Not the least worried, Danny checked what he’d put in the oven, then returned to his current work in progress, his biceps flexing as he began to whisk again. “Go away.” A growl in his tone that threatened to cause a tingle inside her. “My genius needs space.”

Catie wanted to get up and—

Eyes wide, she pulled back her thoughts with a painful screech.

Tingle? What the hell?

Her cheeks flushed. It was the whole cooking thing, she told herself as she picked up the contract again. It was stirring a primordial part of her nature. It had nothing to do with Danny.

Nothing at all.

6

WHEREUPON WE LEARN THAT DANNY IS A HIGH-MAINTENANCE CASANOVA

Delicious smells permeated the air by the time she finally finished reading the contract—she refused to think about why it had taken her so long to concentrate. Putting it aside, she typed up an email on her phone asking for clarification on a couple of clauses, pushed Send, then looked up.

To see Danny walking over with a plate of cookies.

“Eee!” Sitting up, she made gimme hands.

Lips curving, he put the plate on her lap, then placed a glass of milk on the coffee table next to her. “Don’t inhale them! They’re meant to be savored.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she said around a mouthful of warm cookie.

Shaking his head, he returned to get himself a glass of milk and his own plate of cookies. Because he knew Catie wouldn’t share hers. Then he sat at the other end of the couch, and they ate cookies and drank milk like any other hot young twentysomethings who were having a flaming affair.

Despite Catie’s speed eating, he was done before her.

She still thought it sucked how much he could put away and not gain a freaking ounce. That they were both athletes with intensive training schedules just made it worse.

After drinking his milk, he stretched an arm out along the back of the sofa and turned to her. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the whole public backlash.”

“Uh-huh.” In a sugar-chocolate-raisin haze, she licked her fingers.

Danny’s eyes followed the movement before lines formed between his eyebrows and he flicked his attention back to her face. “I have a problem too—the fact I haven’t been in a steady relationship is becoming a PR issue.”

“You’re a twenty-four-year-old star rugby player,” Catie said dryly. “No one expects you to settle down.”

“Twenty-five in just over a week,” Danny pointed out.

“My argument stands. Lots of people our age are single.” She pointed at herself as an example.