way she was curled against him, and wanted to keep her there. Stupid to be worried about where they were heading, he decided, letting himself get drunk on the smell of her hair. Where they were now was exactly the right place to be.

”I was... going to make a salad,” she said uncertainly.

”Later.”