Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(78)

Plus, I was tired. If or when things escalated, I didn’t want sloppy one-hour jet-lag shagging. I wanted sports drinks and carbohydrates at the ready for a fuckathon of twelve to seventeen hours, with a warm up and cool down period. And a hot tub.

I softened the kiss, reluctantly loosening my hold so I could lean away.

“Hey, Kit-Kat.” I struggled to keep my voice steady, keep my eyes on hers, and keep the raging hard-on in my pants from unduly influencing my next two or three decisions.

Her chin still tilted upward, her eyes still closed, she said, “Hey, Dan the Security Man.” The words were still slightly slurred, and this time I heard how sleepy she was in the sloppy way she said security, too many syllables.

I lifted an eyebrow at her. “You okay?”

Her eyelashes fluttered open and she stared at me, her lips parted. “Uh . . . just a little tired.”

“Hmm.” Unable to help myself, I pressed my lips to hers one more time before separating our bodies, sliding my hands down her arms and raising her knuckles to my mouth for more kisses.

“Thanks for waiting up.” I kissed her right hand. “Did you bake me a cake?” I kissed her left hand.

“Yes. Cake.” She sounded and looked dazed, watching me trail my lips along her fingers.

“Can I have some?”

She nodded, her eyes trained on her wrist where I kissed the soft skin of the inside and then licked it. Kat shivered, releasing an unsteady breath.

I grinned, liking her reaction. I liked how she clearly needed time to gather her wits after waking up. I liked her being here. I’d like it better if I hadn’t tricked her into moving in.

The thought was a wet blanket to the face and the nuts. I sighed, lowering her hand and tugging her to the guest room. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’re going back to sleep.”

Three more steps and then she stopped suddenly, bringing us both to a halt. “What? But you just got home.”

“Yeah. I’m going to sleep, too. After I eat some cake.”

Kat turned, now she was tugging us toward the kitchen and she said through a yawn, “We’ll have some together. You tell me about your trip, we’ll catch up. Then we’ll sleep.”

She sounded better, her words more solid, so I gave in. Allowing her to push me into a dining room chair, she placed a quick kiss on my cheek and then left me, turning to the cupboard. She stood there for a minute, frowning.

“What was I doing?”

“Cake?”

“Yes.” She nodded once, then shook her head. “Yes. Cake. Sorry. Still sleepy.”

Kat pulled plates out of the cupboard, setting them very, very carefully on the counter like she was afraid they would break. The kitchen was illuminated by a single light from above the stove, but it was bright enough that I could see the counters were absolutely spotless. If she’d baked the cake in this kitchen, there was no sign of dirty dishes or pots and pans.

Also, her tank top was blue and so were her itty-bitty shorts.

“How was the flight? Did you get any sleep?” She yawned again.

My stare lifted from her backside and I leaned my elbows on the table, rubbing my eyes. “It was—uh—fine. Got work done. I slept when we left, but not much after that. How was work?”

“Good. The reports I finished last week for my boss—I texted you about them—she wants to share with a potential investor.” Kat set the plates, forks, and a big, round Tupperware container on the table. She turned away again, grabbing two glasses and moving to the water dispenser in the door of the fridge.

“Oh. That’s great. Right?”

Kat grinned at me, like she thought I was cute. “Yes. That’s great. It’s exciting. Well, it’s as exciting as my work gets. It means she was impressed with my work.”

I returned her smile automatically, because there was no way I could see her smile and not return it.

But then, as she finished filling the last glass, she said, “Oh, I’m almost completely moved in. Anything we have in duplicate, like dishes and such, Stan said I could put mine in the basement storage.”

My neck itched (to the surprise of absolutely no one), and holding a smile became impossible after that.

Tell her. Confess.

If I told her now, she might not give me cake.

Daniel, confess.

But . . . cake.

No cake until you confess.

Shit.

“So, uh.” I itched my neck. “I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Kat brought the waters to the table, sitting across from me.

I gathered a deep breath, prepared to spill my guts, but then she opened the Tupperware to reveal a cake.

But not just any cake.

This cake looked like something out of a magazine. The frosting was smooth and burnished, varying shades of dark blue, like the night sky complete with little gleaming dots for stars. In the center of the cake were the words “Welcome Home Dan” in bright green, yellow, and blue surrounded by what looked like fireworks. It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely the most impressive cake I’d ever seen.