“Jase.” I shift so we’re almost face-to-face. I don’t know why I said his name, don’t have a reasonable explanation other than maybe it’s my way of reminding myself of the situation. Of what can’t—what shouldn’t be. But when my eyes flutter up to meet his, there’s no mistaking the darkening of his pupils and the bob of his Adam’s apple.

He’s . . . gorgeous. Like this. In his element. It calls to me on levels I can’t comprehend.

“Hendrix.” His voice is soft. Deep. Hesitant yet heavy like he wants to ask what he knows he shouldn’t.

The moment stretches as my body burns bright with ache and need and confusion.

“Jase? You back there?” Halle’s voice calls out from somewhere in the house and shocks me off his lap.

“I’ve gotta—I need to . . . yeah.” I give up trying to pretend I have my cool about me. “I’ve got to get some work done.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder like a dork as if he didn’t know where I’d be going.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Baking. I bake.” Brilliant, Hendrix.

The smile playing at the corners of his mouth says he thinks as much. “This is going to be a problem, isn’t it?” he asks, his head angling to the side and his tongue licking out to wet his bottom lip.

“What is?” I ask.

“Jase?” Halle calls again.

“Back here,” he says loudly, but his eyes never leave mine. “Wanting you and not being able to have you.”

“Oh.” Oh. OH.

I stand there in the doorway, shocked by his words with my pulse pounding in my ears. I need to say something more—something literate—but I don’t think I can.

Every part of me wants to say he’s joking, flirting, but the expression on his face says otherwise.

Halle’s footsteps are coming closer.

“I’ll let you get used to the idea, Cookie. Pretty sure you’re a look before you leap type of girl whereas I just leap. There’s a reason I’m the one in trouble.” He lifts his eyebrows as Halle steps in and halts momentarily, clearly sensing there’s something going on here.

“Hi. Sorry. Am I interrupting something? I can go out to the kitchen,” she says as she moves across the studio and sets her bag down in a subtle attempt to let us finish whatever our moment was.

“No need to,” Jase says as a smile crawls over his lips and I step out of the room, desperate for a moment to think clearly.

I move down the hall toward the kitchen as Jase’s voice floats after me. “We were just mapping out what we’ve coined to be Operation Live-A-Little. I think Hendrix might need time to get used to the idea.”

“Oh? What’s that?” she asks in her chatty way.