Murphy's Law

Neither noticed.

Neither cared.

Oh, how he wanted to bury his face in the enticing shadow of her cleavage! To—

“Garrett?”

“What?” he murmured, distracted by his thoughts, his needs.

“Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Garrett couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but how badly he wanted to see more of her, to taste and touch more of her. Otherwise, he might have noticed, and been embarrassed by the way he stammered, “W-why would you think something's wrong?”

“Because you stopped.”

“I did?”

As though she knew she wasn't going to get an intelligent answer out of him while his attention was otherwise distracted, she cupped his jaw and lifted his gaze, forcing it to meet hers. “Remember that other point fifty-six percent?”

She grinned, and not only did Garrett feel his resolve melt, but his heart as well. That was not a “school teacher” grin, nor was it the grin of an innocent. What it was, was the grin of a woman who knew what she wanted, and knew how to get it. The glint in her beautiful green eyes said that what Murphy McKenna wanted, Murphy McKenna got. And what she wanted now was him.

“Where's the bedroom?” he asked hoarsely.

She nodded to the short hallway behind her. “But—”

He didn't wait for her to finish. He slipped one hand beneath her knees, the other under her arms—her skin felt smoother than satin as it skimmed beneath his palms—and, holding her breathtakingly close, stood.

She felt lighter than air. He thought that only fair since that's exactly how he felt as he carried her toward the hallway…toward her bedroom.

His sneakers crunched over spilled sugar as Garrett stepped past the coffee table. Unable to resist a second longer, his mouth swooped down to capture hers once more.

The bedroom door was ajar. The sole of his foot, applied with artful precision to the thin panel of wood, sent it careening open. In seconds, he'd crossed the room and laid Murphy out on the four-poster bed.

The mattress creaked under the weight of his knee. That was not the only sound in the room. There was also a startled yowl.

Surprised, Garrett glanced up, and saw Moonshine reclining on a yellow satin blouse next to Murphy's hip. Apparently, the cat was voicing his disapproval.

“Oh, no you don't,” Garrett said as, leaning his weight on one elbow, he reached over Murphy and scooped up the cat with his free hand. Moonshine was much lighter than his overly-furry body suggest, Garrett noticed as he carried the cat to the door and, in way that reminded him of what Murphy had done three weeks ago, deposited Moonshine in the hallway. Glaring down at the cat, he said, “I've waited too long for this, bub. There's no way you're going to stop us. Now, shoo.”

Moonshine didn't shoo. Instead, the cat sat in the hall and began lazily licking his brown-tipped paw, swabbing behind his ear and purring and looking for all the world as though leaving the bedroom had been his idea all along.

Sneezing twice, Garrett slammed the bedroom door closed.

He turned, and his gut kicked when he saw Murphy sprawled over what he only now noticed was a pile of discarded clothes scattered on top of the bed.

He'd seen enough of her apartment to know she wasn't given to clutter. That there was clutter here, and that it was all of the wearable variety, told him something.

He grinned. What Murphy had been wearing when she greeted him at the door today was a shocking contrast to what she'd been wearing three weeks ago. In a way that was intrinsically feminine, she'd been trying on, and hastily discarding, clothes for…well, what looked to be a week, but was probably only since Elise had called.

In short, she'd been trying to look nice.

For him.

The realization thrilled Garrett. He crossed the room in a beat, and had joined her on the narrow, twin-sized bed in two. While the mattress was wonderfully soft, it didn't hold a candle to the skin on Murphy's waist, he thought as his hand slipped around her, hauling her close.