quietly cleaned up the breakfast mess, munching on the last cinnamon roll as she did so.
A shower and change of clothes followed. She needed sleep as well, but that wasn’t an option untilEthan got back. She wasn’t about to leave the door open, and she could hardly expect him to wait outside while she and Gran snoozed. She ignored the imp slyly suggesting that wasn’t her only reason and grabbed a cushion off one of the sofas.
The day outside was cool, but the sun caressed the porch with warmth. She sat on the cushion and leaned back against the wall. The view wasn’t all that inspiring. Beyond her old Mustang there was only a thin expanse of concrete, then more connecting motel units—most of which were empty, which was strange, because it was awfully pretty here in winter. But maybe the news of the kidnappings was keeping the tourists away.
She closed her eyes.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, or how long he’d sat there, watching her. The awareness of him surfaced slowly—a tingle that rose from her toes and spread gently through every fiber, until her breath caught in her throat.
Like her, he sat on the porch, leaning back against one of the posts supporting the porch railing, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His dark hair was damp, his jaw freshly shaved, and he looked damn fine in black jeans and a dark teal shirt.
“A Christmas present from your mother, huh?” she said, eyeing the shirt with a smile.
He raised an eyebrow. “That psychic intuition?”
His voice flowed over her, as warm as cocoa on a cold night. “I don’t know many men who’d walk into a store and buy a teal shirt. If you discount moms, Christmas, and birthdays, the only other options are wives or girlfriends.”
“Of which I have none.”
For which she was fiercely glad. “Because you’re a cop, or because you haven’t found the right woman?”
“Partially both, and partially neither.”
“In other words, you’re not saying?”
He shrugged. “What about yourself? No one waiting back in San Francisco?”
“You’ve been checking up on me.”
“I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”
Yeah, right
. As if the Springfield police department had the time to check the background details of everyone they came in contact with.
“I’m still waiting for a man who likes chocolate as much as I do.” She hesitated, then added impishly, “So where do you stand on the chocolate debate?”
“Can’t stand the stuff.”
She sighed dramatically. “Another dream crumbles to dust.”
Amusement touched the nut-brown depths of his eyes. “That mean we can’t have sex?”
“Hell,
no
.”
“Good.”
Their gazes locked. Her heart began to beat in triple time, and desire burned through her veins. She wanted this man; there was no denying that. But right here and now was hardly practical—on a porch or in a motel room with her grandmother sleeping in the next bed. Gran probably wouldn’t mind the noise, but the mere thought embarrassed the hell out of Kat.
“I need to sleep.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant and was reluctant to ask, simply because the line betweencommon sense and lust was thin enough. Too much more, and common sense hadn’t a hope.
She stood, gathering the cushion as she did. He rose with her, and suddenly the porch seemed far too small. She licked her lips, saw his gaze drop to her mouth, and her throat went dry. He took the step that separated them, and all she could smell was freshly soaped skin and raw masculinity.
Her whole body tingled, as if brought to life by this man’s presence. She’d never felt anything as powerful as this, and she so desperately wanted to make love to him. To feel his hands on her skin, his body on hers. In hers. Save for Gran being in the next bed …
“Gran’s asleep.” Her voice came out husky.
“I know.”
Their bodies barely brushed, yet she was intensely aware of every part of him. From the fire
A shower and change of clothes followed. She needed sleep as well, but that wasn’t an option untilEthan got back. She wasn’t about to leave the door open, and she could hardly expect him to wait outside while she and Gran snoozed. She ignored the imp slyly suggesting that wasn’t her only reason and grabbed a cushion off one of the sofas.
The day outside was cool, but the sun caressed the porch with warmth. She sat on the cushion and leaned back against the wall. The view wasn’t all that inspiring. Beyond her old Mustang there was only a thin expanse of concrete, then more connecting motel units—most of which were empty, which was strange, because it was awfully pretty here in winter. But maybe the news of the kidnappings was keeping the tourists away.
She closed her eyes.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, or how long he’d sat there, watching her. The awareness of him surfaced slowly—a tingle that rose from her toes and spread gently through every fiber, until her breath caught in her throat.
Like her, he sat on the porch, leaning back against one of the posts supporting the porch railing, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His dark hair was damp, his jaw freshly shaved, and he looked damn fine in black jeans and a dark teal shirt.
“A Christmas present from your mother, huh?” she said, eyeing the shirt with a smile.
He raised an eyebrow. “That psychic intuition?”
His voice flowed over her, as warm as cocoa on a cold night. “I don’t know many men who’d walk into a store and buy a teal shirt. If you discount moms, Christmas, and birthdays, the only other options are wives or girlfriends.”
“Of which I have none.”
For which she was fiercely glad. “Because you’re a cop, or because you haven’t found the right woman?”
“Partially both, and partially neither.”
“In other words, you’re not saying?”
He shrugged. “What about yourself? No one waiting back in San Francisco?”
“You’ve been checking up on me.”
“I’m a cop. It’s what I do.”
Yeah, right
. As if the Springfield police department had the time to check the background details of everyone they came in contact with.
“I’m still waiting for a man who likes chocolate as much as I do.” She hesitated, then added impishly, “So where do you stand on the chocolate debate?”
“Can’t stand the stuff.”
She sighed dramatically. “Another dream crumbles to dust.”
Amusement touched the nut-brown depths of his eyes. “That mean we can’t have sex?”
“Hell,
no
.”
“Good.”
Their gazes locked. Her heart began to beat in triple time, and desire burned through her veins. She wanted this man; there was no denying that. But right here and now was hardly practical—on a porch or in a motel room with her grandmother sleeping in the next bed. Gran probably wouldn’t mind the noise, but the mere thought embarrassed the hell out of Kat.
“I need to sleep.”
“That’s a damn shame.”
She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant and was reluctant to ask, simply because the line betweencommon sense and lust was thin enough. Too much more, and common sense hadn’t a hope.
She stood, gathering the cushion as she did. He rose with her, and suddenly the porch seemed far too small. She licked her lips, saw his gaze drop to her mouth, and her throat went dry. He took the step that separated them, and all she could smell was freshly soaped skin and raw masculinity.
Her whole body tingled, as if brought to life by this man’s presence. She’d never felt anything as powerful as this, and she so desperately wanted to make love to him. To feel his hands on her skin, his body on hers. In hers. Save for Gran being in the next bed …
“Gran’s asleep.” Her voice came out husky.
“I know.”
Their bodies barely brushed, yet she was intensely aware of every part of him. From the fire
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