Page 39 of Married to the Enemy

And being with Mia—watching her hair fall across her cheek as she bent to steady Freddy’s leg, seeing her lift her head and smile across the room at him—he liked it so damn much.

Chapter 25

The morning was absolute chaos. Controlled chaos, but chaos all the same.

Mia darted from counter to stove, trying to manage breakfast while also packing snacks into bags. Evangeline had a meeting at her lawyer’s office this morning and Freddy had a checkup at the hospital. She and Raffe needed to divide and conquer. At least, that was the plan.

In reality, they kept tripping over each other in the kitchen.

Raffe was juggling a phone call, his deep voice curt as he responded to his boss. He stood near the counter, sleeves rolled up, one button of his dress shirt undone, exposing a distracting line of tanned skin and hard muscle. He looked like he should be on the cover of a glossy magazine; the kind Mia pretended not to read.

After tearing her eyes away from that delightful view, Mia crouched down by the table, unzipping her camera bag to double-check on the lenses she’d packed. Was the wide lens in there? She pulled another lens free, checking for scratches.

Behind her, Raffe went silent.

She didn’t see it, but she noticed the sudden stillness in the kitchen. Always hyper aware of Raffe’s presence, Mia knew that something had happened. But she kept on checking her lenses, pretending to inspect them. She didn’t see the way he froze, his phone pressed uselessly to his ear, his thoughts entirely derailed. All she knew was the sharp weight of awareness that prickled across her skin. Slowly, she looked up.

And caught him staring.

His blue eyes locked on her, narrowed, dark with something raw, something he didn’t manage to mask. Her heart stopped. She realized, belatedly, that her shirt had slipped open when she leaned forward, the white lace of her bra and the curve of her breast suddenly highly visible.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

But then her gaze betrayed her, sweeping over the expanse of his chest, the way that one button too many was left undone, the muscles shifting beneath cotton. The sheer size of him, filling the kitchen with his presence.

Her breath caught. His body tightened. The air between them pulsed with need.

He muttered something into the phone—something curt, final—and hung up without waiting for a reply. Then he turned away from the appealing sight of her lace. For a long moment, he stood at the counter, glaring at the coffee maker as if it had personally insulted him. Mia stood, her hand covering her décolletage. She should be angry. She should tell him to keep his eyes to himself.

But a part of her enjoyed the way he looked at her. Like he was a hungry lion. And she was his prey. Goodness, Mia really wanted to be caught.

Finally, after another muttered curse, he lifted the carafe, pouring three travel mugs of coffee as if the action alone could break the spell.

Mia tore her eyes away, retreating into the pantry. For a long moment, she stood by the shelves, her hand pressed against the wall to steady herself. Then she took a deep breath. “Get a grip!” she whispered, then grabbed a fistful of granola bars, enough for all four of them “just in case”.

But when she came back out, their hands collided at the bags stacked on the counter, both reaching at the same moment.

They froze. Again.

Close enough that she could smell his aftershave—clean, sharp, incredibly masculine. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back a little just to meet his eyes. Her mouth softened involuntarily, lips parting. His gaze dropped, lingering on her mouth with blatant hunger before snapping back up.

The tension wrapped around them, thick and undeniable. She swore she could hear her own heartbeat echoing through the room.

And then—

“Good morning,” Evangeline sing-songed, walking into the kitchen with her chin high, her legs trembling but determined. She ignored the wheelchair waiting in the corner, stubborn as ever. Freddy followed, using his walker with exaggerated steps, his grin wide and triumphant.

They paused at the threshold, their excited expressions fading a little as they took in the tableau. Looked at Mia. Looked at Raffe.

Then exchanged knowing, frustrated glances.

We came in too early.

The silent message passed between grandmother and boy, amusement twinkling in their eyes. Freddy’s grin turned sly, Evangeline’s smirk more mischievous than regal.

“We’ll do better next time,” Mia could practically hear them say without words.

Her face flamed. Raffe turned away sharply, sliding the travel mugs into the bags.