He circled one arm around her waist and dragged her against him. She could feel the hard heat of his arousal.

“You know the answer to that,” he whispered, his lips scant millimeters from hers. His breath fanned across her cheek.

“Cody.” His name came out as a broken sigh, a protest that not even someone far less relentless than Cody would have heeded.

“It’s okay,” he consoled her. “Everything is going to turn out just fine.”

He slanted his mouth over hers then, setting off fireworks in January. Why, why, why? her brain demanded. Why was her body so darned traitorous? Maybe it was like the tides. Maybe the way she responded to Cody was as immutable as the sun setting in the west.

She resisted the explanation. It meant she had no will at all to fight it. She put her hands on his chest and shoved with all her might. She might as well have been trying to topple a centuries’ old oak. Cody didn’t budge. He didn’t stop that tender assault on her mouth.

For what seemed an eternity he coaxed and plundered, teased and tasted until she was shivering with urgent and almost-forgotten need. When she was weak with a desire she definitely didn’t want to feel, Cody finally released her. She very nearly melted at his feet. In fact, she might have if he hadn’t kept his hands resting possessively on her hips. Even through her coat, her skin burned at his touch.

“So, what are we going to do with the rest of the afternoon?” he inquired. The gleam in his eyes suggested he had an idea of his own. His lips quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.

“Not what you’re thinking,” she said curtly.

His grin spread. “Don’t be so certain of that, sweet pea. It sounds an awful lot like a challenge and you know I never could resist a dare.”

Desperate for space, she backed away from him. “Give it a rest,” she said crankily.

He reached out and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. The sensation sent fire dancing through her.

“I’m just getting started, darlin’,” he murmured, his gaze locked with hers.

Melissa held back a sigh of resignation. “You’re not going home, are you?”

“When I can be with you? No way.”

“Come on, then.”

His expression immediately brightened. Once more he fell dutifully into step beside her. “Where are we going?”

“To buy groceries,” she said, plucking a boring chore out of thin air. “And after that, we’re ironing.” She slanted a look at him to judge his reaction. He didn’t bat an eye.

“Sounds downright fascinating,” he declared. He captured her gaze, then added slowly, “I’ve always been particularly fond of starch.”

She ignored the provocative tone. “Oh, really?” she said skeptically.