But when he stretched while rubbing his bristly morning face against her, she couldn’t take how her stomach did another flip. “Hey, I’m not a scratching post.”

Instead of backing off, he wrapped his arm back around her and rubbed harder while tickling her stomach.

“Daniel!” It came out a giggling screech—her stomach was the tickliest part of her body, which the demon very well knew. “I’m—going—to—kill—you!” she managed to gasp out between giggles.

Flipping to her back when he finally released her, she found an unrepentant Daniel Esera grinning at her. And boom, there went that fist of “like,” right into her chest, clamping itself around her heart. “I’ll get you for that,” she threatened, hoping he’d put her husky voice down to having just woken.

“Promises, promises.” Twisting, he bounded out of bed. “That was a good sleep.” With that satisfied pronouncement, he spread out his arms in a full-body yawn, all rippling abs and brown skin that glowed with health. “Want an omelet for breakfast?”

“With cheese. And onions. Lots of onions.”

“Weirdo. But okay.” Then he was gone, flexing his arms back to stretch his shoulders as he padded out the door, his body on bold display. She’d seen that body countless times over the years, from back when it was skinny and lanky, then lightly muscled, then as it was now. It had never made an impact in a male-female sense.

This morning her cheeks burned, flutters erupting everywhere.

Exhaling loudly, she stared up at the ceiling. “I do not need this complication,” she muttered. “I have enough on my plate.”

But her body wasn’t in the mood to listen. Neither was her heart. Because it wasn’t about Danny’s admittedly spectacular body—it was about the fact he’d made her cookies he damn well knew she couldn’t resist, how he’d come in here and sat with her, talked with her, watched TV with her, played silly guessing games with her where they tried to predict the plot.

Just because she’d needed it.

She had to admit it: Daniel Esera would make a wonderful boyfriend—for the right woman.

Danny slung the strap of his duffel over his shoulder, then grabbed Catie’s small roll-on case with his other hand. When she didn’t argue with him, just closed the door of their taxi and waited on the curb in front of the departure area of the airport, he knew her leg had to still be giving her trouble. Not enough for her to not wear the prosthesis on that leg, but enough for her gait to not be quite even, and for her to let him get away with playing knight in blue jeans and a gray sweatshirt.