Not that taking her up on her obvious invitation had to have consequences. In the long run. Even in the short. They were both adults, they both knew the ropes.

And that kind of thinking, he decided, would only get him in trouble.

Do your job, he told himself. Take her money. Keep your distance.

And stop thinking about that amazing, streamlined body of hers.

He poured a second cup of coffee—knowing he was damning himself to a sleepless night—then went back to work.

The next afternoon, Kate opened the door to find Brody on her doorstep. Her pleasure at that was sidetracked by the bright-eyed little boy at his side.

“Well, hello, handsome.”

“I’m Jack.”

“Handsome Jack. I’m Kate. Come in.”

“I’m just dropping off the drawings, and the bid.” Brody held them out, kept a hand firm on Jack’s shoulder. “My card’s in there. If you have any questions or want to discuss the drawings or the figures, just get in touch.”

“Let’s save time and look them over now. What’s your hurry?” She barely looked at him, but beamed smiles at Jack. “Brr. It’s cold out there. Cold enough for cookies and hot chocolate.”

“With marshmallows?”

“In this house, it’s illegal to serve hot chocolate without marshmallows.” She held out a hand. Jack’s was already in it as he bolted inside.

“Listen—”

“Oh, come on, O’Connell. Be a sport. So, what grade are you in, Handsome Jack?” She crouched down to unzip his coat. “Eighth, ninth?”

“No.” He giggled. “First.”

“You’re kidding. This is such a coincidence. We happen to be running a special today for blond-haired boys in first grade. Your choice of sugar, chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies.”

“Can I have one of each?”

“Jack—”

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” Kate said, ignoring Brody. She straightened, handed Brody Jack’s coat and cap and muffler, then took the boy’s hand.

“Are you the dancing lady?”

She laughed as she started back with him toward the kitchen. “Yes, I am.” With that sultry smile on her lips, she glanced back over her shoulder at Brody. Gotcha, she thought. “Kitchen’s this way.”

“I know where the damn kitchen is.”

“Dad said damn,” Jack announced.

“So I hear. Maybe he shouldn’t get any cookies.”

“It’s okay for grown-ups to say damn. But they’re not supposed to say sh—”

“Jack!”

“But sometimes he says that, too,” Jack finished in a conspirator’s whisper. “And once when he banged his hand, he said all the curse words.”

“Really?” Absolutely charmed, she pulled a chair out for the boy. “In a row, or all mixed up?”

“All mixed up. He said some of them lots of times.” He gave her a bright smile. “Can I have three marshmallows?”

“Absolutely. You can hang those coats on the pegs there, Brody.” She sent him a sunny smile, then got out the makings for the hot chocolate.

And not a little paper pack, Brody noted. But a big hunk of chocolate, milk. “We don’t want to take up your time,” he began.