Page 18 of Say Yes

GAVIN’S PLAN WAS MOVING along rather smoothly. All he needed now were a few ground rules. He had to get Sara to commit, somehow, even if for a short while. He’d work on extending that time as they went along, teaching her to trust him, to trust her own feelings again, and eventually, she would be his. Only his.

It would have to be a unique role reversal, but he planned to hold out on her. She wanted him, that much was obvious. Not as much as he wanted her, which was impossible given his constant state of arousal. But he was more determined, and therefore it stood to reason he could control his reactions better. At least, he hoped he could. He prayed he could. Damn, could he?

It wouldn’t be easy. It would be his greatest challenge. More so than building an expansive house, more than doing a renovation, more than…

He grinned, thinking he had likened himself to a superhero, ready to leap tall buildings to rescue his lady-fair—by withholding sex. Actually, leaping a building might be easier than holding out on Sara.

She wasn’t a woman who inspired higher levels of celibacy. Not when she went all soft and warm and willing every time he touched her.

But he wouldn’t let her use him.

He chuckled out loud, pondering his course of action. He’d force her to be a gentlewoman and do the honorable thing, namely marriage. Teasing her would be fun, and a type of stratospheric sensual torture, because teasing her meant teasing himself and he was already on the ragged edge of lust. But with the promise of success, he could take it.

Hopefully Sara couldn’t.

He had breakfast ready when she wandered in, looking refreshed and in control. Her cutoffs matched his own, but she wore a pastel T-shirt, where he opted to remain shirtless. He hadn’t missed her fascination with his chest, and while he’d always been aware of the attention from other women, it hadn’t mattered to him nearly as much as Sara’s appreciation. He knew if she hadn’t liked him as a man, she wouldn’t have given his body more than a single, cursory glance. But she did like him, and she did a lot of gawking, not just glancing. So if flaunting his body would help capture Sara, he’d flaunt away without an ounce of remorse.

“Feeling better now?”

She gave him a wary look, then nodded. He was pleased to see she was still uncertain how to deal with him. As long as he kept her off center his odds of success were improved. She didn’t want marriage, so he was going to have to sneak it in on her.

“Breakfast smells good.”

“Then your appetite has returned. I’m glad. You never did eat your sandwich last night.”

When she looked puzzled, he decided to be benevolent and explain. “You fell asleep. I carried you to bed.”

Her eyes widened. “Then…?”

“Nothing happened, Sara. Is that what you’re wondering about?” He tried for a look of masculine affront. “I told you I behaved myself, though I swear it wasn’t easy.”

He loved how she blushed. Looking down to avoid his gaze, she pushed her hair behind her ears and fidgeted. Gavin waited, fighting to keep his amusement hidden.

“Last night is…something of a blur. At least parts of it are. Some things I remember clear as a bell, but others…” She hesitated, then forged on. “I have no memory of asking you to move in. None at all.”

Guilt swamped him. She looked too confused, vulnerable, too. He considered confessing, maybe giving her some partial truths that would reassure her, when she shook her head.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be glad to have you.”

Gavin felt his lips twitch, along with his heart and other numerous, masculine parts of his body. “Have me?”

Her eyes flared, and she stammered, “That is, I mean, I’ll be glad to have you here.”

He raised one brow, his skeptical gaze going to the kitchen tabletop.

“I don’t mean have you, have you, I mean…You could come here…”

He opened his mouth but she quickly cut him off.

“No! I don’t mean…” Slapping a hand to her forehead, she said, “I’d…I’d like you to move in.”

He never said a word, giving her the chance to state her intentions outright. She had to make the ultimate decisions of what and who she wanted.

“It will have to be a complete partnership. I’ll continue with the house payment myself. The rest of the bills we’ll divide down the middle, even the groceries. And we’ll have to share all the chores.” Then she seemed to consider that. “Although, if you really do know how to cook, maybe we could work out a deal. I wouldn’t mind doing the grocery shopping and cleaning up the kitchen if you’d fix the meals. It’s the truth, I’m an awful cook.”

“No problem. When I can’t cook, we’ll order in or dine out. What do you say?”

She looked suspicious again, so he tried a very sincere smile, which only deepened her frown. “That’s fine, I guess, but there are a few more things we need to iron out.”

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