Truly Madly Deeply Boxed Set

“Bacon?”

“Okay.”

“Fresh-squeezed orange juice?”

She grinned and poked him in the chest. “Now you’re pushing your luck.”

“Deal, then.” With the subject off sex and onto food, Carly seemed completely at ease. Or did she just have him fooled? Before he left, the one thing he wanted more than anything was to help her get on with her life and put her painful past behind her.

“I’ll get things started. Meet me in the kitchen in a few.” She tossed off the covers and started to rise.

He reached for her, then changed his mind and let her go. Mike knew avoidance when he saw it. Hell, he was an expert on that subject. She’d helped draw him out last night. He owed her the same. Just because Carly had escaped his bed this morning didn’t mean he’d let her elude her demons as well.

* * *

Carly removed the necessary breakfast ingredients from the refrigerator. She didn’t want to analyze how much she’d enjoyed waking up with Mike beside her, or how relaxing she found making breakfast and knowing he’d be there to share it. Neither one could last.

More than once she stopped to pull down the blue oxford she had pilfered from Mike’s closet. He had wrestled her for it, and of course he had won. Which was why she now wore nothing beneath the denim shirt. She yanked at the hem, but it still only reached as far as midthigh.

Once she began the pancakes, she was grateful for the activity that took her mind off last night. Not only making love but the revelations. Everything about the dark night had inadvertently served to strengthen the emotional bond between them.

She cared for him deeply. When he left her, she would be hurt in a way she hadn’t believed possible. As much as she tried to convince herself that his departure was necessary for them both, the more time they spent together, the harder it was to believe.

Mike entered the kitchen to the delicious aroma of home cooking. The places he normally frequented lacked such a treat. Not only did the kitchen smell good but it felt good, too. Too good, too comfortable. “I guess you can cook.”

“You were worried? I should be insulted. Sit.” she waved a spatula in his direction.

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.

“Mike?”

“What?”

She glanced in his direction, a serious glint in her eyes. “You told me why you’re in the Hamptons, but how’d you end up here? At the house?”

“On a hunch, I went to see your father at the office. I asked him for motel names.”

“I see.”

“He showed me a picture of your family. Taken here, I think.”

She turned her head. Her expression was unreadable.

Mike pushed on. “He keeps it on his desk.” The sound of oil in the frying pan drew their attention to the stove, and Carly turned to work on breakfast.

“Nice of him,” she said. “I wonder if it reminds him of happier times.” Sarcasm was evident in her voice. So was the hurt. Hurt he’d also seen in her father’s eyes.

He recalled the photo and the pained look in Carly’s young eyes. Happier times? He doubted it. He wanted to broach the subject without her declaring it off-limits. And maybe help her, as she’d helped him, to at least discuss the source of her fear. “He asked about you.”

“What did you tell him?” She flipped three pancakes over and transferred them to a dish beside the stove.

“Nothing. But he was concerned.”

Her snort of laughter seemed forced. “He’ll get over it. He’s still got his top associate, even if Peter won’t be his son-in-law.”

“Unfair, Carly. He told me he wanted to dump Peter on his partner-climbing ass. You talked him out of it. He seemed genuinely concerned about you, not Pete.”

She had finished the pancakes and added bacon to the frying pan. Her jerky motions were at odds with the casual air of indifference she tried to maintain.