tank top she wore with pajamas bottoms left her creamy shoulders bare but for thin spaghetti straps. He let go of the breath he’d been holding.
“Want some?” she asked in that husky voice of hers.
“What?”
She lifted a fork. “Cake?”
“No.” He shook his head and lied. “I’m not hungry.” Then he swallowed, as nervous as a teenager on his first date, and added, “I’m still full from dinner.” Even though he hadn’t eaten more than a few bites.
“There’s always room for cake,” she insisted.
“Sounds like something Buzz and TJ would say,” he remarked, debating whether he should pull out the chair beside her or return to the parlor.
Her mouth curved into an affectionate smile. “I just knew they were kindred spirits.”
“Well, they’ve been called little devils,” he admitted.
“They’re sweet.”
“When they’re sleeping.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Then she winced and answered her own question. “The pullout bed probably isn’t very comfortable.”
“It’s fine.”
“You should have taken my bed, and then you’d be right next to the boys.”
“I can’t take your bed.” Because then he’d think about sleeping in it—with her. He suppressed a groan.
“Your loss,” she said. “I have a feather mattress. And that pullout is one of Mama and Pop’s antiques. You know how you can tell a tree’s age from the rings in its trunk? You can tell the age of that bed by the number of lumps in its mattress.”
“The bed isn’t why I can’t sleep,” he insisted. She was.
“Then have some of the punch Pop brought back from the reception.” She gestured toward the pitcher on the table. “I can get you a glass with some ice.” Drops of condensation ran down the sides of hers, pooling on the tabletop.
“You enjoy your cake. I’ll get the ice.” He needed something to cool off.
Brenna held her breath until he ducked through the sliding doors into the kitchen. Then she sighed. Coming downstairs for cake had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t need the extra calories. She firmly believed what she’d told him—there was alway s room for cake. But because she’d risked running into him. Yet if she were honest with herself, and Brenna was always honest with herself, maybe that was what she’d wanted far more than cake. To see Josh again.
Through the glass doors, she watched him move around the kitchen. He’d discarded the jacket, tie and cummerbund and had undone some of the buttons of his pleated shirt. Dark stubble clung to his jaw, enhancing rather than detracting from his devastating good looks. She closed her eyes against temptation and chided herself. “He’s not yours.”
“What’d you say?” Josh asked as he stepped out onto the porch again.
Brenna shoved another forkful of moist chocolate cake into her mouth. “Mmm…Good cake.”
While his eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion, Josh nodded as if accepting her explanation. He filled his glass from the pitcher and then settled onto the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you…”
“You already did,” she interrupted him.
“I thanked you for your work on the wedding.” He laughed. “Or the wedding-that-wasn’t.”
“You heard that?” What the town gossips had dubbed his cancelled ceremony.
“When they’re right…” He sighed. “I appreciate how hard you and your family worked on that, but mostly I wanted to thank you for tonight, for helping me put the boys to bed.”
She shrugged. “It was nothing.” But it hadn’t felt like nothing. It had felt as if they were a family. As if she were the mom, and those adorable boys were her sons, and their handsome father, her husband. And that would never be.
He was Molly’s man.
“And you couldn’t have managed both of them on your own,” she pointed out.
He laughed again, his eyes warm with love for his sons. “Oh, I know they’re a handful, but I can manage them. I’ve had to learn.”
“You must have help
“Want some?” she asked in that husky voice of hers.
“What?”
She lifted a fork. “Cake?”
“No.” He shook his head and lied. “I’m not hungry.” Then he swallowed, as nervous as a teenager on his first date, and added, “I’m still full from dinner.” Even though he hadn’t eaten more than a few bites.
“There’s always room for cake,” she insisted.
“Sounds like something Buzz and TJ would say,” he remarked, debating whether he should pull out the chair beside her or return to the parlor.
Her mouth curved into an affectionate smile. “I just knew they were kindred spirits.”
“Well, they’ve been called little devils,” he admitted.
“They’re sweet.”
“When they’re sleeping.”
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Then she winced and answered her own question. “The pullout bed probably isn’t very comfortable.”
“It’s fine.”
“You should have taken my bed, and then you’d be right next to the boys.”
“I can’t take your bed.” Because then he’d think about sleeping in it—with her. He suppressed a groan.
“Your loss,” she said. “I have a feather mattress. And that pullout is one of Mama and Pop’s antiques. You know how you can tell a tree’s age from the rings in its trunk? You can tell the age of that bed by the number of lumps in its mattress.”
“The bed isn’t why I can’t sleep,” he insisted. She was.
“Then have some of the punch Pop brought back from the reception.” She gestured toward the pitcher on the table. “I can get you a glass with some ice.” Drops of condensation ran down the sides of hers, pooling on the tabletop.
“You enjoy your cake. I’ll get the ice.” He needed something to cool off.
Brenna held her breath until he ducked through the sliding doors into the kitchen. Then she sighed. Coming downstairs for cake had been a mistake. Not because she didn’t need the extra calories. She firmly believed what she’d told him—there was alway s room for cake. But because she’d risked running into him. Yet if she were honest with herself, and Brenna was always honest with herself, maybe that was what she’d wanted far more than cake. To see Josh again.
Through the glass doors, she watched him move around the kitchen. He’d discarded the jacket, tie and cummerbund and had undone some of the buttons of his pleated shirt. Dark stubble clung to his jaw, enhancing rather than detracting from his devastating good looks. She closed her eyes against temptation and chided herself. “He’s not yours.”
“What’d you say?” Josh asked as he stepped out onto the porch again.
Brenna shoved another forkful of moist chocolate cake into her mouth. “Mmm…Good cake.”
While his eyes narrowed in apparent suspicion, Josh nodded as if accepting her explanation. He filled his glass from the pitcher and then settled onto the chair across from her. “I wanted to thank you…”
“You already did,” she interrupted him.
“I thanked you for your work on the wedding.” He laughed. “Or the wedding-that-wasn’t.”
“You heard that?” What the town gossips had dubbed his cancelled ceremony.
“When they’re right…” He sighed. “I appreciate how hard you and your family worked on that, but mostly I wanted to thank you for tonight, for helping me put the boys to bed.”
She shrugged. “It was nothing.” But it hadn’t felt like nothing. It had felt as if they were a family. As if she were the mom, and those adorable boys were her sons, and their handsome father, her husband. And that would never be.
He was Molly’s man.
“And you couldn’t have managed both of them on your own,” she pointed out.
He laughed again, his eyes warm with love for his sons. “Oh, I know they’re a handful, but I can manage them. I’ve had to learn.”
“You must have help
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