The last thing he needed was another regret. He climbed into his truck and started the engine. For the first time in years, he couldn’t wait to get home.
His spirits crashed when he walked into his kitchen. The house was quiet, save for the faint tick of the clock hanging above the stove. By the sound of things, Jaye was already tucked away in her bedroom. She wouldn’t emerge until he left for work tomorrow morning. Damn. If Tara hadn’t delayed him, he might’ve made it home in time to see Jaye.
Loss sank into his gut, hollow as an empty glass. He paused by the kitchen table, fighting the crazy urge to bellow Jaye’s name. He had to see her. If her bedroom light glowed from under her door, he’d knock. Hell, he’d pound on her door no matter what. He threw his coat on a hook, took off his work boots, and strode into the dim living room.
A woman lay face down on the couch, most of her body hidden under the plentiful folds of a gray sweatshirt. Her head was burrowed under a pillow. He took a step closer and spotted a swirl of chestnut hair.
Jaye.
His heart thumped, pushing a dizzying surge of elation through his bloodstream. She slept with a knee pulled up, providing an extraordinary view of the sexy curve of her butt. Mitch drank in the beautiful sight and decided whoever invented clingy yoga pants should be sainted.
About time he stumbled upon her with her guard down. The fact she’d fallen asleep in his living room was a sure sign she felt at home, which is exactly how he wanted her to feel. With her short hair mussed and the graceful lines of her body limp with fatigue, she looked like an exhausted Tinkerbell. No wonder she was tired—working her magic on a bear like him wasn’t easy. Mitch studied the spry pixie draped on his couch and grinned.
The bare foot hanging off the edge of the cushion was too tempting to ignore. He trailed one finger along the delicate arch.
The foot jerked away.
The results of his experiment were clear—Jaye Davis was ticklish. He felt some measure of peace knowing they shared the same trait. Unable to resist, he inched a forefinger down the center of her foot.
She woke with a soft gasp, flipping the pillow onto the floor.
Happiness filled his empty gut. “Hi, pixie.”
“Oh, hi. You’re home.” She scrambled to sit upright, sweeping her bangs out of her eyes.
With her face flushed with sleep and her gaze warm with welcome, she looked magical. He half expected to see stardust scattered across the cushions where she’d been laying. Surprised not to see any glitter, he tugged on the gray fleece pooled around her waist. “This sweatshirt looks a lot like mine.”
She winced. “I was cold and your sweatshirt was hanging on one of the kitchen hooks, so I borrowed it. I didn’t pack any sweaters.”
“I don’t mind. Wear my stuff any time you want.” He settled beside her, glad his couch was the only piece of furniture in the room. He could sit close to Jaye without raising suspicions. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he gazed at the carpet. His eyes ached from staring at the computer monitor.
“You’ve had a hard day.” Her quiet observation held none of the barbed innuendo Tara’s did.
“Things got better after I checked the furnace. By the time I got back to Dad’s office, there was a plate of food on the desk.” He looked at her and smiled. “You didn’t have to bring me dinner.”
“I was supposed to cook for you. Besides, you didn’t have lunch. I figured you were starving.”
He nudged her leg with his, glad when she didn’t pull away. “I noticed you didn’t make liver.”
“After surviving a day like today, you deserved a steak sandwich.”
Her thoughtfulness lifted the heavy dismay inside him. He shook his head, humbled she’d gone to such trouble. “A huge slice of chocolate cake was delivered, too.”
“I hoped dessert might make up for slapping you in the belly.”
“The score is settled.” He rested his shoulder against hers, wanting to touch her. Needing to touch her, even if it was just arm-to-arm. “Thanks, Jaye. I needed the food. Everything tasted great.”
“You’re welcome.” She patted his back and gave him a sleepy smirk. “I’ll save the liver for tomorrow.”
Mitch laughed and closed his eyes, savoring the gentle weight of her hand on his shoulder blade. That she willingly touched him made him feel slightly dizzy, extremely happy.
“Were you able to fix everything?” she murmured.
“Things are under control, for now.” Contentment coursed through him now that she was near.
“I knew you’d make things right again.”
There it was again, the sweet support that buoyed him earlier in the day. He gripped his hands together so he wouldn’t give into the temptation to reach for her. The pressure of his grip shot a painful twinge across his knuckles, a reminder that she was an employee. Off-limits.
She brushed a caress across his upper back. “My gosh, you’re tied up in knots. Shift a little bit.” Two hands landed on his shoulders, pointing him left. “There. Now I can reach everything.”
Healing hands traveled across his upper back, down his side, and up his spine the way someone might soothe a troubled friend. Comforting him without asking for anything in return. He flinched in agonized pleasure when the cool pads of her fingertips rubbed the band of tension along his neck. “That muscle has been killing me for the past three hours.”
“Considering how tight you are, I’m surprised your head hasn’t popped off.” She probed the sore area. “Does this hurt?”
“Yeah, but don’t stop. I can take the pain.”
“Tell me if I’m pressing too hard. Don’t want to make things worse than they already are.” She massaged his upper back. “Problem is, I can’t tell whether these muscles are tight with tension or if they normally feel like bands of steel.”
“Tension. I was heading outside to the hot
