He had a bad feeling about tonight. From the time they’d met, he’d noticed how much she appreciated the ordinary things in life: fast food, a pretty view, even pumping gas. This afternoon, she’d had a long wait in line at a convenience store because the girl behind the register was too busy talking on the phone to tend to the customers. Instead of getting annoyed, Nell acted as if being ignored were a privilege. Dinner with the Waynes was going to be right up her alley.

She turned to him, a small frown creasing that smooth, upper-crust forehead. “Do you know how to make biscuits?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Or cornbread? She said she was having ham. Cornbread would be nice.”

“We’ve got an unopened package of tortilla chips, a couple of cans of pop, and some baby formula. I don’t think cornbread’s an option.”

“We have more things than that.”

“Yeah, but they all have Gerber on the label.”

“Gah!” Button shoved a cheese curl she’d scavenged from the floor into her mouth. Luckily, Nell didn’t see it.

“Cheerios!” She withdrew the box from the bottom cupboard as if she’d found buried treasure. “I knew we had something else. They’re such nice people.”

“Yeah, you could mix the Cheerios with that baby formula and throw some tortilla chips on top.”

“You might be more helpful.”

“I’m getting ready to eat dinner with the two worst dressers in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I guess it’s affected my attitude.”

She smiled at him, and for a moment he couldn’t do anything but look at her. At first she held his gaze, but then his scrutiny seemed to make her nervous and she began studying his right ear. Some perversely male part of him was glad she was nervous. It showed that she understood everything was about to change between them.

Time to stake his claim.

As Nealy felt Mat’s hand on her shoulder, her heart began to race. One moment everything had been easy and fun between them, but in the space of an instant something had shifted.

She felt his breath falling soft against her cheek, and the brush of his fingertips on her chin was feather light. He spread his big hand across her back, and as he drew her close, she realized he was aroused. This, she remembered, was the way a man was supposed to feel against a woman.

She had to do everything right. She couldn’t bear having him say she kissed like a little girl. When she was younger, she’d known how. Surely she could do it now.

Self-control had been bred into her Litchfield bones, and as his mouth covered her own, she forced herself to concentrate. One thing was certain. Passionate women didn’t kiss with their lips sealed.