A Baby for the Boss(32)

Mike stood in the middle of the small living room, glanced at the popcorn and her wineglass and then shifted his gaze to hers. “Movie night?”

She shrugged. “I just wanted to relax, you know. A lot going on right now...”

“Tell me about it.” He sat on the couch, took a handful of popcorn and watched the movie playing out on the screen.

She went to the kitchen to get him that wine, then walked back to the living room and handed him a glass of chardonnay. He took a sip, gestured with the glass toward the TV and asked, “Die Hard?”

She smiled and sat on the other end of the couch. “It’s my feel-good movie. You know, Christmas, good guys beating the bad guys...”

“And lots of stuff blowing up.”

“Exactly.” She grinned and sipped her wine.

“I didn’t know you liked action movies.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“And some I do,” he said, a frown flattening his mouth.

“Or think you do,” she countered. She wasn’t a liar and a thief, and she felt that somewhere inside him, he knew that or he wouldn’t have been sitting on her couch.

“Touché.” He nodded, glanced at the television again. “One guy going against a whole crew.”

“To save his wife,” she said with a satisfied sigh. “It’s romantic.”

He chuckled. “Romance and bombs?”

“Works for me.”

His gaze shifted to the flannel pants she wore. “Darth Vader pajamas?”

She grinned. “They’re cozy.” And were a gift from her uncle Hank, but she doubted he’d want to hear that.

“I don’t know what to think about you, Jenny,” he said.

“Good. I’m glad. That means you’re not entirely sure you should think what you used to think because now you think your thinking might have been wrong.”

He blinked at her, then shook his head. “I actually followed that.”

Turning his head again, he stared at the television. In the flickering light, darkness passed over his features, highlighting the shadows crouched in his eyes.

“Why are you really here, Mike?”

Slowly, he looked back at her. “You know why.”

There was that wild flutter and rush of anticipation moving through her stomach again. She took a swallow of wine to ease her suddenly dust-dry throat, then set the glass on the table in front of her.

Jenny knew exactly what he was talking about. She’d felt it in the office today. Before Sean came in, there had been a slow, simmering burn between Mike and her, and that fire was still there, hot as ever. Acting on it would be a huge mistake. But not acting on it was driving her crazy.

“Yes,” she said softly, holding his gaze with her own. “I know.”

“So the question is,” Mike asked, voice low and deep and intimate, “do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Thank God.” He set his glass down and reached for her.

Pushing the popcorn out of the way, Jenny went into his arms; all the while her mind called out a warning she refused to heed. She didn’t want to be wise. Didn’t want to be smart. She wanted Mike and that just wouldn’t change.

But it was more than that, she admitted silently as Mike’s mouth claimed hers. She leaned into him, opened to him, and felt the heat within build into something that was both wilder and more...steady than anything she’d ever known before.

Her breath caught, as understanding dawned. Her mind spun and she clung to Mike because he was the only steady point in her universe.

She loved Mike Ryan.

Her brain went into overdrive in the span of a single heartbeat. The months of working at Celtic Knot, watching Mike work with young artists, encouraging them. Seeing his dedication to his work, his brother and friend. Knowing that he didn’t trust her, but having him give her the opportunity to work on his hotel in spite of it all.

He didn’t trust her.

Didn’t love her.

There was misery lying in wait, and Jenny knew it. But her whole life had been spent wanting the very feelings that were crashing down around her right now.

So she’d risk the pain to have this one moment—even if Mike never knew what was shining in her heart.





Seven

A few days later, Mike was at his desk when the video chat bell on his phone went off. He hit Answer and his brother’s face appeared on the screen.

“I hate Wyoming.”

Mike laughed. Sean looked haggard, on edge. His eyes were narrowed, whisker stubble covered his jaws and the scowl he wore looked as if it had been permanently etched into his face.

“Don’t hold back, tell me how you really feel.”

“Funny.” Sean glanced over his shoulder, then back into the camera. “It hasn’t stopped snowing since I got here. There’s like three feet of snow piling up out there and it’s still coming down. I don’t think it’ll ever stop.”