Page 67 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“I had a great time, Molly. Thanks for letting me take you out on your birthday.” Sloan stood over her with one arm braced against Miss Lilly’s front door in a leisurely manner while the other remained at his side, that controlled calm all but radiating off him in the light of a dusky sky. A calm that always made her feel so very safe and protected.

Till tonight.

“Me too, Sloan,” she whispered, meaning every single syllable as she buffed the arms of her jacket, more from her nervousness at the thought of Sloan kissing her than from the cold.

Anything but cold.

Because the truth was, if there wasn’t an annoyingly handsome and frequently exasperating “player” on the other side of the door cooking a gourmet dinner for her, she might welcome a kiss from this incredible man she should have noticed months ago.

Before Brec.

Her gaze flicked to a pink and purple sky where a sliver of moon was on the rise. Seriously, God? Her jaw compressed a hair. Well, maybe she should welcome Sloan’s affection anyway, she thought with a square of her shoulders, because a kiss from him might help douse this unwelcome attraction toward a player she had no business falling for. A deterrent, if you will, to ward off those pesky heart palpitations she’d experienced when said “player” had kissed her just last week in the car.

And every night since in her dreams.

“I’d like to do it again soon,” he whispered in a sexy voice that had the very real potential of melting her into a puddle of butter right there on the stoop.

Not unlike the man melting butter in a pan on the other side of the door.

“Would that be okay?”

No, because I’m falling for Brec.

Wait, yes … because I’m falling for Brec.

“Sure.” She tucked a stray curl over her ear with shaky fingers before touching the knob of the door. “Well, I better go in because Brec’s cooking me a special birthday dinner, but thanks for everything today, Sloan, because you made my birthday extra special. The perfect day, really.”

Well … almost.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” His quiet smile actually fluttered her stomach as he slowly bent down …

… to snag the bag of apples at her feet. “Here …” he said with a knowing look that heated her cheeks as much as her body, “make Brec whip up an apple cobbler for your sweet tooth, okay?”

“O … kay.” Her fingers quivered as she took the bag. But not as much as her stomach when he reeled her close with a warm palm at the small of her back.

“Then if you don’t mind, my sweet tooth would really like this …” Smiling that maddeningly mellow smile, he met her lips with his own, a sweet sway of tenderness that almost curled her hair along with her toes. “Good night and happy birthday, Molly. I’ll call soon.” Hand on the knob, he slowly turned it with a quiet smile, shoving the door ajar before he turned and meandered to his Ford Explorer.

Her breathing shallow, she put a hand to her chest, butting the door all the way open with her bag of apples.

“So … how was the field trip?” Not even glancing her way, Brec stood with his back to her in the center of the great room working out with dumbbells in front of the flat screen TV. Shoulders back and elbows at his sides in his usual armhole tank, he lifted massive weights, forearms slowly pumping up and down toward a sculpted body that gleamed with sweat. Taut biceps bulged with every rep, and for a moment, Molly could do nothing but stare, feet rooted to the wood floor like epoxy while her pulse pumped harder than those stupid dumbbells.

Talk about a ‘stupid dumbbells’! She was definitely one if she didn’t get this ridiculous attraction under control and fast, wondering if maybe now was the time to search for another job and move out. She forced a perky tone. “Great! He definitely gets an ‘A’ for both effort and execution,” she said in a voice far more chipper than she felt, moving toward the kitchen.

With great effort, she tore her gaze from Brec’s near-perfect form to glance past the kitchen with its wonderful smells, all the way to the dining-room table in front of the left slider door. Her heart melted when she saw it was beautifully set with Aunt Lilly’s special china and Irish lace tablecloth, the room aglow with flickering candles and a centerpiece of mums and autumn leaves. “As do you, Striker Man, because everything smells and looks wonderful. What can I do to help?”

She turned to meet his gaze as he set the dumbbells down, and her heart skipped a beat when those blue eyes seemed to darken while he swabbed his neck and face with a towel. “Not a thing, Birthday Girl. I’ve got everything under control.”

Yes, I know. Including my heart.

“But not everything smells and looks wonderful,” he said with a lazy smile as he ambled forward with the towel draped around his neck. “The chef has to clean up first, but pour yourself one of my infamous Singapore Slings from the fridge while I shower, all right? Miss Lilly’s napping, but I’ll wake her up on my way down, so dinner’s in fifteen.” Passing by, he gave her hair an affectionate tug on his way to the stairs.

“Wait! Singapore Slings?” She spun around, remembering one of his stories where he’d gotten blitzed on his “infamous Singapore Slings.”

He tossed a grin over his shoulder as he mounted the steps. “PG-13 version, Princess, so don’t get your knickers in a knot.” He shot her a wink. “And trust me, mango, pineapple, and lime juice add so much flavor, you won't even miss the alcohol.”

Wanna bet? Molly gulped as Brec disappeared from view, thinking a little alcohol might take the edge off her nerves. But then, it also tended to take the edge off her self-control, which is why she’d given it up long ago. And thank God! Because when it came to Brec, she needed all the self-control she could find.