Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)

“Game not that interesting?” she asked as she carried Caramel with her and plopped next to him. The dog immediately jumped onto his lap and stood on her tiny hind feet to kiss his chin. Then she flopped down in his lap and went to sleep. Fayrene cuddled close.

“The game’s okay,” Ryan said as he kissed her. “You’re better.”

She leaned against him. “You’re sweet to me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She glanced back at the table. “I’ve been over the schedule for the kids’ events. It looks doable.”

“You know I’m happy to help. Just tell me when to be where.”

“You don’t mind being around a bunch of children?”

He chuckled. “Nope. It’ll be good practice for us.”

Fayrene told herself to stay relaxed. That she couldn’t read too much into what he was saying. Although if he did propose, that would solve all of her problems.

“Good for us how?” she asked innocently.

He grinned and kissed her on the mouth. “For when we’re married. Although we’re not going to have as many as will be at the party. How many is that?”

“Twelve.”

“Right. I’m thinking more like two or three.”

“Do you want boys or girls?” she asked, willing herself to stay calm.

“Both. Either. I don’t care.” He kissed her again, then picked up the remote. “Not that we’re going to talk about this anymore.”

Disappointment flared. “We’re not?”

“Nope. You made it clear you want to wait for us to get married and I promised I was fine with that.” The humor faded as he looked at her. “I mean it, Fayrene. What you want is important to me. I know you said talking about our future too much is like pressuring you. So let’s drop the subject and watch the game. Caramel is a Dodgers fan.”

Fayrene told herself not to stamp her feet in frustration. That Ryan was a great guy and only doing what she asked. She should be happy about that.

Only she wasn’t.

“I don’t think she is,” she managed to say. “I think she’s more into the American League.”

Ryan laughed, then reached down and rubbed the dog’s tummy. “Is that true, little girl?”

Caramel wiggled to get on her back and then closed her eyes and sighed with contentment.

* * *

DELLINA ARRIVED AT Sam’s office armed with folders and lists, but also with the determination that the two of them were going to have a serious talk. Last time she’d been overwhelmed by the offices themselves—the pictures, the obvious success and power flaunted. Now she barely saw the larger-than-life photos, although she was still going to have to worry about being dazzled by the man. But at least the number of her problems had been cut in half.

“I know the way back,” she told the receptionist, and walked purposefully toward Sam’s office. As she wasn’t stopped at any point, she must have been given the all clear by Sam or maybe Taryn.

She paused briefly outside his partially open office door, drew in a breath for courage, then knocked once and went inside.

Sam sat at his desk. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt with a tie. The tie was loose and the sleeves rolled up. He looked mussed and a little distracted, as if he’d been wrestling with a weighty problem. She had the brief thought that it would have been so much more fun for both of them if he’d been wrestling with her.

Before she could scold herself for getting off topic so quickly, even if it was just in her head, he glanced up and saw her. In that nanosecond before the walls came down, she saw the flash of desire. It was hot and bright and made her feel all quivery inside. Even after it was hidden, she knew what she’d seen. A little of her annoyance faded. They were still going to have to talk about what happened, but maybe she could be less shrill.

He rose. “Dellina. Did we have a meeting scheduled?”

“No, I stopped by. Do you have a minute?”

The question was offered out of politeness because she wasn’t leaving until they got their problem if not fixed, then at least managed.

“Of course,” he told her as he stood. He glanced at the tote bag she held. “Why don’t we use the conference table?”

Better than the sofa, she thought. Less sexy. With a table between them, she would have a chance to remember she was here about business. That she and Sam had a weekend party to get through and that whatever was going on between them would have to be dealt with after that.

They sat down across from each other. She did her best to ignore how the slightly disheveled look made him seem more approachable and therefore more appealing.

“You’re like Mr. Darcy,” she said without thinking.

His eyebrows drew together. “Excuse me?”

She did her best not to grin. Now that she’d had the thought, she couldn’t escape it. “Proud, remote, difficult to read.” She paused. “It’s not a bad thing. Most women like Mr. Darcy. He’s a Jane Austen character. From Pride and Prejudice.”

“I’m familiar with the work,” he said drily.

“You’ve read it?”

“And seen the movie. Yes.”