Chapter Six

Jane stepped out onto the back porch, two cold beers in hand.

She’d showered and changed into a strappy sundress and flip-flops because, for the first time since Finn had been landed on her unexpectedly, she could actually call it quits for the day. The dress was an A-line design, falling from the shoestring straps on her shoulders all the way down to her ankles in a sheath of printed cotton.

Perfect for nights just like this.

Cole was sitting on the top step, still and silent as he stared out over the backyard just as he’d done this time last night. She’d been determined to make her first performance review brief and brisk, but the orange and gold of the setting sun outlined his frame, burnishing him in fire, and she faltered. It was like the universe was pointing a big fat flaming arrow at him.

Or sending her a freaking huge warning beacon.

But, as her gaze fell on his back, on the broad set of his shoulders, the meaty cheeks of his ass, and the brush of dark, tangled curls against his nape, her pulse did a funny little flutter, and her chest cavity felt too tight for the rough inhale expanding her lungs. She’d never missed having a man around, but Cole sitting there, waiting for her, caused a sudden, vicious well of yearning. And not just for any man but for him.

Warning beacon or not, Cole Hauser was definitely under her skin.

Pushing those fanciful thoughts aside, Jane forced herself to walk, then to sit down on the stoop beside him—not too close. Her ponytail brushed against her nape, and the excess material of the dress slipped between her thighs as she settled her feet a natural distance apart, and, with as much casual aplomb as she could muster, she handed over his beer.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it off her and cracking the lid.

Jane cracked hers, too, and for long moments they sat side by side, not saying anything, just drinking beer, their gazes fixed firmly outward. She didn’t know what he was thinking or staring at, but Jane was concentrating hard on the golden diamonds of light shining through the leaves and branches of the oak tree because she didn’t want to think too much at all.

If someone had looked over the wall at them right now, she and Cole probably appeared companionable. Two people sitting close enough to be friends, drinking a beer together. But there was an awareness between them that did not feel remotely companionable. It felt alive with possibilities, fraught with tension. The me Jane, you Australian Rugby God kind of tension.

Cole Hauser was a man, and every cell in her body keened to his blatant masculinity.

After a long, silent minute, Jane dragged in a steady breath, determined to act like her body wasn’t lit up like a switchboard right now. “Thank you for today.” It came out clear and steady. If Cole hadn’t been here, Jane would have done a little victory dance.

He glanced sideways at her, a small smile playing on his mouth. “So I passed?”

Jane laughed at the wholly inadequate statement. “With flying colors.”

“Does this mean I get an A on my performance review?”

“Oh no.” Jane shook her head, trying to rid herself of the sudden urge to grade him on things that had nothing to do with his child-minding skills. “You get an A plus. Finn didn’t stop talking about you and your day all during his bath and getting ready for bed. He even kept interrupting the book I was reading him to tell me the things he hadn’t remembered to tell me. You were a hit.”

Cole grinned, his teeth even and white, a cleft in his chin just barely visible through the scruff on his jawline. The fact her son’s praise clearly thrilled him made him that much harder to ignore.

Slow heat suffused her body as Jane pushed on. “And thank you for dinner, too. You didn’t have to cook for me.” She faltered. “For us…but it was very much—”

Appreciated.

She cut herself off abruptly before she said the word, and he cocked an eyebrow, that small smile playing peek-a-boo on his lips again as if he knew exactly what she’d been about to say. She didn’t know why she’d stopped. God knew she wanted him to lean in and kiss her again. Properly, this time, deep and slow and wet.

Maybe cradle her face and slide his hands into her hair.

“It was very nice of you,” she said instead, her tummy tense, the pulse in her neck bounding thick and sluggish.

He shrugged. “It was just mac and cheese.”

Maybe, but it’d been delicious, and to put down her tools at five and not have to worry about what to feed Finn for dinner had been ah-mazing. “You shouldn’t undersell yourself. You’re a good cook. Did you take lessons or pick it up along the way?”

Jane congratulated herself on steering the conversation onto a mundane, day-to-day track. Nothing more mind-numbingly boring and sexless than the Groundhog-Day-conundrum of families the world over—what to eat for dinner.

“I’m hardly Michelin star,” Cole dismissed. “My mother taught me a few basic dishes to get by. She worked several jobs and sometimes didn’t get home until late at night, and she was determined to raise a boy who knew his way around a kitchen.”

“She sounds great.”

