“That kind?”
Kay waved her hands expressively as she reached for another muffin. “Bondage,” she clarified.
“I should have thought of that last night,” Mitch said thoughtfully.
Kay chuckled. “I’ve been accused of being trouble to sleep with before.”
“Have you?”
“Don’t come to any dirty conclusions, Cochran. I shared a double bed with my little sister until she whined for my parents to get us twin beds.” She cocked her head, licking a smidgen of blueberry from her finger. “Was I really that much trouble?”
“I’m still alive,” he assured her, “but barely.” The only thing in his head was dirty conclusions. Other men who’d covered her up. Other men who’d had the right to. He reached over to flick a crumb from her chin, his touch so gentle she could barely feel it, his head filled with not so gentle thoughts about murdering any other man who touched her.
“Mitch.” She reached for a napkin, and the comforter slipped to reveal every damn curve. “You’re being remiss as host,” she said teasingly.
“Pardon?” He forced his eyes up.
“A spare toothbrush,” she suggested mildly. “A comb. A little soap. It’s going to be bad enough going home looking like a bag lady, with saggy hose and wrinkled outfit and straggly hair. But I have a sneaky feeling that there are mascara smudges under my eyes-”
“There are,” he affirmed. He liked them. Actually, he was fascinated by them. Her makeup had begun to wear off before they’d gone to bed; he’d been intrigued by that process in itself. The flawless matte finish had gradually eroded to reveal a trace of freckles across her nose. Obviously, she was sensitive about them. But he couldn’t imagine why she wore the mascara; her lashes were already thick and soft, and those tiny flickers of black on her cheeks somehow made her look incredibly vulnerable.
He loved waking up with her. She was natural and easy and woke up in good humor, ready to start a day she already knew would be good. How could it not be good? She was in it.
Kay loved waking up with him. She’d been afraid it would be uncomfortable, awkward. It could have been-with some men.
But not with Mitch. Sex or no sex, there was a delicious feeling of intimacy between them this morning. There was laughter when he draped his robe around her, and more laughter as he stood gravely in the bathroom doorway long enough to “find out whether you squeeze the toothpaste in the middle.”
The kitchen looked post-bomb-squad after his simple exercise of making muffins. Mitch seemed startled at the mess he’d made, and his expression made her laugh again. She puttered around, cleaning up, because she liked puttering in the morning, while Mitch glared at her over his coffee cup, because by that time in the morning he obviously liked his cup of coffee, but he didn’t like the idea of her cleaning up his mess.
She didn’t like the idea of going home. He didn’t like the idea either, but she didn’t realize that until they were in the car and he pinned her down at every stop sign for a kiss. The kisses were getting disgracefully long by the time they arrived at her door.
He claimed she tasted good, and that he was hungry. He hadn’t had any breakfast; she’d eaten all of the blueberry muffins.
She would have to serve him breakfast, lunch and dinner, if he’d come inside with her.
But he left her on the doorstep.
“Kay?” Stix gave the front door a token knock-once he’d opened it and was already inside.
Lying on the carpet with a book in her hand, Kay garbled an “over here!” through a mouthful of apple.
“I can’t see anything but your feet,” Stix said with amusement. Her bare feet were propped up on the sofa. When Stix peered around the couch, he just shook his head. “You can’t be comfortable.”
Kay chuckled. “I’ve been reading upside down ever since I was a little kid. I can’t break the habit now. Good morning, incidentally. You’re certainly up at a disastrously early hour-for you. Particularly on a Sunday morning.”
“I came to talk to you.” Tossing his jacket on a chair, Stix made his way to the kitchen. After a moment, Kay heard him making coffee and reflected that by the time Stix actually married, she would have him very well trained for domestic life.
In the meantime, she yawned and returned to her book. Last night the temperature had hovered around ten degrees, and when she’d awakened to a white December morning, laziness had hit her like a submarine. She’d roused herself long enough to make breakfast, build a terrific fire and grab a pillow and a book. Her jeans and crewneck sweater were old and baggy, ideal attire for a somnolent winter morning.
Engrossed in her book, she barely glanced up when Stix set the steaming coffee mug down beside her. “Did you know,” she asked him, “that if you wrap some catnip in a chamois and hold it in your hands until the catnip gets warm, the next man to hold your hand will fall in love with you?”
“Is this a quiz?” Stix eased himself down on the floor, his long legs taking up more space than her entire body. Pushing up the cover of her book, he read, “Modern Day Witchcraft. I see your reading’s taken a decidedly intellectual turn, shortie.”
“You want to hear another good one?”
“No.”
“You take five strands of the woman’s hair and three strands of the man’s hair and weave them together, then toss them into the fire. This causes the man and the woman to be consumed by passion for each other.”
Stix looked patient. “Could we at least give serious conversation a whirl?”
“Certainly.” Kay set the book on her chest with a grin. Propping a pillow behind her, she reached for the coffee mug and took a sip.
Stix leveled her a steadfast stare, then cracked his knuckles like a nervous adolescent. “You know, it’s only ten days until Christmas. Are you planning to spend it with your folks?”
“Nope. Mom and Dad are taking a cruise, leaving on the twenty-sixth. Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No, you didn’t. What about your sister?”
“Jana’s planning to go with them. As always, it depends on her health.” Kay’s eyes clouded. “She’s been doing terrific lately, but from month to month that changes. She wants so badly to take a full-time job, but I don’t know if she can handle it.”
“You didn’t tell me that, either.” There was a plaintive note in Stix’s voice that made Kay’s eyebrows arch in surprise. “You free this afternoon? I thought we’d do a little ice skating. John’s set up a rink-”
She shook her head. “Can’t, Stix, but thanks. Mitch is picking me up at three. We’re going to his parents’ house.”
“His parents?” Stix echoed.
“You know. The people who brought him into the world. It’s a fairly common, phenomenon-” Stix’s booted foot nudged her thigh, and she chuckled.
“That’s exactly what I came to talk to you about, dunce. The birds and the bees.”
“I’d rather read. I teach that stuff all week.” She grabbed her book and opened to the appropriate page again.
Stix got up long enough to seek out the Sunday paper in the wicker stand by the couch. Folding himself back down on the carpet next to her, he crackled the paper and promptly buried himself behind it. “He’s becoming a fixture around here. I thought I just might bring that to your attention.”
“Are we by any chance talking about Mitch?” Kay asked demurely.
Stix rattled his paper irritably. “Let’s see,” he drawled. “Last Monday I found you both curled up in front of the TV set watching a horror movie.”
“A thriller, not a horror movie,” Kay corrected absently. Mitch had repeatedly rooted for the villain. After which they’d walked the streets of Moscow in the dead of night. Even her navel had been frostbitten, she’d told him when they’d come home. He’d gravely inspected her navel, and thawed it out with his tongue. And then he’d left her, very gentleman-like.