His forehead dropped to hers. Their eyes both closed… then hers popped open again.
“That… that wasn’t a… You’re not…”
“Proposing? Hell no. I’m not Josiah. I’m not proposing to my girl in some generic hotel room. Screw that.”
She laughed, as that was a story she definitely hadn’t heard before. “You’ll have to fill me in on that one later.”
“Will do.” A knock sounded at the door, wordlessly reminding them about the time. “And the cavalry wants back in. You ready to do this?”
Kat wiped under her eyes and grimaced when she noticed the black smears that coated her fingers. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to fix this. I doubt a fresh, na?ve sort of girl would have raccoon eyes.” A glance at Michael’s shirt made her wince. “And you’ll need to change.”
Michael sighed dramatically. “Simon’s gonna have a fit.”
They both laughed, then kissed again before the pounding on the door forced them apart.
Two weeks after their impromptu videotaping in Los Angeles, Kat sat in her apartment, packing her tennis bag.
“How is it,” Michael wondered out loud as she searched in another half-open box for a new pair of workout shorts, “that you managed to get your things here, all your things, and you still have nothing to wear? Is this a female thing?”
“Hush, you.” She swatted at him as she flipped through the next box of clothes. She’d flown back to Florida to pack her apartment, sell her car and the biggest pieces of furniture, and arrange for the things she wanted to take with her to be shipped to her apartment in Santa Fe. She’d taken over the lease on the next door apartment from Sawyer—no longer her agent, which felt odd—and had been shocked when her things had arrived three days early. Boxes sat stacked everywhere around her apartment. She hadn’t been prepared.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about getting a house,” Michael said as she tossed several tank tops out of the box.
“Oh yeah?” She knew she sounded less than interested, but seriously, she was going to be late for practice. And there was no time for makeup after, because she had back-to-back-to-back lessons. Gary would kill her for wasting good court time. Her head in the last box her workout shorts could possibly be in, she tossed out a few more tops to make searching room.
“Watch it.”
She glanced over her shoulder and found Michael sitting there, a shelf-supporting tank top dangling from his head as he glared at her.
Kat fought the snicker, she really did. But it made its way out anyway.
Michael growled, grabbed for her, and pulled her against him. Kat shrieked and fought to get away, but he held her down and kissed her senseless until the tank top dropped from his head.
“It was a good look for you,” Kat said as she rubbed the fabric of the tank top between two fingers.
“Don’t even joke.” He let her up, and she walked back to the box and found her shorts—thank God—under the last layer of shirts.
“So, you didn’t say what you thought about the idea.”
“A house?” Shucking her capris, Kat pulled the shorts on and began the hunt for socks. “Sounds nice.”
“I want you to come with me when I start looking.”
“Okay.” Not in this box for sure. Maybe… “Were there any boxes with clothing out in the living room?”
“Kat.” Michael gently circled her wrist and pulled her down to sit in his lap. “Are you reading between the lines here?”
“I… no.” Blowing out a breath, she shook her head. “I’m too stressed about being late.”
“I’m asking you to help me house hunt so we can get a place. Together,” he emphasized.
“Together.” Kat blinked. “Wow.”
“Wow good?” he asked hopefully.
“Wow… wow.” Kat stood, then took in his hurt expression. “Oh no, Michael, I don’t mean that in a bad way. Really, I don’t.” She cupped his face and kissed him. “I just… I’m not ready yet. Not because of you. Definitely not you. I just… I need to get my feet under me. Fully, soundly, without any shaking. I don’t want to use you as a crutch. I need to move to Santa Fe—”
“Check,” Michael said, looking around her room at the boxes.
“I need to live alone for a bit, pay my rent, work my new job with Gary, compete in a few tournaments… on my own. I can’t explain why that’s important, but it is. Even if it’s only for a few months, I need it.”
“As long as you’re not stalling because of us or some concern with what other people will say,” he said grudgingly.
“Ask me again after your season is over.” She kissed his brow and felt the skin smooth out under her lips as he relaxed. “Better yet, ask after I come back from the Australian Open. There’s a lovely lull there between the Australian and French Opens. That would be ideal for moving lots of big boxes.”
“I’m asking,” he warned, kissing her one more time. “Don’t think I’m forgetting.”
“I wouldn’t dream,” she murmured and searched the boxes for her socks.