“I would love that.”
Coco gazed up at her, hesitating, before throwing shyness to the wind and grabbing her around the waist in a hug. For a sweet span of seconds, the little girl held on tight. And then she broke away and ran off toward the bedrooms.
Karin leaned close and whispered in Madison’s ear, “My daughter’s got a big crush on you.”
“It’s mutual, I promise you.”
* * *
It was still early when Sten walked her back to her house.
“Saturday, then.” he said, when they reached the glass door that led into the kitchen. “We’ll leave at three. Wear something you don’t mind getting wet and covered with sand. Got rain boots?” When she shook her head, he said that Karin probably had a pair she could use.
“Great.” She’d spent a few hours with him, max. But she already knew that look on his face. He was preparing to make his escape. She caught his hand.
“Madison, I...”
She silenced him with a finger to her lips and then pulled him inside.
“What?” he asked, as she slid the door shut.
She simply stared up at him. His eyelashes were so thick and dark and his eyes said he really did like her—but he wasn’t sure that was wise.
He asked, “So, do you know how to get in touch with the Bravos?”
Still holding his hand, she stepped right in close, took his other hand, too, and twined their fingers together. He smelled so good, like wood shavings and cloves—and what had he just asked her?
Right. The Bravos and how to contact them. “I have phone numbers and addresses for all of them—and for the two elderly Valentines, Percy and Daffodil, as well.”
“They’re good people. You should just give one of them a call.”
“I told you. I’m not there yet.” And she wasn’t letting him go yet, either. Slowly, each move careful and deliberate, she guided his hands to her waist. When he didn’t pull back, she eased her fingers free of his hold, lifted her hands and pressed her palms to his chest. He was so warm. Even through his shirt, she felt the lean strength of him. “I like you, Sten. I like you a lot.”
He frowned, and she just knew he was going to retreat. She steeled herself to accept that. But then he said, “You smell like the best things. Like petunias.” He bent close. She tipped her head to the side, encouraging him, and shivered in anticipation as his nose grazed the side of her throat. “And roses and lemongrass, starch and sunshine...”
“It’s my perfume,” she said on a silly little hitch of breath.
He chuckled. And he brushed those sexy lips, up and down, right where his nose had been. “All that goodness is just perfume?”
Greatest. Moment. Ever. If only it would never have to end. “Well, maybe not the starch and sunshine part. I’m not sure where that comes from.”
“I give.” He pressed the words into her skin using those wonderful lips of his.
He gave what?
She didn’t really understand what he meant—and truthfully, she didn’t care. Not as long as he kept holding her, kept touching her in this tempting, perfect way. She pressed herself closer with a happy sigh.
And he lifted one hand from her waist. Before she could demand that he put it back where she’d so deliberately placed it, he cupped her chin and tipped up her face to him. His eyes were low now, lazy. Slumberous. “Can’t resist.”
That sounded really good. “Can’t resist...what?”
“You.” He dipped his head closer.
She surged up to meet him. “Sten.” She kissed him.
And he kissed her back, all slow and gentle and just what she needed. She slid her arms up the solid shape of him and twined them around his neck.
Oh, it was everything. Kissing him was the best.
