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“Maybe keep your equipment concealed. Yeah?”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

He started to turn away.

“One more, just in case.”

Before he could ask what she meant, her fingers curled around his neck, pulling him back down.

Her lips met his.

For one stunned heartbeat, his mind went completely blank.

This wasn’t his kiss.

It was hers.

Felicity kissed him slowly, deliberately. His hand found her waist on instinct, drawing her closer.

The kiss deepened, stealing every coherent thought until the river, the fishing rods, and the world beyond the blanket simply ceased to exist.

When she finally eased away, they were both breathing harder than either of them should have been.

She glanced toward the river, refusing to look at him. “Just … maintaining the illusion.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Of course.”

She finally met his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

29

Not a date

Felicity hadn’t been back to his place in months, even avoided driving by, and she parked next to his truck, acutely aware of the unwelcome flutter in her stomach.

This felt too much like a date.

They’d spent the rest of the morning on the river, and Ronan had caught three more fish. There had been no further encounters with curious neighbors.

And definitely no more kisses.

They’d packed up as the sun reached its zenith, the river bright and exposed, and he’d dropped her off with the promise that she’d come over for supper.

“Bring the ladies,” he’d added.

So here they were, her and the ladies. Coming to eat the fish she’d watched him catch.

It was not a date.

Despite her kissing him. Thoroughly. Because that initial peck from him had merely whetted her appetite. Reminded her how good things were between them.

She grunted and lifted the dogs down, their leashes firm in her hand, and they dragged her along, sniff-snorting their way up the path.

The neatly clipped hedge of lavender lined the front veranda, soft mounds of silvery green not yet in bloom. She paused, taking in the tulips and daffodils running along the path, some still holding their color, others already fading. The rose bushes had filled out, glossy leaves and tight buds promising blooms still to come. The pots on either side of the steps spilled with pansies, their purple, yellow, and white faces glowing in the late afternoon sun.

She closed her eyes and lifted her face, breathing deeply, letting the sun warm her.