“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, stepping aside to let us in.
His cabin is warm and masculine in that way only menwho think of themselves as rustic can achieve—dark leather everything, exposed wooden beams, a fireplace that’s flickering exactly the way a fireplace should. Mistletoe hangs from the beam above us with alarmingly specific placement. And, well, that’s not subtle.
Finally,Cricket immediately makes for the hearth to warm herself.
“You’ve been baking,” I gasp, surprised.
“Stress-baking,” he admits, closing the door behind us. “It’s either cookies or target practice, and the neighbors prefer cookies.”
I appreciate Killion more every day,Rookie declares, immediately investigating the source of the cookie smell.
“So,” Killion says, closing the gap between us, “how was your book club meeting?”
“Educational. We discussed literature, character development, and the finer points of murder.”
“Mm-hmm.” He wraps his arms around me and lands a quick kiss to my lips. “And did you learn anything interesting about... character development?”
“Several things, actually. For instance, I learned that some characters are more complex than they initially appear.”
His hands run up and down my back, and there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Is that so?”
“Very much so. Some characters seem professional and by-the-book on the surface, but underneath they’re secretly romantic enough to stress-bake cookies.”
“And some characters,” he murmurs against my ear, “seem innocent and law-abiding but keep conducting unauthorized investigations in lingerie boutiques.”
A tiny laugh bubbles from me. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about five minutes from getting arrested?”
“Because getting arrested by me is your favorite thing.” He buries a few kisses in my neck and I giggle like mad. “You’re infuriating,” he murmurs as his thumb traces my cheekbone.
“You’re not exactly a walk in the park yourself, Detective.”
“Is that so?” His voice drops to that low, husky tone that makes me forget where I was going with this conversation.
I nod. “You’re bossy, overprotective, and you have this annoying habit of being right about things,” I tell him.
“And yet you keep me around.”
I give a slight shrug. “You have your compensating qualities.”
“Such as?”
“Well, there’s the stress-baking,” I say. “I’m incredibly turned-on by a man who bakes.”
I’m turned-on by a man who bakes, too,Rookie barks before looking at Cricket.What does turned-on mean?
His eyebrow quirks with interest. “Would you still be turned-on by a man whobuysbaked goods?”
I pull back slightly to study his face. “Are you telling me you bought these?”
“I can cut and bake with the best of them,” he says with mock indignation. “But I’m talking about you and me hitting Millie Ashford’s bakery tomorrow.”
I gasp. “Are you inviting me intoyourinvestigation?”
He frowns. “Not even close. I’m inviting you to eat gingerbread cookies with me. I overheard Chevy saying Millie was your next suspect. I figured I’d cut you off at the bakery pass.”
“Very sneaky, Detective.” I laugh.
“I have my moments.” His mouth finds mine again, andthis time there’s nothing gentle about it. It’s a kiss that turns my thoughts to static. His hands tangle in my hair, and I can taste chocolate chip cookie on his lips, which is somehow both domestic and incredibly sexy.
