Wild in the Moment

money.”

“Yeah, but would you look this cute? Now. For dinner.”

She wasn’t aware of being tired, but she’d been up before dawn, cooking and baking, and then really poured on the coals through the hours with Teague. At his house, he started a roaring fire, then parked her on pillows in front of it. “We’re going to picnic in here,” he told her. “No peeking in the kitchen.”

By the time she sank on those pillows, her muscles were creaking, her whole body begging to be let down. It was so different from stress tired, though. She’d loved every minute of the day, loved every minute of being with him.

“Aha,” he said finally from the doorway, and came bearing a tray with a lit candle on it.

She twisted into a sitting position and then had to laugh. The candle was set in a crystal holder, very fancy, very nice. The two blue plates matched. The napkins were neatly creased. The wine was served in serious stemware.

The dinner fare was simply peanut butter and bacon sandwiches with chips. “And ice cream bars for dessert-if you finish everything on your plate.” He waggled his finger at her. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m aware that I’m not exactly a chef at your level.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t had this in years.”

“It’s got all the food groups, right? Or it will as soon as we have the ice cream bars.”

“Especially if there’s chocolate on the ice cream. You do know that chocolate’s one of the critical food groups?”

He looked affronted at the question. “What, you think I was born in a cabbage patch? I never leave chocolate out of a serious meal.” He added, “I was missing fruit, but then I figured, there are grapes in the wine.”

“Right.”

“I guess there’s no vitamin D. But tomorrow I could throw you out in the sunshine to take care of that.”

“Assuming there is sunshine.”

“That is a problem in winter,” he conceded. “But assuming we can steal some sunshine, we could have a snowball fight to get our vitamin D.”

“I’m amazed how far you’re willing to go for the cause of nutrition.”

“Hey, there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

They’d been talking and teasing each other all day, yet somehow both of them suddenly stopped talking. The fire snapped and sizzled. Shadows danced on the far walls. Silence seeped between them.

She’d looked at him all day…but not looked. He made it so easy to be with him. If he wanted something more from her than time, company, someone to work with-someone to make love with-he never let on. After their exuberant coming together earlier, he hadn’t touched her, not in any come-on way, yet desire was like a third heartbeat between them. Just…there. Beating, beating, beating. The sound in her ears. The sound in her heart.

Slowly he pushed aside the dinner tray and held out a hand. She took it, her eyes still on his. She knew the question, although he didn’t ask. She gave him the answer, by sweeping her arms around his neck and offering a slow, long, openmouthed kiss.

It seemed like a zillion times that day she’d peeled off her slacks and blouse. This time, though, was different. This time he pushed her blouse up, silky inch by silky inch, his strong callused hands cherishing every touch, every sensation. Yearning, licking hot, sang through her bloodstream. All her life she’d been restless. All her life she’d craved excitement. For the first time she had the crazy idea that he’d been the one she was searching for. Not an event or a place or an activity that was exciting-but him.

Only him.

The thought surfaced, then dissolved. He’d made her clothes disappear, so she concentrated on doing the same magic trick with his. Then they were together again, on their knees, breasts, tummies, pelvises rocking to the same music, creating the same friction, dancing to the same primitive beat.

He lifted his head long enough to smile-one of those all-male disgusting smiles of complete possession. I own you, babe.

Well, yeah. He did at that moment. But she owned him right back. Which she showed him at great length and detail.

She woke up past midnight to find him raining kisses all over her face and throat. “Are we waking up for a reason?” she murmured sleepily.

“I wasn’t sure if you could sleep here or had to go back to your place. I want you to stay. But you could have to get up awfully early in the morning for the cafe.”

“I do. Five-thirty.”

“Well…” More kisses. Concentrating on her cheekbones. Then her jaw. “I can either get up and drive you home at five in the morning. Or now. Whatever works easiest for you.”

She hadn’t thought about it, but now that he’d raised the question-and she was awake-she put in a vote. “I don’t want to leave you, but it really would be easier to be at my place. Then I just have to walk downstairs to open up. And you don’t have to get up at that ungodly hour.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do. It’s not like we can’t spend the whole night together another time.” She answered his sleepy kisses with more of her own, yet suddenly remembered. “Teague, you don’t have to drive me at all. I have your car.”

“I know you do. But we’re not making love and then you drive yourself home.”

He insisted, the silly man. So they dressed and bundled up-she took her new work clothes-and he saw her to the door. Main Street showed no signs of life by then. Occasional crystal snowflakes drifted around the traffic lights. Gossamer-thin clouds whisked around the full moon. The street was theirs, no one else anywhere in sight. A good- night kiss turned into two, then four.

She let him go finally, feeling warm inside all the way to the bones. That love word was humming in her pulse again as she unlocked the door and zoomed up the stairs on happy wings. At the top she kicked off her boots, plopped down her packages and bent down to switch on a lamp for light.

Her crazy, giddy smile suddenly faltered.

In the middle of the attic floor-heaven knew how it had gotten there-was a huge, four-foot chocolate heart wrapped in red crinkly paper.

“An early Valentine’s Day,” the card read. “Four more days until the real thing. This is just the beginning.”

The heart was extravagant. Thoughtful. Romantic. Unique. And God knew she loved chocolate.

Yet a shiver chased up her spine.

The present was wonderful, but it was the kind of thing Jean-Luc would have done.

And suddenly she was scared.

Ten

Carrying a dripping spatula, Daisy charged over to the window dividing the kitchen from the cafe. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, yet people were pouring in as if there were no tomorrow.

Her lavender-lemon shortbread cookies were good, but not this good.

The cafe always drew a good morning crowd, but traditionally they were the coffee suckers, the commuters desperate for a fast cup or the retirees gathering for the daily fight about politics. This was…well, everyone. All ages.

“More cookies, Daisy!” Harry bellowed over the transom.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Or she was trying to. She hadn’t slept well because of worrying about Teague, so she’d come in bleary-eyed-prepared to bake. But damn. Not prepared to need quadruple batches of her shortbread cookies.

She sprinted back to her bowls and oven mitts and cookie sheets, too far to hear what people were saying and too busy to ask Harry what was going on. The shortbread recipe had passed down from her dad’s family-the Scots side-but her mom had put the French flair to it, richening it up with the sneaky hints of lavender and lemon. The cookies weren’t sweet so much as intense. Addictive. Particularly since she had the best source for the best