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‘I need tamarind and some pomegranate molasses andyoudon’t have any in your pantry and I don’t want to have to drive all the way into the city to get it.’
So it was all his fault for not having a pantry stocked like a three-star Michelin restaurant.His brows lifted.‘Oh, Cally,’ he chided.‘Your spoilt-only-child tendencies are showing.’
Her eyes flashed, there was a flush in her checks and most definitely a jutting lower lip.He hid his smile and rubbed his hand up and down her back.‘You’re tired.’
She stiffened.‘Don’t you dare tell me I can’t do this, Blake?’
‘Wasn’t gonna.’He let the grin out then.‘Ever heard of internet shopping?You know—click the button and they’ll deliver?’He walked away from her, reaching round to grab one of the stools from the breakfast bar and lifting it over to the working side of the bench.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Use the stool.You can sit at the bench and peel and chop or whatever you do, and your back won’t get sore and your legs won’t get tired.’
‘Oh.’She smiled then and looked a little embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of it herself.
He pushed aside some of the mess and hoisted her up onto the bench so she was nearer his height, so he could step in close.
‘While we’re talking projects, I’ve got another for you.’
Her brows lifted and her smile deepened.Pleasure rippled through him as he saw her relax.
‘I’ve been thinking we should redecorate the small bedroom down from mine.It would make a great nursery.I even have some stuff—wait there.’He strode down to the room, raided the wardrobe and was back in a few minutes, a couple of shopping bags in hand.He started unloading the contents onto the bench, struggling to find space amongst the clutter from Cally’s culinary experiments.
She watched him, round-eyed, as nursery playthings and decorations soon took over bowls and boards.‘When did you get all this?’
‘When I was in New York.’
He’d gone shopping one spare afternoon.He’d felt an idiot at first but soon got into the swing of things.There was such cool stuff—all the things he’d never had.He grinned as Cally lifted up a solar-system mobile that had a sun that lit up and a remote control to make the planets orbit.She giggled as she read the ‘for seven and older’ label on the box.
‘For ourbaby, Blake?’
‘Yeah, but, you know, our child will be very advanced,’ he teased.‘Besides, we want her to believe she can reach for the stars, right?’
‘I’m not letting my son go up in space.’
They both laughed.
He leaned in, feeling closer than he ever had to her.‘You pick the colours and I’ll paint the room.’
‘Wouldn’t you get in painters?’
He chuckled at her amazement.‘I want to do it.’He ran the back of his fingers down her jaw, then lightly down her throat.‘It’s that hands-on thing.I like it.’
‘You’re good at it.’
The way her voice grew husky got to him every time.She might try to hide it, but he always knew when she was slipping under the net that had them both caught fast.But still she tried to pull back.
‘I shouldn’t be around paint fumes.’
‘We can sleep in the pool house while we’re working on it.’
We.Warmth—and not just of the lust variety—washed over Cally in gentle, lapping waves.So they’d be sleeping together some more.Working on everything together.
She shouldn’t be feeling so absurdly pleased.This was just a phase—the honeymoon period, literally.She shouldn’t get her hopes up and her heart endangered.So they did sex well.So they did laughter well—when they weren’t arguing.But that didn’t equal love—not on his part.She banished the appealing image of him in paint-splattered jeans and tight tee.Honest she did.Instead she focused on him in his current state—the made-to-measure suit, the long-day-at-the-office stubble and the I’m-hungry-for-you-right-now look in his eyes.
Eleven
The ring,ring, ring of the telephone wouldn’t stop.Cally lifted her head and frowned at the clock, then reluctantly raised an arm and grabbed the receiver.
