Cullen was seated on the edge of a bar stool at the island, sipping his coffee and reading the paper, which Lily had brought in when she’d let herself in this morning.
That was when she noticed that he’d poured her a cup of coffee, too. It was waiting for her at the space next to him.
An invitation?
It would seem so.
Without giving it too much more thought, she set the plate in front of him and sat down on the stool next to him. She sat sideways so that she faced him.
The kids were still sleeping. The house was quiet except for the sounds of Franklin the dog, who was snoring in his bed in the corner near the window, the oven that was clicking as it cooled down and the freezer dumping a batch of freshly minted ice.
Fire and ice, she thought.
Just like the two of them: he with his hot blood; she with her cool reserve.
Little did he know that there was another side of her behind the front of capable cook and nanny.
For a moment, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world.
As he took a bite of the cinnamon roll, she sipped her coffee, holding the mug with both hands, letting the warmth seep into her palms and fingers.
“God, this is good,” he said. “You made these from scratch?”
She nodded as if it were nothing.
“Do you not eat these?” he asked. “How can you not make these every day and eat them?”
“Because I’d weigh five hundred pounds if I did.”
“You look perfect just the way you are,” he said before he took another bite.
Perfect?
Just the way I am?
She took another sip of her coffee before she could protest. Or at least until she could think of something else to say.
“I wanted to remind you that today is a longer day at the holiday market,” she said. “Do you mind if I leave the girls at the booth with Sydney and A.J. while I go pick up George from camp?”
“That’s all the way on the other side of town,” Cullen said. “The hospital is closer to the community center than you’ll be. Why don’t I just get him and bring him to you?”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “You don’t mind picking him up?”
He leaned in closer, resting his arm on the back of her chair, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. And she was going to let him if he did.
But he hesitated for a moment, as if he were trying to read her or give her the chance to object. But she didn’t. “I’m absolutely sure.” He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb along her jawline. “In fact, I don’t know when I’ve ever been quite so sure of anything.”
Ooh. She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his touch.
Suddenly she knew he wasn’t just planning on a laid-back, friendly peck, like the one they’d shared under the mistletoe at the tree lot. This was going to be the real deal, and her insides began to melt.
“Yeah?” she murmured. Her voice was barely a whisper and it sounded husky. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“You have no idea.”
He shifted again. Their bodies were closer. Then his hand was caressing her back…. His breath was hot on her temple…. His lips skimmed her cheekbone…. She looked up at him and his eyes were hazy and hooded, and the next thing she knew, his lips were on hers, tasting like cinnamon-laced butter, black coffee and just a hint of mint…probably from his toothpaste.
He smelled so good—like soap and shave gel and something green. Lordy, she was a goner. She curled her fingers into his hair, and her senses reeled. She wanted to inhale him…devour him.
She had no idea how long they kissed, holding on to each other, lost in this moment that had been such a long time in coming. Common sense screamed that they should stop, that she should stop. She should pull away, but another part, a deeper, hungrier part, wanted to disappear into the shelter of his arms, into this place where fantasy lived and there was no such thing as mistakes or women like Giselle.
Because she wasn’t like Giselle, and suddenly it was crystal clear in her heart—as if everything had shifted and snapped into place.
Lily had fallen.
And fallen hard.
Chapter Nine
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Max,” Cullen said. “We’re on a tight schedule. You’re going to have to figure out a way to make it work. The new surgical wing has to open on time. The board refuses to give me any room for negotiations.”