He smiled, and it was so full of nostalgia and affection it did funny things inside Jane’s chest. “She was.”

“She’s…not around anymore?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She died three years ago.”

The thickness in his voice was unmistakable, and Jane battled the urge to slide her hand onto his arm and squeeze. She settled for a gentle, “I’m sorry.” Her parents may live in Germany right now, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine not having them in her life. Finn not having them in his life.

“Thank you.”

“And your father?”

“I have no idea. He buggered off for good when I was twelve, and I’ve not heard from him since. I assume he’s also dead.”

Jane frowned. That was a big assumption. “Why?”

“Because I’m pretty well-known in Australia. As is the amount of money I’ve earned over the years—and my father is the king of freeloaders. He’d have come out of the woodwork a long time ago if he was still around.”

“I’m…sorry.” Jane wasn’t sure what else to say.

“It’s fine,” he murmured, returning his gaze to the backyard as he took another slug of his drink.

Jane followed suit, and they lapsed into silence again. She had no idea what he was thinking, but he didn’t seem angry or upset, more…contemplative, which suited the early evening ambience.

“Arlo Pike wants me to run a rugby clinic for the local kids this weekend.”

The bottle paused halfway to Jane’s mouth as she glanced at Cole. It didn’t surprise her. She’d met Arlo a couple of times since arriving in Credence, and he struck her as nothing but proactive in the community.

“That sounds like a great idea.” She did some quick mental calculations on how much she could get achieved tomorrow to make up for Cole being otherwise occupied at the end of the week. “I might bring Finn down to watch for a while those days.”

“I’m happy to take him with me.” Cole’s gaze met hers. “He likes kicking a ball around, and it’ll be plenty of exercise for him.”

“Oh.” Jane sat back a little. She hadn’t considered that Cole would want a tagalong while he taught a rugby clinic.

He frowned. “If that’s okay by you.”

“But…won’t you be busy running the clinic? You don’t need your attention divided.”

Jane knew from experience that her son needed an eagle eye trained on him at all times.

“Apparently, it won’t be a big group, and Arlo’s making sure there are plenty of volunteers to keep an eye on everybody at all times.”

Jane had no doubt that Arlo would make sure it was run with full supervision, but mother guilt reared its ugly head again. She volunteered to help with Finn’s activities whenever she could—she took time out of work specifically to do so. But ordinarily, during vacation, when it was her time with Finn, she didn’t work at all.

It felt wrong to not be a part of it.

“I’ll put him in with some kids his age,” Cole added. “He’ll have a blast, and I’ll get him back to you in one piece at the end of the day, I promise.”

He smiled at her then, and her stupid stomach turned over as she returned the smile. “And what about you? Are you…?” She tipped her head at his ever-present walking stick. “Should you be taking on something like that right now?”

Picking up his stick, he twirled it in his hand, and Jane held her breath. She’d obviously annoyed him this past week any time she’d called his fitness or ability into question. But he seemed pensive rather than annoyed right now.

“Trust me.” He turned his head to the side, his eyes finding hers. There was a mischievous sparkle there, and the world tilted wildly for a second or two. “The only thing I need when running a kid’s rugby clinic is a really loud voice.”

His lips twitched, and Jane laughed. To her surprise, he followed suit. His laughter was rich and full and deep, and his head tipped back a little, ruffling those curls and stopping the breath in her throat. His mouth was big and open, and his teeth flashed white in the encroaching shadows, and for a second she wished he’d lean in and kiss her again like he had last night.

Even though she’d asked him not to do it again.

So if there was going to be any kissing tonight, she was going to have to kiss him, which was exactly what she did. She ignored her wiser angels and kissed him. Jane Spencer, divorced single mom and historical-house rehabber, kissed Cole Hauser, Australian rugby royalty. She swooped into the space between them—with more haste than finesse, in case she chickened out—and took his mouth.

Jane wasn’t sure who was more stunned at first. Him or her. There was certainly a beat or two when they both sat stock still, just like last night. Then he groaned a groan that was the most wickedly delicious noise Jane had heard in a long time, followed by a clatter, which sounded like his cane dropping, and then his hand was sliding onto her face and pushing into her hair.

Of its own volition, her body half turned toward him, and his body mirrored the movement as his tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, and it was so damn erotic her mouth opened on a silent kind of oh. He swallowed that oh right up, and Jane pressed closer, her hand sliding on top of his as Cole angled his head to deepen the kiss, his lips slanting over hers. Jane’s heartbeat was so loud in her ears she couldn’t even hear herself breathe.

