Page 2 of Seven Year Itch

He'd never called her back.

After fleeing Garrett's office, she'd tried to call him, but it had gone straight to voicemail, adding another check mark in the "fishy" column of her mental list. She hadn't bothered leaving a message—what could she say?Hi, honey, I was at your office and you weren't there. Where the heck are you? He would've seen she'd tried to call, and the thought he hadn't bothered to ring her back cut deep.

She felt his presence before she saw him. After all these years, she was aware when he walked into a room, whether she could see him or not. Her spine—following suit with her shoulders—became rigid and her movements jerky. She smashed the lid down on the pot of mashed potatoes she'd been stirring then aggressively flicked the knob on the stove to turn off the flame.

Two strong arms wrapped around her waist, and his face nuzzled her neck, his lips nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. She shuddered and tried to step out of his hold, but she was pinned against the stove.

"How was your day?" he mumbled against her skin.

His hands came up to cup her breasts, and that's where she drew the line. Trapped or not, she was breaking free. She was so not in the mood.

In a complicated move, she ducked, sidestepped, and twisted until she was free from his grip. She marched to the refrigerator, throwing it open.

"That good, huh?" he asked, voice laced with laughter.

She threw him a look over her shoulder. He stood, butt leaning against the counter. He'd removed his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, and had loosened his tie.

Reaching for the butter, she said, "My day wasfine. How was yours?" She grabbed a clean spoon, using her hip to slam the drawer shut with more force than necessary.

"I have a feeling your definition of fine might be a tad different from mine."

"If you think it means showing up at your husband's work to surprise him with lunch only to find he's not there and when you tried to call him, his phone went to voicemail, and he never returned your call, and now you're pissed as fuck? Then yeah, it means the same thing." She banged the spoon against the rim of the pot to dislodge the glob of butter before tossing it in the sink and stirring the potatoes with the wooden spoon.

He gave her his signature sexy smirk. "Yeah, I had a feeling our definitions had two different meanings."

She returned his smirk with a dirty look. "Don't try to be cute. It won't work."

"Do I even need to try?"

Ali gave himthelook. The one reserved for when she was irritated with either him or the kids. He got the memo because his smirk faded, replaced with a look of remorse.

He moved behind her, his arms coming back around her middle. "I'm sorry. My phone died, and I didn't charge it until I was in the car on the way home."

"And you didn't tell me you would be out of the office all afternoon because..." She hated that her voice sounded hurt and whiny.

Garrett placed his chin on her shoulder and nuzzled his nose behind her ear. She felt herself succumbing, but just a little. "Janet was out sick today, so I had to run out and pick up the Johnson contract. Sam Johnson was in the office and invited me to lunch. I couldn't say no. The lunch turned into an unplanned meeting and before I knew it, hours had passed. The good news is, he signed the contract."

Ali melted against him. She was a sucker for the spot right behind her ear, and her sneaky husband knew that. Trying to stay strong, she said, "I'm still mad at you," but her words didn't carry the same heat as they had a few minutes before.

"Which is why I stopped on the way home and picked you up a present."

That got her attention. "What?" she asked still sounding skeptical.

"Nope. You have to give me a proper kiss first."

"What if your present isn't good enough to make up for what you did today? I'm not kissing you until I see it."

His warm breath tickled her ear as he sighed. "Fine. It's in the front pocket of my pants."

Ali couldn't hold back a snort. "No way, mister. You're not getting a free grope out of it, either."

"Hey, a man's gotta try."

She felt him reach into his pocket and a king-sized Kit Kat bar materialized in front of her. "Pretty good on the bribe scale, but I still don't think it makes up for not calling me back."

"Which is why I also got you this." She felt his other hand fiddle in his pocket, and he produced her favorite flavor of lip gloss.

That he'd gone through the trouble of stopping at the store to buy her favorite things went a long way in soothing her anger.

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