I close my eyes as I turn within his embrace to face him, not breaking the kiss, which is like no kiss I’ve ever experienced. It’s an apology. An affirmation. And a promise of what’s yet to come.

Graeme hauls me closer until our bodies are flush. I dive a hand into the soft strands of his rumpled hair. I’m on my toes. Then I’m off the floor completely as he lifts me to sit on the counter. I shove the pizza boxes away and they land with a fwap on the floor, crusts scattering across linoleum.

I don’t care.

His tongue dips into my mouth, and he tastes as crisp and bright as peppermint. Like a warm, sunny day on a white-sand beach. Like a lifetime full of promise. I hitch my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

A yowl like a woodchipper full of rocks echoes through the kitchen.

Graeme pulls back, frowning. “What the…”

“Noodles,” I groan.

Noodles the cat is sitting in front of his empty food bowl, snaggletooth jutting, feigning starvation—even though I fed him three hours ago. One eye stares at us like a disapproving chaperone, while the other ogles the refrigerator. His fur is especially wild today, a fluffy, ruffled mop.

Graeme’s eyebrows fly up his forehead. “That’s your cat?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“That’s your cat.”

“That’s my Noodles.”

His expression softens, his lips curving into an exultant grin. “And I thought Winnie was ugly,” he murmurs. Sliding his fingers into my hair, he palms my cheek. His blue eyes blaze like stars. “You know, I think I could fall in love with you.”

Warmth floods my chest. “Ditto.”

27

You’ve seriously never taken a personal day before?” Graeme asks. Dull, hazy sunlight peeks through my curtains and fans across his face from where he lies sprawled next to me in bed.

“Not like this.”

Except for a bout of pneumonia two years ago, this is the first time I’ve ever called off work last minute. I text Walsh a heads-up that I’m staying home today with Graeme, replace my cell phone on the nightstand, and snuggle back into the warm depths of my bed. My bare legs tangle with Graeme’s under the sheets. “Won’t James think it’s weird that we both called off today?”

Graeme props himself up on one elbow. “I doubt it. He doesn’t know I’m in town.”

My floral watercolor comforter pools low around his waist, revealing his strong chest, sculpted arms, and acres of glorious skin. My cheeks warm. Having a naked man in my bed has been a rarity in recent years. And having that naked man be someone who makes me want to sing and laugh and cry big, fat happy tears all at once is an absolute first. I run a palm over his whiskery face.