Page 40 of Serenity Harbor

He had dreamed of her all night, a tangle of skin and heat and madness, and had awakened hard and aching. He hadn’t been able to shake the memories of their kiss—the taste of her, the sexy little breath she sighed against his mouth, the softness of her curves pressed to his chest.

His body stirred to life again, making him glad his position on the floor helped him conceal that fact.

She took in the scene at a glance and came to the correct conclusion.

“Apparently Cheerios wasn’t the preferred menu choice today.”

“Who knew?” he drawled. “Certainly not me.”

Her smile was not without sympathy. “This week it’s been Cinnamon Toast Crunch and scrambled eggs every morning. Nothing else will do.”

How had she figured Milo out so well after less than a week, when he had spent three times that with his brother and still considered him an unfathomable mystery?

Again, he couldn’t help wondering if he had been wrong to categorically dismiss the various professionals who had suggested a school that specialized in helping autistic children might be the best placement for Milo.

His brother had spent his first six years in chaos. Bowie couldn’t bring himself to go that route, though he hadn’t completely ruled out the possibility.

The sense of his own inadequacy sharpened his tone more than he intended.

“It might help if you bothered to share that particular info with me. Milo’s being his usual loquacious self.”

“I’ll write a sticky about the day’s menu preferences and put it on the refrigerator for you,” she answered in a cool voice that made him feel like a jerk.

“Sorry. It’s already been a long morning. He’s been up since five.”

“Ouch. I’m the one who should apologize for being late. I can finish up here, if you need to head into Caine Tech.”

He glanced at the clock and saw she was only a few minutes late. “We’re almost finished. I told him he’ll lose his purple car if he doesn’t help me clean up the mess he made. So far he’s doing a great job. That’s it, Milo. Almost there. I only see one more little puddle of cereal.”

Milo didn’t acknowledge him or meet his gaze, but he moved the towel to the spot Bowie indicated and wiped until it was gone.

“That should do it.” He wiped the wet cloth across the floor one more time behind him, then rose. “You brought a suitcase. Do I dare hope this means you haven’t changed your mind about staying here while you’re in town?”

A host of emotions chased themselves across her expressive features before she sighed. “I’ve changed it a hundred times since last night.”

“Still, here you are, suitcase in hand.”

Only now did he fully understand how apprehensive he had been since that ill-considered kiss—worried that she would not only refuse to stay in his house but would stop helping him with Milo altogether.

He didn’t want to think about how depressing that would have been—especially when he would have had no one else to blame but himself.

“You’re a tough man to say no to,” she murmured.

Not true. She certainly had found a way to do it the night before.

Eventually.

Against his will, his stomach muscles clenched with the echo of desire as he tried not to remember the sweetness of her mouth, the soft curves pressed against him, the hunger that had swirled around them.

“In that case,” he said, yanking his mind away, “let me introduce you to my brother, Milo Callahan. He can teach you all you ever imagined about that particular topic. Saying no to me, I mean.”

Her laughter rippled through the kitchen, and even Milo seemed affected by it. He looked up, and Bowie could swear his brother almost smiled.

The day that had started out rough suddenly took a brighter turn. The sunlight streaming in through the windows seemed more intense, and the world seemed beautiful and rich and full of promise.

He needed to get out of there. Quick.

“So,” she said after a moment, “where do you want me?”

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