She jerked. “What?”
“You’re too quiet. Having second thoughts?” God, he hoped not. He wanted this relationship to last a long time.
She squirmed away from him and grinned. “Yes, I’m having second thoughts. I think we should do that a second time.” She kissed him and reached for the sprayer to rinse shampoo from his head.
His breath couldn’t get past the catch in his throat, but he didn’t need to say anything, he hummed his pleasure. When she turned off the water, he caught her around the waist and pulled her back against his chest, her luscious bottom to his lap. Hands slick with water, he stroked her belly and legs. “You’re the best surprise since I got my first pony.”
“Is that a compliment?” She twisted her hips.
“Coming from a Wyoming cowboy? You bet.” He shifted her to her feet. “Be my crutch. I don’t know where I left my foot. I had other things on my mind at the time.”
Marla eased under his shoulder. “It’s next to the bed. I remember because when it hit the floor, poor Skipper just about had a heart attack.”
Dwayne laughed then sucked in a breath when her hand drifted to caress his bottom. He pulled her into him and kissed her. “I don’t know if I can handle you, Danaher.”
“Yes, you can, Dempsey. Not only that you have. And you will.” She led him to the bed.
He flopped on his back and threw out his arms. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“I am?” Her eyebrows went up, and she grinned wickedly. “Why?”
He chuckled and patted the bed beside him. “I’m so tired I’m seeing double. I need sleep, then food. Then…we’ll improvise.”
“Are we calling in sick in the morning?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good. I’m feeling under the weather already.”
The woman of his dreams crawled in beside him and wrapped her soft arm and silky leg across his well-used body.
Marla stroked his chest then his cheek. How wonderful it would be to wake up beside him like this every morning. “Dwayne?”
“I’m awake, honey.” His eyes opened and he cracked a small grin.
His smile could melt the polar icecap, and she sighed at the delicious tingling between her legs then poked his belly. “I’m getting up to fix breakfast.”
He rose on his elbows. “I can do that.”
She threw the sheet over his face. “It’s my turn. I’ll call you when it’s ready. Come on, Skippy. Time to visit the outdoor comfort station.”
On her way to the back door she grabbed Dwayne’s T-shirt from the hall floor and pulled it over her head. She inhaled his scent and groaned. It barely covered her bottom but was wide and roomy otherwise. She unlocked the doggy door, and Skipper scampered out to complete his mission.
What to fix? Marla settled on a western omelet and set about chopping onion, tomato, and green pepper. Bacon bits would have to fill in for ham. When Skip nosed her ankle and whined, she filled his water bowl and put a handful of kibble in his dish.
Eight eggs should probably do it. She cracked them into a large bowl with a handle. Whipping them to a frothy liquid, she poured them in the hot pan then lifted the edges with a rubber spatula.
“The toast!” She quit daydreaming about Dempsey’s sexual prowess and dropped four slices on the rack of the toaster oven. Then she thought about that prowess again.
“Dwayne! Come and get it!” she hollered.
“That’s my intention.”
She jumped, startled by his voice so close behind her. “Darn it! How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to soak up the best view in Spring Grove.”
A hot flush rose from her neck at the sight of his bare chest. Dwayne had a manly chest. Not ripped like he worked out with weights, but a solid, working man’s chest. “I…um…I put on your shirt.”
“I see.” His blue eyes burned with desire.
“Breakfast is ready.”
“I see that too.”
Heart pounding, she pointed to a chair. “Sit. I’ll dish it up.” She gingerly pulled the hot toast from the rack and dropped two pieces on each plate next to the eggs.
“I could get used to this.”
So could she. “I’m not a very good cook.”
“I wasn’t referring to your cooking, Danaher.” He ran a callused hand across her bare bottom when she bent to put the plate in front of him. “Yum, yum.”
Would she ever breathe normally when she looked at him, felt his hands on her skin? Determined not to play the part of a needy, clinging vine—although needy described her perfectly this morning—she sat across from him and poured orange juice into his glass. “I…um…forgot to make coffee.”
The back screen door squeaked open. “Hello-oo, Mar-laa.”
“Oh, no, it’s Charlene.” She cast a desperate look at Dwayne. “What should we do?”
He shrugged.
Char charged into the kitchen. “Hi, sis, I…” Her eyes darted from Dwayne’s bare back to Marla’s face then his back again. “I do hope I’m interrupting something.”
She closed the distance to the round table and sat between them. “Good morning.” She took a piece of toast from Marla’s plate, spread a generous amount of marmalade on it, and took a bite. “Any more of that omelet? I’m starving.”
Dwayne pushed his plate toward her. “Good morning. You’re welcome to some of mine. Marla was generous with me.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Charlene got up, opened the cupboard, and took a plate for herself then she opened the utensil drawer and removed a fork.
Marla’s chest constricted and her ears rang. Unable to move or speak, she stared at her sister and Dwayne chatting as if nothing was out of order. It was perfectly normal for him to be found half-naked at her breakfast table, right?
Char gave her a brief glance and turned to Dwayne. “No tattoos? I was sure you’d have at least one, being in the Marines and all. Donnie’s got a big one right here.” She touched Dwayne’s pectorals and took a bite of the omelet. “Mmm, good.”
He smiled at her sister and took a swallow of orange juice. “No tattoos. I
