“Good,” he said, holding back the rest of what he’d come here to say.
Timing was everything.
He slid the omelet from the skillet onto a plate, buttered the raisin bread that had just popped up from the toaster, grabbed two forks from the top drawer, and moved over to the tiny breakfast bar to join her.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I can’t remember the last time someone besides Summer cooked for me.”
“Her muffins are great.”
“They are,” she agreed, “but now I’m wondering if I should teach her how to make omelets, instead.” She looked up at him with an even bigger smile. “The raisin bread is great, too.”
Somehow he managed to stop staring at the beautiful woman next to him and push his fork into the eggs. She followed suit and just as he was finishing his first bite, she made one of those soft little sounds that made him immediately hard.
“Ohmygod,” she moaned in one long syllable, “this is so good.”
Amazingly, praise from her over something as small as eggs and toast made him feel as good as if he’d singlehandedly put out a five-alarm fire.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said, and then while he held her captive with his cooking prowess, he decided the timing was finally right. “Got any plans for New Year’s Eve?”
She seemed startled for a moment. “Wow, how’d it get to be December 31 already?”
Smiling at her, he said, “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Yes,” she said, and then, “No. I haven’t made any plans.” Her eyes widened as she realized where he was going with his question. “You’re not suggesting that you—” She pointed at him. “—and I—” And then at herself. “—spend it together?”
“Hey, that’s a great idea.”
“No, it’s a terrible idea.”
“Do you like fireworks?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“You do, don’t you?” he said with a grin. “I’ll bet you love them, the bigger the better.” The way her skin flushed in response was answer enough. “Watch them with me tonight on my roof.”
He could feel how tempted she was by his suggestion, but then she said, “I shouldn’t.”
But both of them knew shouldn’t was a hell of a long way from couldn’t.
“But you want to, don’t you?”
That gorgeous exasperated look reappeared on her face. “Of course I want to!”
He didn’t bother to hold back his grin at that admission. “What if I promise not to kiss you until next year?”
The heat between them flared into full-on flames.
“Nice try,” she said. “Next year is only a few hours away.”
“I’d have to break my promise if it were anything longer than that.” He reached for a tendril of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “And I don’t ever want to break a promise to you, Megan.”
Chapter Eighteen
Megan knew what the right answer was. Just two letters. N and O. Those were all she needed to string together and then he’d leave.
But after only two lovely days in Lake Tahoe with Gabe—and one truly incredible night—she’d missed him so much.
She’d missed his smile. His warmth. His humor.
She’d even missed that delicious hint of danger that fairly pulsed from him.
And now, like the most wonderful gift in the world, he’d appeared on her doorstep. She’d tried to scare him away by being snippy and unpredictable, but he’d simply grinned his way through it...and then held her while she raged about old hurts.
It had been only fair to tell him the truth about David after he’d told her about Kate. The thing was, she could have just told him the facts and left off the part about how angry she’d been—and, she was surprised to realize, still was—about it. But when he’d put his arms around her, he’d been so solid, so warm, so there, that she hadn’t been able to stop it all from spilling out.
Just as she hadn’t been able to stop herself from making love with him in Lake Tahoe.
So how, she had to wonder as she looked up and found him staring at her, was she going to be able to stop herself from saying it? “Yes, I’ll go watch fireworks from your roof.”
His gorgeous mouth curved up into the biggest smile yet. And, oh, how she loved it when he smiled at her like that.
As though she was the only thing that mattered.
No one but Summer had ever looked at her like that, although as her daughter moved farther from those baby years with every passing day, Megan got that look less and less.
They finished the delicious omelet without saying anything more and she was surprised yet again when he took the plate to the sink and washed it clean.
“I could get used to this kind of service,” she said, without thinking. Which seemed to be her usual M.O. around him.
Gabe’s eyes were full of heat as he looked back at her. “Could you?”
She pressed her lips together and tried not to follow suit with her thighs beneath the counter, even though she was feeling really hot and bothered. There was no way he could see what she was doing. So then why did it seem like he had as he said, “In some countries it’s already a new year, you know.”
The rumble of his low voice was almost as much of a caress as his hands would have been across her skin. Worse, she wanted that kiss just as much as he did.
Which was why she pushed off the stool and said, “I’d better go see if the wash is dry.”
He put the dishtowel back on its hook. “I’ll help fold.”
So much for her escape.
There was nothing even remotely sexy about the laundry room. So then why, she wondered as they headed back into the small basement, was sex the only thing she could think about as she reached into the humid dryer and pulled out the clothes? Blushing at the thought of Gabe folding her underwear, she looked closely for it, but she didn’t see it anywhere.
“Need some help in there?”
She could hear the amusement in his voice as she remained with her head stuck in the dryer. Lord only knew what it was doing to her hair, which had been known to scare small children—and grown men—when humidity caught hold of it.
“Nope,” she said in an overly bright voice. “I’m just looking for something.”
“This?”
Megan finally lifted her head from the dryer and found Gabe standing behind her with pink lace dangling from one finger. As she watched him stroke the lace between his thumb and forefinger, she felt scalded from more than the heat still pouring out of the open dryer door.