Just Fooling Around(43)

“I hope you’re not hungry,” he continued in that same cheery tone, “’cause I don’t think there’s much left of the kitchen.”

Then he leaned over and kissed her. Soft and lazy, and very unpiglike, and some of the steely walls of her heart started to melt. It was the nicest thing any man had ever said to her on the morning of April 2. Actually, it was the only thing any man had ever said to her on the morning of April 2.

“I suppose you’ll want to get back to the base,” she began cautiously, since this was uncharted ground.

“If you feel up to driving. You seemed sort of skittish before. Or, if the phone’s working, I can call Scott if it’s too much trouble.” Slowly he rose, uncurling his long length, and Devon felt another punch of lust as her gaze drooled over him.

“No. Let me get dressed,” she said, keeping her voice just as light and carefree as his. Carefully she picked her way up the basement stairs, into the remains of her house and sighed.

It was worse than usual, and she wanted to cry. Most of the walls had been blown in, the floor was a collection of dirt, unbreakable glass, drywall and mud. Quietly, Chance came to stand behind her, and to her surprise, he wrapped his arms around her, as if this were some ordinary morning.

“Looks like a tornado came through. I’d like to think it was my earth-shattering sexual prowess, but you don’t look gullible enough to fall for that one.”

Her mouth curved up, and in the face of destruction and desolation, she smiled. She was insured. “A one-house destruction zone is more like it.”

He pressed a kiss against her neck, and against her rear she could feel the thick length of his sexual prowess growing again. “Let me dig out my jeans and stow away the heavy artillery before you think I’m completely uncivilized. Then I’ll help you clean up.”

“You don’t have to,” she told him, stepping away from the warm safety of his arms. She picked up a throw and wrapped it around her. Men never stayed. They never helped, and certainly Chance was more well-mannered than most, but she was a Franklin.

The endings never changed.

The sunlight drifted in from the east, tracing over him, and he was so perfect, so beautiful, so out of her league, but she had a lot of nice memories. It was going to be easier next year. Even alone. She could sit on her couch, eating ice cream until the power blew, and remember the one perfect night with Chance Cooper.

Quickly she wiped at her eye and sniffed. “There’s a lot of dust in the air.”

His lazy grin was back in place, and he tilted up her chin. “Honey, I know I don’t have to. But this looks like a hell of a lot of work, and unless I get my ass in gear, I’m going to miss my dinner date.”

His dinner date? She swallowed the boulder that was lodged in her throat because that was the April Fools’ joke. Finally, she understood. Despite what he’d told her earlier, he was involved, or married, or engaged. “No, we couldn’t have that.”

She tried to pull away, but he kept her close, and then, adding insult to injury, reached under the plaid blanket and patted her ass. “I hope you like steak. After last night, I could use the protein.”

His hand lingered, wandered, but Devon was no longer insulted or downhearted. Actually, she was starting to feel…happy. “I like steak, but it’s hard on the heart.”

“Devon, there’s nothing harder on the heart than you are. I’ll take my chances with steak.”

Devon couldn’t help it. She kissed him.

“So are you this much fun on April 2?” he asked, a long moment later.

“Not nearly.”

He blew out a relieved whistle, and his glinting silvery eyes made her quiver all over again. She could see this might be an ongoing problem.

“I gotta tell you, that’s a real relief. I know I told you I do my best work under pressure, but I underestimated the full extent of your libido. I couldn’t do this every day.” His fingers trailed down her spine, the completely unneeded throw falling to the floor.

“Every other day of the year, I’m actually very boring,” she told him quite primly. As primly as a naked woman could.

He looked her over, once, twice, and took her back into his arms. “Boring? You? Not a chance.”

“You’re okay with this? It’s my life. Actually, it’s my entire family’s life. It’s this curse. Once a year, things just go bad.”

He pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Not so bad. In fact, some parts of last evening were so exponentially-not-that-bad the word curse just seems wrong.”

She didn’t understand. She kept throwing him these opportunities to leave, but he acted as if he wasn’t going anywhere. “You’re willing to go through this again? In the future?”