As sergeant, he made it a point to always put in the paid time, but in half an inhale of her sweet scent, he faced temptation in all its glory. Thirty minutes, maybe twenty. Could they? Nope, not enough time. He swallowed the rest of the juice, rinsed the cup, and put it in the dishwasher.
“Going back to work?” She unzipped her coat and shrugged out of it, laying it over a chair.
“Yeah, have to.” The need to take her upstairs warred with work habits.
“You’re not a normal man.” She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to her coffee.
Tom leaned back against the kitchen sink and crossed his arms in front of him to keep from pulling her close. “Define normal.”
“You pick up after yourself, get places on time without me reminding you, do your own laundry, never nag.”
“Nag?” He stepped forward to sweep her hair back from her face.
Her eyes widened, the green of the iris reflecting deep pools of surprise. She stepped closer.
When the warmth of her landed against him, he admitted it. He was a guy. He eyed the fitted red Henley and the deep cleavage there and lost a step in the battle.
Summer’s quiet voice broke the spell. “Look at you? You put your glass in the dishwasher, your breakfast dishes are there, too, and you were out the door forty minutes early.”
“Is there a problem here?” He lifted her chin and ran a thumb over her lower lip. “Trying to be a good husband. I don’t expect you to do all the cleaning.”
“I get lost in my painting.” She laced her fingers with his.
He smiled, focusing on what she didn’t say. “I watch you get lost.”
“Yes, it used to break my concentration, but now, it doesn’t. What does that say?” Utterly confused, she pouted.
Tom kissed her forehead, hoping to reassure her with a casual act that should signal acceptance. “You love me. You like me in your space.”
She took several more gulps of coffee, then dumped her cup and followed his example, rinse, dishwasher, done.
He pulled her closer again, his mouth cruising her ear. “Thanks for dinner last night.”
“It was leftovers.”
“It was so good. I hope you and Adelina had a good conversation.”
“We did and everyone enjoyed your singing.”
“Even you?”
“Yes, but I could have done without singing with you.”
“My favorite part.” He kissed her and lingered in the softness of her lips, then slipped his tongue into her mouth. Deep, yet gentle. One intended to transmit love and care. She kissed him back, following his lead. Must do more of this. They needed the attention, him to her and her to him.
She pulled away first, shaking her finger under his nose. “Go to work. We have no time for what you’re thinking, and quickies aren’t working for us lately.”
He sighed and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, keeping his hands on her because he could. “Damn job.”
She stepped away, and he let her go. One, because she was right. And two, because if he didn’t, he’d haul her upstairs. He could not even imagine explaining to the chief why his patrol vehicle was parked at home for an extended period. Getting waylaid by sex while on duty wasn’t something he ever contemplated saying to the man. “Damn job,” he repeated, regret for not having the freedom to seize the moment pierced him.
She crossed to the sink and took a sponge to wipe the counter where the juice had been. “You don’t mean that, and I have stuff to do. I want to create a spectacular tree this year that will knock Mrs. Patch off her porch, and I have actual work to tend to. Get out.”
“Mean, Summer Girl. Just mean.” He kissed her again, lightly this time. “Painting today?” He grabbed his police jacket on the hook by the back door.
She shook her head. “No, drawing for a while. Got a few ideas I want to get sketched. I have a phone call scheduled with Jonathan soon, too. Plus, more library time reading town history.”
He leaned in to kiss her. “Stay warm. Weather changing.”
