Quinn led her up a short walk and a flight of stairs. Inside, sheflipped on a few lights. “It’s rather generic.” Quinn sounded apologetic. “It’sa temporary arrangement I’ve let become less temporary than I intended.”
“I was lucky after my divorce. Since the kids were going to bewith me most of the time, I kept the house.”
“That makes sense. And it is a great house.”
She shrugged. “It is. The problem is it feels strange to thinkabout selling it, even if I’m not sure I want to spend the rest of my lifethere.”
Quinn shook her head. “Not strange at all, especially once thekids are moved out. It’s the perfect time to consider your options.”
“Is it wrong to say I want only two bedrooms but twice as muchkitchen?”
Quinn didn’t hesitate. “Nope.”
“Thank you. Even if you’re just saying that to be nice.”
“Home is about having the space you want and need. I’m not sayingyou’re going to have an easy time finding it, but that doesn’t mean youshouldn’t have it.”
She smiled. “You have a gift for saying the right thing.”
“Can I quote you on that? My sisters are convinced I have anuncanny gift for putting my foot in my mouth.”
Her smile gave way to a snicker. “Do you?”
Quinn blew out a breath and looked at the ceiling. “I have mymoments.”
“Don’t we all?” She certainly said her share of things she wishedshe could take back.
“We should drink to that, but I’ve invited you in and neglectedto fix you a drink.”
She tipped her head. “I’m in no rush.”
“Still, I can’t have you thinking I’m a lousy host.” She gesturedto the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
“I’m a terrible cook, but I can handle a cocktail. I’ll be rightback.” Quinn retreated to the small galley kitchen that more than sufficed forher minimalist culinary endeavors. She pulled down a pair of highball glassesand got to work muddling the sugar and bitters with slices of orange. Themethodical process calmed her as much as the promise of liquid courage did. “Iforgot to ask if you prefer bourbon or rye.”
“Will you think less of me if I don’t have a preference?”
She poked her head through the doorway. “If you could see thethings that pass for dinner around here, you’d know I’m the last person tojudge anyone’s tastes.”
Amanda laughed. God, she had a sexy laugh. “I’ll have what you’rehaving.”
Quinn finished the drinks with a splash of water and a pair ofoversize ice cubes. She joined Amanda on the sofa and handed her one. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
They sipped. They talked about progress at the bakery and some ofQuinn’s other projects. She’d worried they might run out of things to talkabout, but they didn’t. At some point, Amanda put her hand on Quinn’s knee.Quinn set down her glass and used the opportunity to get closer. She wastotally paying attention to the conversation, but she also couldn’t tear hereyes away from Amanda’s mouth. When Amanda finished her drink and licked herbottom lip, the temptation proved too strong.
Quinn meant to kiss her lightly. But Amanda’s lips wereimpossibly soft and she tasted of bourbon and orange. It took every ounce ofrestraint to pull back and search Amanda’s eyes. What she saw in them—arousaland longing and maybe a trace of challenge—sent her pulse racing. The poundingin her chest had nothing on the throb between her legs. “I’m not sure one kissshould test the limits of my self-control.”
“I think you should worry less about your self-control and moreabout kissing me again.”
Short of taking off her clothes, there wasn’t a single thingsexier Amanda could have done. The encouragement was exactly what she needed,even as it threatened to short-circuit her brain. She took the glass fromAmanda’s hand and set it on the coffee table. And kissed her again.
The slow slide of lips became urgent. A tease of tongues became afervent exploration. Amanda opened for her, welcomed her in. Quinn wanted tosteep herself in Amanda, her taste, her textures.
She didn’t recall doing it, but they somehow slid down on thesofa. Amanda’s hands roamed over her, restless and seeking. Quinn bracedherself with one arm, allowing her free hand to creep under the hem of Amanda’sshirt.
It was fun. It was playful. It was really fucking hot.
When Amanda’s fingernails scratched lightly down the skin of herback, she realized how close they were to having sex right there on the couch.She eased away and ran a hand through her hair. “It seems silly to beconfessing this, but I feel a bit like a teenager right now.”
“It’s not silly. It’s cute.” Amanda sat up and ran a hand throughher own disheveled locks. “You know what would make you feel a lot less like ateenager?”
Quinn sat back and tried to slow her skittering pulse. It was agood thing Amanda couldn’t see the hormones and adrenaline coursing throughher. If she could, chances were good she’d never take her seriously again.“What’s that?”
“Asking me to stay the night.”
Her heart went from racing to stopped dead in about two secondsflat. A thousand questions flashed through her mind. Was Amanda serious? Wasstaying over code for having sex? Was her mouth hanging open and, if so, did itmake her look like a complete idiot? None of those were the one Amanda had putout there. Even if everything about this had her tied in knots and practicallytripping over herself, she knew enough to ask the question Amanda hadessentially requested. “Do you need to go?”
Amanda shook her head.
“I’d love it if you didn’t.”
“I would, too.”
Technically, that could have settled the matter, but she owed itto Amanda, to herself, to make the invitation clear. “Will you stay the night?”
Amanda smiled, and for all her boldness only a moment before,blushed. She nodded.
“Would you, um, like another drink?”
She shook her head.
Even as a ball of anticipation lodged in her chest, she knew itwas her turn to take the lead. “Would you like to move to the bedroom insteadof making out on the couch like a pair of horny teenagers?”
“That sounds like a
