“You’re early.” Her voice held a little ice, and she detected a slight flinch. Yeah, you should be sorry, you bullheaded caveman! He had no right to stake a claim. Even so, a tendril of feminine satisfaction wound itself up from her core. It was nice to be an object of desire sometimes, and Gage was good at letting her know how desirable she was. All. The. Time.
God, what was wrong with her?
Derek didn’t stick around, and once he was gone, Daisy happily chattered at Gage, who nodded patiently and acted as though he hung on her every word.
“Sweetheart,” Lily said to her daughter, “we’re leaving for Aunt Ivy’s soon. Go find your babies and your new books, okay?”
“Yay!” Daisy cried. “Will you come help me, Mr. Cage?” She grabbed his hand.
“Sure, kiddo. Let’s go.”
After dropping Daisy at Ivy’s, Gage barely spoke.
Lily threw him a sidelong glance. “Everything okay over there in the driver’s seat?”
Sunglasses firmly in place, thumb tapping a rhythm on the steering wheel, he lobbed a gruff reply. “Yep. Just have a few things on my mind before I leave.”
“You’re gone a long time.”
“Ten days. Five critical games. Our spot in the standings will be pretty well solidified at the end of it.”
“Do you think the coaches will move you up from the third line?”
He kept his focus straight ahead. “I’m trying my damnedest to convince them.”
“Being on the third line’s really bothering you, huh?”
He slid his sunglasses down his nose and side-eyed her. “Yeah.” Icicles in his voice, so foreign, sent a warning chill through her.
Whoops, wrong question!
She straightened in her seat, fortifying herself for what, she had little idea. Paranoia was probably setting in, but she detected that it wasn’t just his game eating at him. “Going to Dillon after you get back will be a nice break for you.” Her words sounded lame even to her own ears, and he must have agreed because he let those words hang with barely a nod to acknowledge them. She abandoned the conversation, and they rode in silence the rest of the way to his house. Tonight would be their last just-them time for a while, and she wasn’t going to ruin it by prodding for answers.
As she walked inside Gage’s house, Hobbes ran to her and rubbed against her legs. Lily looked around, letting the space envelop her in a warm blanket of comfort. The guitars, the sprawling leather couch, the framed hockey memorabilia. It was all a reflection of him that she loved.
He stuck his head in the refrigerator and began pulling out ingredients.
“What are you making?” she asked.
“The Nelson specialty of the house.” He glanced up and beamed; the icicles from before had completely melted, and relief rippled through her. “I hope you like cheesecake.”
“I love cheesecake. You know how to make it?” Her voice broadcast her surprise. The man had all kinds of hidden talents.
They stood at opposite ends of the kitchen, a space of about ten feet dividing them.
“Yep. And Italian meatballs. Those are also on tonight’s menu.” He pointed a brick of cream cheese at her. “You’re in charge of the green stuff.”
A laugh bubbled in her chest. “What’s the ‘green stuff’?”
Easing, she folded her arms across her chest. Under an open fleece jacket, she wore a white tank top. She didn’t miss how his eyes traveled down to the swell along the tank’s neckline. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he snapped his gaze back to hers. “Uh, the usual stuff. Salad. Green beans. No kale smoothies.”
The air between them grew electrified. Her mind was already jumping to getting him out of his clothes. She took a few steps toward him.
“Did you know,” he said in his best professor voice, “too much kale might be bad for you? And spinach.”
“Too much of anything is bad.”
“Not true.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Is that so, Professor?” A few more steps and she’d closed the distance.
With his back against the counter, he reached out and ran his big, warm hands up and down her arms, sending tingles skittering up her shoulders and neck. Her eyes wandered to his chest and the brown shirt molding itself to him. Chocolate-covered muscles. She pictured running her tongue over those muscles, nipping, sucking, driving him out of his mind. Watching his usually composed expression dissolve and contort with agonizing pleasure when he was in the throes was one of her favorite things about their sexy times. She loved watching him fall apart.
As if he could read each of her filthy thoughts, he kissed her forehead and set her apart from him. “Time to cook food. We’ll cook up other things later.”
“Promise?” she teased.
He swatted her butt. “Behave.”
“Or what, Professor?”
“I’ll bend you over my knee and spank your bare ass with my ruler.”
She fluttered her eyes. “Oh, Professor. You’ve given me more reason than ever to misbehave.”
He shook his head and chuckled. Soon they were cooking together while music played in the background. She was in a happy, uncomplicated place. Tab Benoit sang about southern ladies sashaying by, and she swung her hips in time.
“Yoga tomorrow afternoon, Professor?” She was prepping green beans, and he was checking the baking cheesecake.
He topped off her wine and leaned in for a kiss. “Yes, but you absolutely cannot stand in front of me.”
“Why not?”
Sliding behind her, he placed his hands on her hips and glided them slowly, sensually, over her ass. She bit back a gasp. He dropped his head and sucked her neck softly, making her break out in goose bumps in spite of the kitchen’s warmth.
“Because,” he whispered huskily, “you’ll be wearing something kinda stretchy and clingy, and I’ll think you’re trying to seduce me again.” He paused a beat. “Unless, of course, that’s what you’re going for, and then
