man with his share of experience, but he’d never felt anything like what he’d felt in that kiss. If she thought he would blithely walk away from that, she had another think coming.
She scowled at him as he took up a stance beside her, leaning casually back against the counter, ankles crossed, coffee cup in one hand, Twinkie in the other. He half expected her to scoot over to the table and sit down, but she held her ground. Stubborn. Erik fought a smile. He couldn’t remember ever finding stubbornness an attractive trait in a woman. With Lynn it was all but turning him on. He wanted to turn and corral her against the counter as he had the night before and give her agood-morning kiss that would have her thinking about going back to bed—and taking him with her.
He was falling like a rock. He’d known her all of twelve hours and he was feeling as besotted as a teenager. Instead of being disgusted with himself, Erik wanted to laugh. He’d waited a long time to feel this way. It felt pretty good, even though the lady in question was reluctant. He had faith in his ability to win her over. If there was one thing his father had taught him before his death, it was that if he set his mind to it and worked hard enough he could have anything he wanted.
He wanted Lynn Shaw. No question about that, he thought, letting his gaze drift down from her thick, unruly mane, over the delicate features of her face to the small, proud breasts that gave a delightful dimension to her gray Purdue T-shirt. For just a second he indulged himself in the fantasy of lifting the hem of that T-shirt and giving his full attention to those breasts—stroking, teasing, tasting …
“Did you get your fortune cookie?” He glanced at her sideways and took a bite out of his breakfast, forcing the fantasy and the heat it had generated from his mind.
Lynn squeezed her hands around her coffee mug as she watched him lick a fleck of cream filling from the corner of his mouth and cursed herself inwardlyas her nipples tightened and tingled. “Oh, yes,” she replied in a dry tone. “I must be in store for something. Why, just last week I got a letter from Ed McMahon telling me I might have won ten million dollars. Now this. It’s too weird.”
“You don’t believe in fate?”
She thought about that for a long moment, staring across the room at the dented refrigerator. She had seen too many ruined lives, too many heartbreaks. If there was such a creature as fate, it had an exceedingly wide sadistic streak. It was less painful to think that life just happened. Some people screwed up and some people didn’t. Some people grew up to be Erik Gunthers and some led lives like she had led.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”
“I do. I might never have met you if Horizon House hadn’t lost its lease. I’d call that fate.”
Lynn gave a derisive little sniff. “I call it a pain in the butt. You’ve obviously never had to move a houseful of teenage girls plus the accumulated junk from three offices.”
“Pessimist,” he accused with a good-natured chuckle.
She tipped her head, wincing a little at the sudden nip of pain above her eye. “That’s me.”
“Yeah, and you’re a fibber too,” Erik said, turningtoward her. He leaned a hip against the counter and stared down at her, his eyes narrowed in speculation and concern. “You’ve still got that headache. I can see it in your eyes.”
He set his cup aside, popped the last of his Twinkie in his mouth, and wiped his fingers on his shirt. Lynn tried to sidle away as he reached for her, but he caught her with a firm yet gentle hand, turning to trap her between himself and the counter.
“Be still,” he ordered, tawny brows pulling together in consternation. “You’re like a wild horse, shying away from me every time I try to touch you.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to be touched?” she snapped, moving her head from side to side, trying to dodge his hand.
“No,”
She scowled at him as he took up a stance beside her, leaning casually back against the counter, ankles crossed, coffee cup in one hand, Twinkie in the other. He half expected her to scoot over to the table and sit down, but she held her ground. Stubborn. Erik fought a smile. He couldn’t remember ever finding stubbornness an attractive trait in a woman. With Lynn it was all but turning him on. He wanted to turn and corral her against the counter as he had the night before and give her agood-morning kiss that would have her thinking about going back to bed—and taking him with her.
He was falling like a rock. He’d known her all of twelve hours and he was feeling as besotted as a teenager. Instead of being disgusted with himself, Erik wanted to laugh. He’d waited a long time to feel this way. It felt pretty good, even though the lady in question was reluctant. He had faith in his ability to win her over. If there was one thing his father had taught him before his death, it was that if he set his mind to it and worked hard enough he could have anything he wanted.
He wanted Lynn Shaw. No question about that, he thought, letting his gaze drift down from her thick, unruly mane, over the delicate features of her face to the small, proud breasts that gave a delightful dimension to her gray Purdue T-shirt. For just a second he indulged himself in the fantasy of lifting the hem of that T-shirt and giving his full attention to those breasts—stroking, teasing, tasting …
“Did you get your fortune cookie?” He glanced at her sideways and took a bite out of his breakfast, forcing the fantasy and the heat it had generated from his mind.
Lynn squeezed her hands around her coffee mug as she watched him lick a fleck of cream filling from the corner of his mouth and cursed herself inwardlyas her nipples tightened and tingled. “Oh, yes,” she replied in a dry tone. “I must be in store for something. Why, just last week I got a letter from Ed McMahon telling me I might have won ten million dollars. Now this. It’s too weird.”
“You don’t believe in fate?”
She thought about that for a long moment, staring across the room at the dented refrigerator. She had seen too many ruined lives, too many heartbreaks. If there was such a creature as fate, it had an exceedingly wide sadistic streak. It was less painful to think that life just happened. Some people screwed up and some people didn’t. Some people grew up to be Erik Gunthers and some led lives like she had led.
“No,” she whispered. “I don’t.”
“I do. I might never have met you if Horizon House hadn’t lost its lease. I’d call that fate.”
Lynn gave a derisive little sniff. “I call it a pain in the butt. You’ve obviously never had to move a houseful of teenage girls plus the accumulated junk from three offices.”
“Pessimist,” he accused with a good-natured chuckle.
She tipped her head, wincing a little at the sudden nip of pain above her eye. “That’s me.”
“Yeah, and you’re a fibber too,” Erik said, turningtoward her. He leaned a hip against the counter and stared down at her, his eyes narrowed in speculation and concern. “You’ve still got that headache. I can see it in your eyes.”
He set his cup aside, popped the last of his Twinkie in his mouth, and wiped his fingers on his shirt. Lynn tried to sidle away as he reached for her, but he caught her with a firm yet gentle hand, turning to trap her between himself and the counter.
“Be still,” he ordered, tawny brows pulling together in consternation. “You’re like a wild horse, shying away from me every time I try to touch you.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to be touched?” she snapped, moving her head from side to side, trying to dodge his hand.
“No,”
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