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Cheeks blushing, she mumbled at the edge of the mug, “You don’t count.”
“I don’t?” Hand on her waist, he leaned over her to say into her ear, “As I recall it was right in this house.” Her turn to be too shocked to hold on to the coffee. He reclaimed the mug and took a heavenly drink.
“That bathroom, if memory serves.” He pointed across the hall at the staircase, beyond which was a half bath where they’d sneaked off after excusing themselves from the dinner table.
“That wasn’t our first date. It was a work function.” Her lips lifted at the corners. Good memory for both of them, that night.
“Tomato, potato.”
Smiling, she shook her head at his bad joke.
“In all seriousness—” he moved the mug when she reached for it “—I’m glad you didn’t sleep with him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t sleep with her.” She snatched the mug. “You didn’t, right?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“Good. She’s too beautiful. It’s unfair to us mortals.”
Oh, Gia. He managed a sad smile. Tipping her chin, he peered down into her coffee-colored eyes, took in the riot of deep brown waves surrounding a face he’d stared at many a night while watching her sleep. Without makeup, freckles dotted the bridge of her nose—too faint to see unless you were really looking.
He was really looking.
“She’s got nothin’ on you, G.”
They were in a holding pattern, her hands wrapped around the mug, and one of his hands on her face, the other flattened on the refrigerator next to her shoulder. The rest of the world might as well have crumbled to dust. All his reasons for not sleeping with her were harder to grasp when he was this close to her.
If they slept together she’d throw up a wall. They’d argue. This would end as badly, if not worse, than it had when they’d divorced.
And still...
“Jay...” She was poised to say something really undesirable. Maybe a “we can’t” or “we shouldn’t.” She would have been right.
So he did what he had to do to prevent hearing it—and kissed her before she was able to speak.
