He dampens a paper towel under the tap and comes back over. “I’m sorry,” he says, attempting to look contrite, but his twitching lips rat him out. “You should have held still.”
“Yeah, that’s why it happened.”
“If it’s any consolation,” he comments while one hand holds my jaw and the other gently wipes the lower half of my face, “you look adorable.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I scoff. “But turnabout is fair play.”
“Oh yeah?” He smiles and tweaks my nose. “What are you going to do?”
He turns his back to toss the paper towel in the garbage, and when he does I grab the can of whipped cream off the counter. When Mick turns, I’m armed and ready.
I let go a stream that hits him squarely on the mouth and cheek. The stunned look on his face is priceless. Knowing he won’t let me get away with that, I quickly dash around the island.
“Hand it over,” he demands, wiping the smear from his cheek with his fingertips and then licking both his lips and fingers clean.
“Not a chance unless you call it even.”
His eyes glint under the recessed lights. “Screw even. I play to win.” With that, he vaults across the island with the agility of a jungle cat.
I take off at a dead run into the living room, squealing with laughter. His bare feet slap the hardwood, chasing me in hot pursuit. I manage to get behind the couch but realize I’m trapped.
“Now what?” he taunts me from the other side.
There’s too much open space. Either direction I run he’ll catch me…unless I can fake him out. Adrenaline pumping, I move to the right and when he does, too, I swing back to the left and get all the way to the end of the armless sectional before he reaches me and lunges.
Whump!My back hits the cushions lengthwise and I slide across the leather. I scream and try to scuttle away, but Mick catches me by the ankles and hauls me back, climbing atop me. I hold fast, but between his tickles and his strength, he gets my arms raised above my head and pries the can from my grip. It rolls to the floor.
Both of us winded from exertion and laughter, he levers himself up, his chest heaving against mine and looks down into my face.
Awareness sparks.
Our laughter fades away.
My breath catches.
His head lowers.
Our lips graze.
My heart is thudding so loudly that it takes a few seconds for me to realize that the knock that’s echoing through the living room is actually coming from the front door. With a throttled curse, Mick leans his forehead against mine. His rapid breaths strike my face. “Talk about bad timing.”
On the contrary, the timing is just right to break out of this intense sexual force field and regain my bearings.
“You should answer that.”
“It’s probably just my neighbor.”
“Could be important.”
“I doubt it.”
I struggle against his unyielding hold. “You should check anyway.”
He rolls off me and, climbing to his feet, offers me his hand. Then, dragging his fingers through his hair, he swaggers to the door. I walk over to the wall of windows.
On a clear day, it must provide a perfect picture of Chicago’s skyline. Tonight, the thrashing rain obscures the view and rattles the glass. A backdrop befitting my tumultuous emotions.
“What is it?”