God…was she breathing? She felt too lightheaded, too airless to be sure.

The kiss was slow and deep—not gentle, but not rushed, either—it was thorough, his tongue exploring, his hand firm in her hair as he held her in place. Cole took his time kissing her, and it was absolutely him kissing her. She might’ve instigated it, but he had taken control, and she was more than happy to follow his lead.

He was the kisser, and she was the kissee.

Her pulse thrummed, and her belly twisted tight, and fireworks exploded behind her eyes, and she was…

Bamboozled. Ensorcelled. Enslaved.

By his mouth. By the cool flavor of beer on his lips, the masterful stroke of his tongue, and the undiluted masculinity of him, invading her senses every time she remembered to breathe.

It was intoxicating, and someone needed to bottle it. Call it Jock or Pro or Stud and sell it for a thousand bucks a pop. She’d buy a case of the stuff.

Hell, she’d bathe in it every damn night.

A sudden noise like the grunting of a wild animal pierced the sexual haze, and Jane broke away, her brain spinning in her head, her lungs grabbing for air.

Finn.

Fumbling the monitor from her pocket, she ogled it blindly, listening for…she couldn’t remember what she was supposed to be listening for. Hell, she was barely remembering how to breathe, but when there was only silence, the mommy part of her brain relaxed, and she finally snuck a sideways look at Cole.

He was staring at her with glazed eyes, his breathing as hard, if not harder, than hers. His mouth was wet, and his pupils had blown out. “Just so we’re clear here, when you go to bed tonight and tell yourself this kiss shouldn’t have happened, remember that it was you who kissed me this time.”

His voice was a low rumble that plucked at muscle fibers deep inside her pelvis. “I know.” He definitely hadn’t started it. That was on her.

But he’d sure as hell finished it.

He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else but closed it, straightening himself, facing the backyard again as he took a long swallow of his beer. Given her legs weren’t quite capable of supporting her yet and her pulse rate was still dangerously high, Jane did the same, barely tasting the cold amber fluid as it slid down her throat.

She shut her eyes. God…what had come over her? She’d asked him not to kiss her again yesterday, and now here she was, kissing him! Sure, he hadn’t been averse to her advance—quite the contrary—but she didn’t believe in giving guys mixed signals.

Hell, she didn’t believe in giving herself mixed signals.

Jane knew she had to say something. They couldn’t just sit here and pretend she hadn’t kissed him and he hadn’t kissed her back. She owed him an apology. She’d fessed up to being the instigator, but she hadn’t said sorry. And they really should clear the air.

Or, option B—pray for a giant bald eagle to come swooping down and carry her away.

“So that’s a yes to the rugby clinic?”

Jane blinked. Or option C—ignore it altogether? “Um…yes.”

“And I take it…” He turned his head to look at her, and there was that slight smile on those swollen lips again. “I’m cleared to look after Finn again tomorrow?”

She gave a confused kind of half laugh. Okay, they were going to ignore it. Jane couldn’t decide if she was relieved or not, but frankly, she was too chicken to push. “Yes.”

“And you still want a performance review tomorrow night?”

Oh dear god. Jane should not want that. She should run a mile from the mere suggestion of it. Cole was clearly capable of looking after Finn, and the last thing she needed was to revisit this…intimacy. Because that’s what it was between them, sitting on the steps side by side, drinking booze in front of an eastern Colorado sunset, their chemistry stirring like crazy.

Intimacy.

It’d been like that last night, too; she just hadn’t recognized it. But maybe Cole had. And that’s what he was really asking. Is it wise to put ourselves in this situation again?

Another very good question.

Jane did not want intimacy. She hadn’t been looking for it, nor could she afford to want it. Especially not with a guy who was here on vacation and lived on the other side of the planet. But, even now, she knew not even wild horses could keep her away from this porch tomorrow night. Because, as much as her head was telling her she didn’t want this kind of closeness with this man, her body was telling her something entirely different.

And, it turned out, her body was a demanding little hussy.

“Of course,” she said briskly, then tipped the bottle back and drained it dry in several long swallows. Standing on legs that felt much stronger than they had a few minutes ago, she mustered all her nonchalance. “This time tomorrow.”

And damn if it didn’t sound more like a promise than a threat.

