Can't Fight This Feeling

“Oh, you.” Now her face went really red. “You’re being so bad.”

“Not in the slightest,” he protested, enjoying himself to the utmost. “I didn’t say a word when you asked about buttering you up.”

She laughed out loud now. “And I thought the double dill had lifted my mood. I’ve got to admit it’s in the stratosphere now.”

“Yeah?” He smiled at her.

As if suddenly shy, Glory glanced down. Then her chin came up and her turquoise eyes were aimed right at his. “Yeah.”

God, she enchanted the hell out of him. He let go of her hand so they could return to their lunch. But they continued to talk, him asking questions about the products he could see on the nearby shelves. She gestured with her pickle and munched on her tuna-and-rye and he watched her every gesture with an avid gaze.

Glory, Glory, his inner voice commented. Hallelujah!

Then a customer came in, interrupting their private bubble. With an apologetic look, she slid off her stool to help the older gentleman who wanted parts for his pond pump. Kyle finished up his sandwich and finally, reluctantly stood. The house wasn’t going to paint itself.

Glory waved the customer out the door and looked over. “Time to get back to work?”

“Yeah.”

She walked with him toward the entrance. They lingered there. He flattered himself that she didn’t want to end their interlude any more than he did.

“I have something for you,” she said. “A gift. A little payback for lunch—which I’ll get next time.”

“No—”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “And after that we’ll be splitting the checks.”

Kyle stopped himself from saying any more. Her concern about his finances was so damn uncommon and so endearing...and the fact that she was talking about next times wasn’t something he wanted to halt.

“Okay,” he conceded, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers. “Gimme my present.”

From the front pocket of her butcher apron, she pulled out a soft cap of lightweight material. A painter’s hat. “Here’s a secret. You cover your head and you won’t be combing Evergreen out of your hair every night.”

“Thanks.” He took it from her and put it on at a jaunty angle. “How do I look?”

She was smiling as she pretended to consider the question, but as her gaze roamed over him, he saw the smile die and her body still. In the air between them, sexual tension hummed like a happy bee.

Kyle leaned close and spoke in a low voice. “I have a secret, too, Glory.”

“What?” she whispered back.

“I might need your help with my ball cock after all.”

And when she began to laugh, he kissed the sound off her lips. At his first touch she went serious again, and he did, too, because it had never been like this for him before. This sense of excitement, of rightness, of connection.

When someone passed on the sidewalk beyond the front window, they broke apart, both breathing hard.

“This isn’t the place, the time,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But come back soon? I’m really liking getting to know you, Kyle.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” he said with a smile. Then he left, taking the spurt of guilt he felt with him. There was an important part of him that she didn’t know and that he was intentionally keeping from her. It could have come out at the bar. It should have come out today.

But damn, everything was going so well. If he spoke the whole truth now, it might ruin what they were just beginning to build.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_49da3e0a-be97-5ff9-a167-89c79cf411d7)

ANGELICA INHALED A long breath on the doorstep of the Maids by Mac offices. The help-wanted sign was still displayed and it called to her like a siren. After two nights sleeping in her car and showering at the gym—her membership had been paid up in advance, thank goodness—she’d decided to take a second chance at getting the job. Yes, it might mean Brett eventually found out—and that would still sting her pride—but her situation became more critical each passing day.