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never to have kids of her own. She made her living with children. Day in, day out, her life was a revolving door of educating—and sometimes mothering—young people. That left her emotionally depleted. Her personal life would only include adults. And maybe a dog.
    Not that she didn’t want a family. It was that her definition of the word was nothing more than a husband and wife. Two people who would share their lives, spending time traveling and seeking out all the experiences the world had to offer.
    Maybe she’d chosen four bedrooms because in the back of her mind she was thinking about the Ladies Who Lunch. Or maybe because four was her lucky number.
    The longer Nate was in her home, the more Dani relaxed. By the time she led him back downstairs and to the kitchen, things between them seemed natural. Easy. Exactly like at school.
    “And here’s the
pièce de résistance
,” she said, sweeping her arm toward the kitchen.
    Nate strode to the enormous island, smoothed his hands over the gray granite, and gaped like a child seeing the bounty left by Santa Claus on a Christmas morning. “My, oh my…” He glanced at her, smiling. That dimple was going to be the death of her. “Did I tell you how much I love to cook?”
    “No, you didn’t.” They’d talked. A lot. About books. About music. About running. Although she was getting to know him better, there was still much about Nate Ryan she needed to learn.
    “Well, I do.”
    “So do I.”
    He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hope the apartment’s kitchen is half this nice.”
    “Um, about that…” She nibbled on her bottom lip, feeling guilty.
    His touch turned to a caress as he rubbed her bare upper arms. “What’s wrong?”
    “I didn’t tell you, and I probably should have, especially since you’re so excited now…”
    “Tell me what?”
    She couldn’t speak; she was simply too tongue-tied. He was sure to be disappointed that she hadn’t told him, probably doubly disappointed since he enjoyed cooking so much.
    That, and his touch evoked memories of his kiss—that incredible kiss that Dani wished she could forget.
    But she couldn’t.
    “C’mon, Dani. It can’t be
that
bad.”
    The best thing to do was just spit it out. “There’s no kitchen in the basement.”
    Nate blinked a few times. “You built an apartment without a kitchen?”
    Dani shook her head. “I wanted to host exchange students. The basement would give them privacy.”
    “So exchange students don’t need a kitchen?”
    “Well, yeah. But—”
    Mischief filled his features. “Pretty damn cruel to bring exchange students all the way over to America and never let them eat.”
    “They’d eat up here. With me. In my kitchen. And the dining room, too.” Great. Now she was babbling. “Look, there’s a sink, a dorm fridge, and a microwave. But that’s it.”
    A few long seconds passed before Nate said, “Then what’s the problem?”
    “What do you mean?” She was having a hard time following how quickly his mind jumped from thought to thought, so she tried to clarify. “If you stay in my basement, you won’t have any place to cook.”
    He gave the kitchen a good, long look as he rubbed his chin. “There’s a sink?”
    She nodded.
    “And a fridge?”
    “A dorm fridge.”
    “There’s a microwave, too?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do they all work?” he asked, the teasing plain in his voice.
    “Of course they work.”
    “Then I’ll be better off than I am now. But there is one thing that would help—one thing you can do to make me feel more at home.”
    *   *   *
    Nate savored the confused expression on Dani’s face.
    She’d sounded so forlorn when she’d admitted her basement didn’t have a full kitchen. He’d been disappointed for a few seconds before he realized that her revelation wasn’t a disaster. There might not be a gourmet kitchen, but a kitchenette would do just fine.
    It also left the door open—hopefully literally—for him to spend