…

It was two o’clock the next afternoon before Cole had more than a brief exchange with Jane. She had looked him straight in the eye with a daring kind of defiance earlier this morning, like she wasn’t going to apologize for anything—which suited Cole just fine; he hadn’t wanted nor expected her to—but her pink cheeks had betrayed her somewhat. As had her speedy handover of Finn and her even speedier exit out the door to the red sitting room.

She was clearly more rattled by their kiss last night than she was prepared to admit to him or maybe even herself. Cole could definitely relate. After her explicit no-more-kissing instructions to him the night before, her move had been unexpected. Especially when he’d been resisting the urge to do exactly what she’d done.

Because she’d asked him not to.

He’d busted his arse not kissing her. And then she’d laid one on him. He’d thought about that a lot today. Her contradictions. How she blew hot and cold. And the blatant attraction roaring between them. Also, he’d thought about that dress. How it had bared her shoulders and slid silkily over her legs, falling between her thighs, clinging to their outline. Apart from that first night in a tank top and her underwear, he’d only ever seen Jane in her work clothes of T-shirt, shorts, and boots.

Last night, she’d worn flip-flops.

After he’d taken Finn to the park, they went to the library. It was only a small library, but the summer break program was in full swing, and they just happened to luck upon children’s reading hour. Cole and Finn spent two hours there reading books and doing some art in the activity corner. Well, Finn had. Cole had just gone through the motions as his brain had relived that kiss.

Like it was now, when he should be concentrating on his supervision duties of Finn as he poured three glasses of milk. Pulling his brain back into line, Cole placed the glasses on the tray next to the plate of chocolate chip cookies. Finn had suggested they bake them on their return from the library because Mommy loves milk and cookies.

Given Mommy’s penchant for beer, Cole suspected it was Finn who loved milk and cookies, but apparently there was a secret family recipe, and Finn thought a floor picnic in the red sitting room sounded fun. Because, also apparently, picnics were a favorite Jane thing.

Along with needle-nose pliers, prickles, and stealth make-out sessions.

Unsurprisingly, Finn didn’t know the secret family recipe, but fortunately the great God Google knew about a million. Cole soon found one that matched the ingredients in the pantry, and, an hour later, with the kitchen smelling divine, they were all set.

“Okay.” Cole lifted the tray. “You got the blanket?” Finn nodded enthusiastically, holding it up. It was actually an old round tablecloth they’d found in one of the drawers, but it was good enough. “Got my cane?”

Finn dutifully brandished it as Carl balanced on his shoulder, displaying his full, vibrant colors. Up until Credence, Cole had never even seen a chameleon in real life, and he had woken three times now to the Houdini reptile staring him in the face.

“Let’s go, then.”

Cole had no idea how they were going to be received. Jane had made it pretty clear by her hasty scramble from the kitchen this morning that she wasn’t keen on his company, and he knew she was operating on a strict schedule to get the job finished on time, but surely she could put down her tools for fifteen minutes. She probably hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The kitchen appeared untouched from when they’d departed this morning, and the woman had to eat, right?

“Mommy’s going to love it, Cole.”

Finn grinned so big it sucker punched Cole right in the chest. The boy was such a sweet kid and clearly besotted with his mother. Cole remembered how much he’d adored his mother at Finn’s age, knowing even then that she was doing her best and trying to please her, to make things just a little bit easier for her when he could.

Sure, he’d been a live wire and had gone through a period of rebellion in his teenage years, not long after his father had left for good, but never more than she’d been able to handle. Life had not been kind to his mother, but she’d never made him feel anything other than loved.

The sounds of Pink singing one of her hits grew louder as Cole slowly approached the red sitting room. He needed two hands for the tray, so he was walking tentatively without the aid of his stick. Finn was using it instead, even though it was almost as tall as him. Needless to say, he wasn’t making a lot of headway, and Cole laughed and shook his head. Between his hindered gait and Carl perched on his shoulder like a bloody parrot, he looked like a miniature drunken pirate.

Reaching the open doorway, Cole paused for Finn to catch up. Jane had her back to him, kneeling on her kneepads, hunched over the floor, prying a tile loose. The room was almost half done, now, and he was impressed with her progress, but that position could not be good for anyone’s posture. Her back and knees and neck must ache like crazy at the end of the day, yet he’d not heard her grumble or seen her stretching out her muscles or rubbing at her neck.

He could rub her neck. He could rub her wherever she wanted…

“Mommy!”

