Cathy Gillen - Runaway Lone Star Bride

Impressed he had figured out what to do until they could get a real baby monitor for him to use, Maggie nodded her approval. “If anyone really needs me, they’ll call my cell phone.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s finally asleep, though.”

Except...it would mean they’d have the rest of the night without distraction. And the two of them needed the commotion Henry supplied to keep them safely at arm’s length.

Hart strode closer. He’d shaved since she had seen him last. A mixture of mint and spicy aftershave lotion clung to his handsome jaw. She felt a tingle of awareness deep inside her.

He smiled. “But just in case—would you mind keeping an ear out for him while I bring in the stuff from the rental car?”

“No problem.” It would give her a moment to calm her jumping nerves.

“Thanks.” Hart flashed a confident smile, promising, “It should just take a couple of minutes.”

While he was gone, Maggie got out two bowls, a bag of chips and some grated cheddar. She didn’t really want to eat dinner with Hart—it somehow felt a little too intimate—but she also knew he had to be hungry. Good manners dictated she share what she had, at least for that evening. The fact she’d felt something for him, when they were talking, had nothing to do with it. Nor did the fact she found him as tempting as ever.

Hart came back in, loaded down with a big suitcase prominently bearing Henry’s name, an expensive leather duffel with his initials and a laptop bag.

He grinned when he saw the double place-setting at the kitchen island. “Expecting company or is that for me?”

“It’s for us,” she corrected wearily, then aware of the potential implications of that, quickly wished she hadn’t. “And you are ‘company’ to me, in the strictest sense of the word.”

She meant to reassure him. Put the mood back in the platonic-to-a-fault category. Instead, to her frustration, her words had the opposite effect. His dark brown eyes lit up the same way they had when she’d mentioned Dr. Ruth instead of Dr. Phil. He invaded her space, wrapping both hands around her spine. “Sure about that?”

He pressed lightly, bringing her all the way against him. Now she was the one on fire with desire. Her pulse pounding, Maggie worked to get air into her lungs. “Hart...”

“Can’t help it, Maggie,” he said huskily, guiding her closer still. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you. And damned if I’m not going to do just that.”

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