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I stepped sideways in my negligée, acutely aware of how I wasn’t ready for him to catch me in this lie, but neither was James. He too stared like a deer in the headlights, with a thousand questions swimming in his eyes.
“What the hell happened to your feet?”
“I took a shortcut through the backyard.”
“A shortcut? For what?”
“I ahem, I came for some chocolate. Seventy-eight percent of people get nighttime cravings which result from an elevated level of hormones.”
Oh my God, did that just come out of my mouth?
His face drained of blood while mine heated like a crematorium furnace. I so wished I could step inside one right about now.
“I already have chocolate in the kitchen.” He stepped in between me and Teresa and leaned into my ear. “You fed one to me earlier, remember?”
“Oh yeah.” I breathed a strained laugh through my nose. “I forgot.”
Please let the ground open up and swallow me whole!
“Are you going to stand there and chat, or get on with this romantic night?” Teresa wiggled her finger between us. “I’ll get the champagne from the fridge, and you two can be on your way.”
James turned to his mother. “How did you know I was here for the champagne?”
We walked to the kitchen. James removed a dishtowel from a rack and tried to cover me up.
“I mentioned it.” I snagged the towel from his grip, but it wasn’t large enough to cover everything.
Foxy’s squeaky laughter sounded from upstairs, and James’s head flew in the direction. “What’s that?”
“Your father’s in bed watching television.” Teresa removed the champagne from the fridge and handed it to James.
“Enjoy!” she said. “And don’t go busting any stitches.”
My cheeks flushed with more heat and embarrassment. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to win him over because murder was always an option for a father who found I had kept his son from him.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said.
I pulled on James’s hand toward the front door, leaving muddy footprints through the foyer.
Outside, a warm October breeze swept by, and I stepped out onto the porch. James set the bottle on the ground and removed his t-shirt over his head. The landscape of beautiful muscles and strength stopped my breath for the second time tonight.
“You’re crazy,” he said. “You should have stayed home.”
“You make me do crazy things.” I shuddered as he pulled his t-shirt over my head and down my body. It smelled like him—pepper and a hint of rose. I swam in the thing, but it felt nice against my skin.
“I can’t think when I’m around you, and then I make irreversibly stupid decisions, like taking shortcuts through backyards.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’m here to correct your stupid decisions for as long as you let me. Now, are we ready to go home?”
“I am.”
I stepped off the porch and onto the dewy grass in the front yard. He picked up the champagne bottle and caught up to me, scooping me into his arms in one swift move. Laughter bubbled from inside me, and I leaned into his naked torso as he balanced the bottle and me.
“Let me hold the champagne, at least.” I looked up into his blue eyes. Moonlight brightened the rims. His mom was right: Foxy looked just like his father. He swung the bottle over and into my arms and gripped me tighter. My offer to carry the champagne was a selfish one because his firm grip forced waves of heat through my body. His muscles bunched with each step, and I had the peaceful sense everything was going to be okay. He had to forgive me. I just needed a chance.
“You’re lost in thought,” he whispered when we reached his front door.
A dry patch resisted my swallow. “You can set me down now.”