Cole started guiltily at the voice, having temporarily forgotten that Finn—Jane’s kid—was with him. Jane, who he was picturing stretched out on a massage table, glistening in oil as he rubbed her down.

Jesus. What was wrong with him? He was probably going to hell for mentally debauching a mother with her four-year-old son right beside him. MILF hell. Where you could look but never, ever touch for all fucking eternity.

Jane glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Knock, knock,” Cole said, indicating the tray as he hoped like hell the desire running hot through his veins was not reflected on his face. Or behind the zipper of his jeans. “Finn thought you might like some milk and cookies.”

Jane tapped a button on her nearby phone screen, and the music cut out as she sat back on her haunches, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. Her gaze fleetingly captured his before she turned her attention to Finn. “I was just thinking that’s exactly what I want,” she said with a grin. “I’m starving.”

“We can have a floor picnic, Mommy.” Finn held up the checked tablecloth.

“I love that idea, Finny.” She pushed to her feet with an effortless ease that had Cole both envious and horny as fuck. Even in kneepads, Jane Spencer’s fix-it-woman look totally floated his boat. “How about over there?”

She pointed to the midsection of the remaining tiles, far away from any potential spill hazards to the exposed parquetry. Finn lifted the stick and skipped over to the indicated area and proceeded to spread the tablecloth on the tiles. Jane headed toward her son; so did Cole.

“You can sit here, Mommy.” Finn pointed to where he wanted his mother to sit, and Jane dutifully sat. “And you can sit there, Cole.”

An imperious little finger pointed at a spot next to Jane. It wouldn’t have been where Cole would have sat, but it wasn’t exactly a huge tablecloth, so there wouldn’t be much distance between them wherever he sat his arse down.

“You want me to take that?” she asked, holding out her hands to take the tray.

Cole’s instinct to say no battled with the practicalities of his predicament. There was no way he could sit and take the tray with him. He was going to need the assistance of his stick to get all the way down on the floor. A well of frustration rose in him, but Jane smiled gently and waggled her fingers a little.

It wasn’t in Cole’s nature to appear weak to anyone. Over a decade in professional sport had taught him that weaknesses could be exploited. But he’d already exposed his vulnerabilities to this woman—both his pain and his desire for her—and she didn’t look like she wanted to exploit him. Just…help.

Clearing his throat, Cole muttered, “Thanks,” and handed over the tray.

“Finn, pass Cole his stick,” Jane said as she settled the tray on the cloth.

And, just like that, no fuss, the stick was passed over, and Cole had lowered himself to the floor. No one was asking him how he felt or watching him with trained eagle eyes. No one was making notes. There wasn’t a camera recording the moment, and some annoying journo wasn’t going to write about his fitness.

Just this woman and this boy and a floor picnic.

“Did you make these?” Jane asked her son as Cole found a position of comfort. “I thought I smelled cookies.”

“I did,” Finn said. “But Cole helped.”

Cole smiled. If Finn’s definition of helping was to eat as much of the cookie dough as possible, then he’d helped—a lot.

She picked up a cookie and a glass of milk. “I hope you didn’t give away the secret family recipe, did you?”

Finn shook his head solemnly. “No, Mommy. Cole dooddled it.”

Jane raised an eyebrow, then winked at Cole as she dunked her cookie in the glass of milk. “Did he, now?”

That wink, the amused tilt to her mouth, were something else. Like they were both in on a joke together. Her genuine delight reminded him of the night she’d talked about her work with him, and this whole domesticated scene made Cole feel…like he was part of something. Part of this little circle. Not a duo plus an outsider—a trio.

Warmth flooded his chest. Then she bit into the cookie and shut her eyes, and warmth flooded an area a little farther to the south. She sighed exaggeratedly, her eyes fluttering open to look at Finn.

“Mmm,” she said. Her tongue flicked out to lick at the crumbs on her mouth, and Cole honest-to-god forgot to breathe for a second. “These are dee-licious.”

Finn nodded as he also dunked his cookie and took a bite. “Cole said I’m a good cook.”

She glanced at Cole and smiled a small smile that clearly said thank you. “Well, he’s right.” Jane shifted her eyes back to Finn. “But look at all these cookies. How are we going to eat them all?”

“You’re lucky; there are supposed to be more,” Cole said. “But somebody—I can’t tell you who—” He bugged his eyes at Finn. “Likes cookie dough very, very much.”

