The Reckoning by Christie Ridgway

fingers tightened on him and her touch was once again warming his blood, that lust distracting him. “Seriously, Emmett. I know I’m not quite a whole person, let alone a sounding board, but I’m here if you want to talk.”
    â€œI’m not much of a talker. I was always the lone wolf in the family.”
    â€œYou’re in luck,” she said with a half smile. “I practiced my silence for many years.”
    Then she showed him how good she was at it. She sat down on the edge of the treadmill’s ramp, then patted the spot beside her. He surprised himself by obeying, seating himself next to her while the quiet grew around them.
    She crossed her arms on top of her bent knees and rested her cheek there. He gazed at the back of her head while listening to the sounds of spring outside. Birds were trilling, peeping, cheeping. A branch, jostled by the warm wind, scratched against the glass of the window. Dogs barked in the distance.
    A sense of the season settled over him. Springtime. Renewal. Hope.
    Linda’s eyes were closed and he wondered if she was asleep. Her lashes were dark brown and curled against the soft pink of her cheeks.
    â€œYou’re still a woman, you know,” he murmured.
    She wasn’t asleep, at least not all the way. Her lashes rose and she sat up, slanting him a half-drowsy glance. “You think?”
    â€œI know.” Their gazes held. Darker pink color tinged her fair skin. His hand reached out and he palmed her warm cheek. “Shall I prove it to you?”
    She swallowed. “Not because you’re obligated.”
    He shook his head. “Not because I’m obligated.” But because he didn’t like to see her sad. Because he thought he could take one worry off her mind. Oh, yeah, and then there was that lust. He’d known it would complicate things, but right now he didn’t care.
    Leaning close, he touched his lips to hers.
    She jerked against his hand, as if he’d stung her, but he’d been gentle. He was gentle. So, so gentle.
    For a moment, she kissed like a child might, her mouth pursed and stiff, but then she softened. Her lips parted, but he didn’t pretend it was an intimate invitation. Instead, he let her warm up to the kiss, let her warm up to him, without doing any more than keeping his mouth pressed close to hers.
    â€œYou should breathe,” he whispered against her mouth. “You still need air.”
    â€œIs that why I see stars?”
    It made him smile, and he drew back to look at her.
    She traced his lips with two fingers. “You don’t do that often enough. Smile, I mean.”
    â€œKeep kissing me and maybe I will.”
    But she was shaking her head. “I have your number, you know. I’m getting smarter by the minute when it comes to you.”
    â€œHow’s that?”
    She straightened away from him. “You’re sweet.”
    He stared at her. “Sweet? You’re kidding, right?”
    â€œYou’re sweet.”
    â€œI’m cynical. Cold. Distant. Determined. Ask anyone.”
    Shaking her head, she rose to her feet. “I don’t need to. I was feeling low and not very confident and you kissed me. That’s sweet.”
    â€œI didn’t do it to be sweet!”
    She had the wide blue eyes of a baby. “Then why did you?”
    â€œBecause…” It had nothing to do with sweetness. It was because he thought she was beautiful and sexy, which, if she wasn’t so sweet herself, she’d see proof of in the tight fit of his now uncomfortable jeans.
    â€œTold you.” With a little grin, she spun on one foot and sauntered out, her hips swishing with a sassy little twitch.
    That womanly touch was almost worth being called sweet. Almost.
    â€œDon’t fool yourself,” he called after her. “I’m cynical. Cold. Distant. Determined. Just wait and I’ll prove it to you.”
    The bathroom door closing was her