The Family Plan (The McClouds of Mississippi 1)

Squeezing the back of his neck with one hand, Nathan chuckled dryly. “You’re probably exactly right. By the time Mom spins the story, she’ll practically qualify for sainthood.”

“She really is a good woman, Nathan. I admire her very much.”

He dropped his hand and smiled more naturally. “So do I. Thanks.”

She motioned toward a tray on the coffee table. “I made coffee. I thought we might as well talk about work for a while, as we had planned to do this afternoon.”

He sat on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. “Might as well be comfortable while we talk. Have a seat.”

After only a momentary hesitation, she perched on one end of the couch, setting her briefcase between them. Nathan promptly picked it up and set it on the floor, sitting very close beside her.

“I haven’t even kissed you today,” he said, laying an arm on the back of the couch behind her.

Considering last night, it was ridiculous that she was suddenly self-conscious at the thought of kissing him. She cleared her throat. “We’ve been a bit busy.”

“A bit.” He toyed with a strand of her hair. “I haven’t even told you how pretty you look.”

She certainly didn’t consider her sweater and khakis an alluring ensemble and had chosen to wear them today specifically for that reason. “Thanks. About the case files…”

“About that kiss,” he countered, turning her face toward him again.

She supposed one kiss wouldn’t distract them too badly. She lifted her mouth to his, promising herself she wouldn’t let the embrace get out of hand.

The problem was, she hadn’t accounted for Nathan’s hands.

She was flat on her back beneath him, his hands under her sweater and hers fisted in his hair, when she finally surfaced enough to gasp, “We really have to stop this.”

He was busy nuzzling her ear. “Why?”

His lazily rotating thumb temporarily drained all rational thought from her mind. The kiss he pressed onto her mouth threatened to make the condition permanent. It took her several long minutes to remember that he had asked her a question.

“We have to stop,” she said, pushing at his shoulders, “because it’s the wrong time and place. Isabelle could walk in at any moment.”

He sighed. “You’re right,” he conceded, then kissed her again.

Logic almost deserted her again when their legs tangled and his hips moved against hers. Her lips still fused with his, she couldn’t resist arching into him a few times.

And then she tore her mouth away, took a few gasping breaths and pushed against his shoulders again. “Stop.”

Groaning, he levered himself upright and helped her sit up. She immediately busied herself straightening her hair and her clothes, at the same time making an effort to calm her breathing and heart rate.

Nathan made a few discreet adjustments of his own. “You say you made coffee?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Yes. Help yourself.” She reached for her briefcase. “We should start with the Smith case, I suppose. That’s the one that’s going to keep us very busy for the next few months.”

He didn’t even glance at the file she pulled out. “Tell me about your family.”

Her left eyebrow rose. “What do you mean?”

Lounging against the back of the couch, he sipped rapidly cooling coffee and studied her over the rim of the cup. “You know just about everything there is to know about my family, but I know almost nothing about yours. What was it like for you growing up?”

She shrugged lightly. “We moved a lot. Daddy was a sweet man who loved his beer, his junk food and his TV set. What he didn’t love was work. He had trouble keeping a job and a place to live and a car. But he had no trouble keeping his family. Mama and I loved him despite his shortcomings.”

Nathan used his free hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “I bet he loved you, too.”

He always seemed to be touching her. Playing with her hair or her fingers, stroking her arm or her hand. It was very difficult to keep her attention on conversation or work when every touch made electricity sizzle along her nerve endings. She cleared her throat. “I was the apple of his eye. He thought I was the smartest, most beautiful child who ever lived and he told me so every day.”

He traced the curve of her ear with one fingertip. “That’s a nice memory to have of him.”