“Make. Me.” Her cheeks flushed and shiny from the heat of the ovens, she tipped her chin high. “What? No obscenities? No threats that aren’t logically possible? I’m disappointed, Karl.”
Not so serene anymore, his Molly. She was breathing faster now, blue eyes flame-hot and lit with challenge, lips parted and wet from a swipe of that pink, pink tongue.
Watching for the slightest flinch or uneasiness in her expression, he lifted his hand and—
Dammit. No. If they fucked now, she’d come andgo. He knew it already.
Sex wouldn’t keep her here. So he dropped his hand and took his shot. “You owe me, Dearborn.”
“Huh?” Her eyes were hazy and hooded. “I don’t... what?”
There it was. Unflappable, sharp-as-a-blade Molly Dearborn, off-balance from their near kiss. Good fucking sign.Bestfucking sign.
Time to sell his idea. Hard. “We were friends. Good ones. You cut me off with no warning and no explanation. Didn’t even bother to ask if I was still dating Becky. Just assumed I was cheating.”
“That wastwo decades ago,” she protested, fists now on her hips, but he didn’t relent.
“Three years as friends.” He echoed her stance. Lifted a brow. “I do anything dishonest? Anything to make you think I’d cheat?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Deserved better from you,” he concluded, pinning her with his stare.
She sighed. “Yes. Butyoushould’ve told me you’d broken up with Becky, as we established mere minutes ago. The fault isn’t entirely on my side.”
Yeah. He was ignoring that.
“You owe me,” he repeated. “How soon you need to be back in LA?”
Her forehead crinkled again. “About four weeks from now. Karl...”
“Twenty-year reunion’s the first weekend in October.” He’d been dreading the stupid event, but now? Hooray for all that school spirit shit. “Less than four weeks.”
She checked the calendar on her phone. “Barely.”
“You said it’s hard for you to trust anyone.” He sucked in a breath. Gathered his courage. “Give me from now until then to prove you can trustme.”
His family would be gone during her whole visit, unable to interfere. Best timingever.
Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“If I trust you or don’t trust you, what difference does that make?” she finally asked, sounding confused. “Yes, we werefriends at one time, but we haven’t spoken since we were teenagers, and I live across the country. Maybe my opinion of you mattered then, but surely it doesn’t matter now.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “It matters to me.”
“We’ve already established that you weren’t trying to cheat on Becky. Your official record is hereby”—with a distinct slap, she brushed her palms back and forth, as if knocking off dirt—“clean.”
“Give me from now until the reunion,” he repeated, unswayed. “I’ll prove myself to you.”
She eyed him closely, then nodded to herself. Like she’d figured something out.
“Let me be blunt, Dean. We clearly have some unfinished business.” She stepped into him, nudging his arms to his sides, and he bit off a rough sound at the heat of her, the softness of her belly and breasts. “But taking care of that business doesn’t require trust. Just chemistry. And until I leave on Friday, I’m happy to use that chemistry and run some experiments. Enough to make Mr. Miller write us a lifetime’s worth of referrals.”
Oh, Jesus. Her body pressed against his? Best thing he’d felt in his damnlife.
His thoughts slowed. Turned syrupy, like the wildflower honey he used in his iced tea.
Dimly, though, in the recesses of his Molly-addled mind, an alarm began ringing. His plan for her wasn’t about sex. Right? Or... notjustabout sex. But if he stayed this close to her, it’d become that, and...
