She gave Atlas some bacon. He eyed her adoringly.
Gemma only picked at her food. Boone noted that one of her legs was bouncing, and she was nibbling on her bottom lip.
“Gemma, you’re safe.”
Her gaze flicked up. “It’s not easy to turn off the worry.” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. It must be nothing compared to when you were deployed in dangerous countries. Facing deadly situations.”
“Hey.” He touched a hand. “This is a scary situation. I was trained and armed, and I had my team.”
Meanwhile, assholes had attacked and drugged this woman, and she’d had no one.
She pushed to her feet and started pacing. Atlas watched her intently.
Boone watched the sunlight highlight her pretty face. Her strides were jerky, and she clutched her hands in front of her.
“Gemma?”
She looked at him. “Sorry, I pace when I’m upset.”
“What do you need to relax? To get your mind off things?”
“I need to bake.”
“I don’t have much kitchen stuff.”
Gemma waved a hand at Boone as she opened the cupboard doors and drawers. “I don’t need fancy stuff.”
She pulled out a chipped mixing bowl. She’d already found flour, sugar, milk, eggs, and a few other things she could use.
“I’m going to make cookies and a cake.”
Atlas, who was sitting nearby, straightened. Gemma frowned at the dog.
“Not sure they’re good for you, boy.” She tapped a finger against her chin. “I need to do a little research on dog-friendly baking. Can I borrow your laptop?”
“Sure.” Boone eyed his dog. “But a human-friendly cake is first priority.”
She grinned at him. “Don’t worry, big guy. Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Chocolate.” His answer was instantaneous.
Her grin widened. Boone Hendrix liked chocolate. She felt a pop of warmth for his enthusiasm.
Her mom and dad never wanted to eat any cake, or cookies, or pie. They were always on some healthy eating plan with their personal trainers.
“My grandmother used to bake. It’s one of those clear memories, me as a little girl and her letting me stir the mixture in this giant bowl.” Gemma started putting ingredients in the bowl in front of her. She cracked an egg. “Who made you chocolate cake when you were little?”
A strange look crossed his face. “No one.”
She stilled. “No one?”
He looked away. “My parents died in a car accident when I was twelve. My uncle raised me. He wasn’t much for baking.”
Gemma’s heart clenched. Her parents didn’t understand her, often disappointed her, and they didn’t hide that she disappointed them constantly. But they loved her in their own way. Her childhood had held plenty of good memories and privilege.
And her grandmother had been a soft, bright refuge from her workaholic parents.
She tried to picture a young Boone, which was kind of hard. It was tough to imagine him as anything other than tall with broad shoulders. But then her brain conjured up a tall, gangly boy. A young Boone raised by a bachelor uncle.
Had there been love in his house? Anything soft and sweet?
Well, today, she could give him soft and sweet.
“Prepare yourself for some chocolate cake.”
Atlas made a whining sound.
“Right. And some awesome doggie treats. Let me get this cake in the oven, and then I’ll find some treat recipes to blow your doggie mind, Atlas.”
Gemma finished mixing all the ingredients. The oven was old, but functional, and she found one pan she could use. It was the only pan.
“Boone, can you give me a hand?”
“Sure.” He circled around behind her, and she handed him the bowl.
“Hold that, and tip it while I scrape the mixture into the pan.”
He obediently tilted the bowl while she used a spoon to scrape the mixture out. But instead of scenting her mixed ingredients, she got a whiff of Boone—clean skin, soap, and an undertone of leather.
Her belly clenched. It was a totally normal reaction to a hot guy. It had been a long time since she’d been with a guy. Her last boyfriend had seemed nice until she realized that he’d been trying to get a job at her father’s company.
Trust was not a commodity she had a lot of, lately. She scraped the bowl and moved the spoon too quickly. She splattered chocolate over both hers and Boone’s hands.
“Oh, sorry.”
Holding the bowl with one hand, he lifted his other hand and licked his fingers.
Her belly clenched even more. He had really nice hands, and a nice mouth.
“You shouldn’t eat that,” she said. “It has raw eggs in it.”
He smiled. “I’ve eaten worse.”
It was a hell of a smile. The flutters in her belly intensified. She imagined him licking other things. Like her.
Eek, Gemma. Stop fantasizing about the man.
“Right. Okay.” She clumsily stepped back and hit the packet of flour with her elbow. It dropped to the floor, and a cloud of white puffed into the air.
“Oh, no!”
“Don’t worry.” Boone set the bowl down. They both moved toward the mess and collided. She pressed her hands to his shirt.
Gemma sucked in a breath. How could a man’s chest be so hard?
They were both dusted in flour. He also had a streak of it on his face, caught in the scruff on his square jaw.
She’d also added two white handprints to his T-shirt.
“Sorry,” she squeaked again.
He stepped closer. “You have flour in your hair.”
She laughed. “Not the first time. Although it doesn’t usually happen this dramatically.” She stepped a little closer to his body.
Boone’s head lowered. Her belly felt alive, and she went up on her toes.
Their lips were just an inch apart. Gemma’s heart pounded. She’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted this man to kiss her.
Well, she was done waiting. She tilted her head and pressed her mouth to his.
Oh. Holy moly.
Her hands twisted in his shirt so she could pull him closer. His mouth was hot, his tongue stroking hers. He tasted like every delicious dessert she’d ever coveted.
He made a deep sound and angled his head to take the kiss deeper. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted. She wanted it faster, deeper, hotter.
She never wanted it to stop.
Suddenly, he stiffened, his hands gripping her biceps. “Crap, I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“You’ve been through a lot. You’re in a terrible situation. I know you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared anymore. Thanks to you.”
Something moved through his gold-brown eyes. “I’m no hero.”
“I beg to differ.” She slid her hands up his chest. “Boone?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not scared, nor do I feel worried or pressured right now.”
His brow creased. “Good.”
“And I want you to kiss me again. Actually, I kissed you the first time. So, I want you to kiss me this time.”
She felt his muscles tense. For a second, she was sure he was about to pull away.
Then he yanked her up and kissed her.
Oh. Oh.
Gemma threw her arms around his neck. Her body was flush against his. Then his tongue was in her mouth.