Page 11 of Sweet Obsession
Just then, the soft padding of footsteps outside the office, followed by a slight creak of the door, made both men look up. Jillian stood in the doorway, her eyes wide, dressed in a soft nightshirt, clearly unable to sleep either. She took in the scene—Preston, the papers, and him—and her gaze settled on Blake, a question in her eyes mirrored the chaos now churning in his own mind.
“Are we having a party?” In an effort to hide her exhaustion from tossing and turning, Jillian took a stab at lighthearted.
“Seems no one is sleeping tonight.” Preston closed the lid on the laptop and heaved a deep sigh. “I was just catching Blake up on the challenges the ranch has had this year.”
“Oh?” She felt her brows arch.
Preston nodded, then pushed to his feet. “I’m dead and too dumb to fall over. You two will have to entertain each other.”
Jillian’s cheeks warmed as thoughts of how to entertain each other flashed inappropriately in front of her.
From the way Blake sank a little lower in his seat, she wondered if his mind had taken a similar turn. “I was on my way to the kitchen for a drink.”
“Me too.” Jillian inched backward. Her intention had been not for a drink but to dive into a container of whatever ice cream called to her.
The three of them shuffled out of the room, Preston turning at the staircase and working his way upstairs, she and Blake made their way to the kitchen.
“What would you like?” Jillian pulled two bowls out of the cupboard.
Blake walked to the opposite cupboard, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he discovered like his grandmother’s house, things were in the same place they’d been for ages. “Just some water.”
Her head in the freezer, she moved the contents about, pulling out a container in each hand and holding them out to show their guest. “I have vanilla and butter pecan.”
The slight smile widened to a full grin. “Butter pecan.”
They walked back and forth past each other, Blake retrieving silverware from the drawer and napkins from the counter. Jillian stocked up with whipped cream, syrup toppings, maraschino cherry jar, and some chopped nuts.
His gaze following her from the fridge to table, their eyes met and Jillian shrugged, setting the ingredients on the table. “Hey, if we’re going to do it, we might as well do it right.”
This time, his brows rose high on his forehead and she realized how what she’d said sounded. This time there wasno doubt where their minds had wandered. Immediately, her cheeks flushed with heat again.
Blake’s smile bloomed impossibly wider. “You’re cute when you blush. I don’t remember you blushing much as a kid.”
At ten she was too dang young to understand anything about sex and double entendres. Not sure what she could possibly say, she opted to shrug and dig into the frozen container of butter pecan ice cream. Doling two large scoops into a bowl, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “More?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s plenty.”
She slid the bowl in front of him and filled her own bowl as he smothered his cold confection in whipped cream and marshmallow syrup.
Not to be shown up, she added twice as much whipped cream and nuts as well.
Together, they ate silently for a few minutes, when Blake stabbed his spoon into the mound of melting ice cream and looked up at her. “Are you really going to get married for the trust?”
Unable to meet his gaze, she stirred at the whipped cream. “That’s the plan.”
“Who?”
She dared lift her eyes to meet his. “Who?”
“Who are you going to marry for money instead of love?”
“It’s not like that.” She stabbed at the dessert again. “It’s a business deal. A marriage of convenience.” She lifted her chin and leveled her gaze with his. “In name only.”
He actually scoffed. “Right. Like any man would be willing to marry you and stay out of your bed.”
His tone was so bitter, she couldn’t decide if that was an insult or a compliment.
“Sorry.” He sighed and let his spoon rest in the bowl. “It’s not my business, and certainly not my place to judge.”