She feigned a shocked gasp and said, “Oh no, I don’t believe that,” in an exaggerated manner, waggling her eyebrows at Finn, who laughed, completely unabashed by his consummation of half the cookie mix. Jane laughed at her son’s glee, and hell if Cole didn’t laugh, too.

“Mommy likes the dough, too,” Finn said as their laughter settled.

A very indecent image—Jane licking cookie dough off her fingers—sprang into his head fully formed. Followed closely by another of him licking cookie dough off her fingers.

And her throat. And her nipples. And around her belly button.

“That’s because the dough is the best part. Isn’t it, Finn?”

Finn agreed with a vigorous shake of his head. Cole also agreed. In fact, Cole doubted right at this moment if he’d ever agreed with anything more. But then Jane asked Finn about their day, and Cole once again felt guilty about the direction of his thoughts—thoughts about Finn’s mother—so he wiped them from his brain and ate a damn cookie instead.

He ate a bunch of cookies as Finn and Jane chatted away and Carl basked happily in a patch of sunlight about a foot from the tablecloth. It was easy listening, requiring little input from him, and he found himself slowly relaxing amidst their uncomplicated intimacy. His recovery was complex, his future was uncertain, and his feelings for Jane—who he’d known for less than a week—were getting more complicated as the days went by, but this relationship between mother and son was an oasis of calm in the middle of a turbulent sea.

“I doubt Wade and CC would mind. But I can text her if you’d like? To check if it’s okay?”

Cole’s mind scrambled to compute what they’d been saying.

“About the swing?” Jane prompted.

“Oh…right.” Cole had suggested to Finn while they’d been cooking that the oak tree was perfect for a tire swing. It was massive, its solid limbs easily able to support what he had in mind. He’d suggested to Finn they go and buy the materials from the supply shop tomorrow, and he could help Cole set it up. Finn had been fully on board with the plan. “Thanks, that would be good.”

Finn gave a little whoop, but Cole barely registered it as Jane shot him another grateful smile. Never in his life had gratitude been a turn-on, but it seemed he couldn’t get enough of this woman’s appreciation.

“Right, then.” He grabbed his stick before his dick started to show its Team Jane spirit in embarrassing ways. The throb of discomfort that grabbed at his hip as he levered himself to his knees, killed any stirrings in his loins. “There’s a sprinkler with your name on it, mate.”

Finn, who still beamed every time Cole called him mate, also sprang to his feet. “You need a hand, Cole?”

“No, thank you, Finn.”

Cole pushed slowly to his feet as Jane rose easily, laden tray in hand. Finn grabbed the tablecloth off the floor. “Can we have a floor picnic every day, Mommy?”

“Oh.” She glanced sideways at Cole. “I guess that’s up to Cole.”

“Can we please, Cole?”

Finn clasped his hands together like he was praying, and Cole almost laughed out loud at the kid’s eagerly desperate expression. Aware, though, that they were going to be at a rugby clinic for a couple of days this week, Cole said, “Most days we could.”

Because he’d like nothing more than to sit on the floor with a woman who kept kissing him and running away, like they were a family. Playing house with her and Finn while ignoring how much he wanted to lick cookie dough off every inch of her body.

“We’ll make jam drops next time.”

“What’s that?” Finn asked as he picked up a sleeping Carl off the floor and plonked him on his shoulder.

“My secret family recipe.”

He reached to relieve Jane of the tray, but she shook her head. “I’ll take it.”

Cole knew she was trying to ease a burden for him, and, curiously, it didn’t piss him off. Not that long ago, it would have. He would have taken her offer as a judgment on his ability, but this time away from the pressure cooker of his career prospects had blunted the edges of his defensiveness.

He’d have done the same for her, had the positions been reversed.

Except he could manage the tray, even if he was a little slow. Waggling his fingers at her, he said, “I’m okay, really. And you have work to get back to.”

She didn’t argue the point, just handed it over, her fingers brushing his as she transferred the tray to his grasp. Little diamond sparks of heat spread up his arm from their point of contact even as she withdrew quickly from the touch.

“See you later,” she said, the rough note in her voice causing more sparks, more heat.

Cole quirked an eyebrow. “For my performance appraisal.”

“Yep.” Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“We’re still calling it that?” Not making out on the porch…?

“Yep,” she repeated, her gaze locking with his.

“All right then. I’m…looking forward to it.”

She cleared her throat. “So am I.”