Page 174 of Holding On To Good

“Hey,” Urban said as he walked in from the hall, Bella trotting after him. “Have you been here long?”

Her palms were sweating so she set her laptop on the counter. “Uh… no.” She glanced once again at the table but it looked just as cozy and sweet and unnerving as before. “Just got here.”

“Great,” he said with a grin before skimming his gaze over her skinny, light blue cropped pants and floral, peplum tank top. “You look pretty.”

And he leaned in to kiss her.

She stepped back. “Verity,” she whispered, looking around in case his sister decided to appear out of thin air.

“Verity’s at orientation.”

“That’s not until Monday. And her car’s in the driveway.” Yes, she realized she sounded like she was accusing of him of something.

Something sneaky if not downright nefarious.

Of which dinner for two didn’t apply but she was a woman on edge. Had been there, teetering and tottering and fighting for balance, since they started sleeping together two weeks ago.

“Emory’s mom decided to take them early so they could familiarize themselves with Columbus.”

“Oh.” She bit down on her lower lip. “So she won’t be home until…”

“Tuesday night.”

Well, that was a relief.

And a horrible, terrible, unforeseen predicament.

Especially when Urban once again went in for a kiss.

This time she slapped her hands on his chest. “Miles could drop by—”

“He’s working,” Urban grumbled, but he finally, thankfully, eased back. “And before you ask, Toby’s working, too, and not likely to leave Binge on a Saturday night unless death is involved. Eli’s in Texas and unless Silas decides to go MIA, he’s still in California. No one’s going to walk in. It’s just you and me. No one’s going to see us.”

“I thought you wanted to go over the design plans for Lindstrom House.”

“I do.”

She nodded at the table. “Then what’s all this?”

He turned and began slicing a loaf of Italian bread. “Dinner.”

“You didn’t mention you were making dinner.”

“No,” he said, piling the bread onto a plate. “I didn’t.”

She glared at the pan of lasagna. “I could’ve just brought a pizza.”

“I wanted to cook for you.”

Oh, this was bad. This was really, really bad.

Mainly because hearing him say that felt so very, very good.

Damn it. The whole idea behind sleeping with him was so they could both finally get over the pull between them. She’d known she’d never get over her feelings for him, but she’d thought she could at least get past them.

Instead, she was perilously close to becoming addicted to his touch and her feelings for him were not only front and center, they were growing bigger and bigger.

And him being thoughtful and sweet and acting like a real boyfriend only made everything worse.

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