Page 73 of The Enemy Face Off

Great.

"Oh, stop denying it, Beth, and tell us already." Amiel leans over the counter. "Where exactly are you and Milo in your enemies-to-lovers journey?"

"I'm guessing second base," Courtland answers for me.

"No. I'm guessing first," she counters, using her close friend advantage and knowledge of my dating history to more accurately predict where things stand with Milo and me.

"I don't know sports, so I have no idea what bases mean," I say with a hand flourish.

It's an obvious lie, and neither one of them buys it. All romance readers—even if they've never watched a second of baseball in their lives—know what the bases mean.

First base is kissing.

Second is touching above the waist.

Third is touching below the waist.

And fourth is…a home run.

Milo and I are firmly in first base territory, even if the kiss after last month's gamealmostveered into second.

Well, actually, it did a little. From my end, not his.

After tucking Jonah in for the second time, he practically sprinted back into the living room to cash in his coupon. We started kissing, and I couldn't resist the urge to run my hands all over his strong, muscular arms.

And shoulders.

And chest.

Milo was definitely into the kiss, but he was a little more restrained than I was. Probably because his kids were asleep in the next room, and if one of them came in at any moment, he wouldn't want them catching their dad in a compromising position.

But I get the feeling that maybe he was holding back for another reason, too. He's a smart guy, and now that he's aware of my dating history, he's probably put two and two together and come to the conclusion that I'm sexually inexperienced.

That could explain why he never oversteps with physical closeness.

And I have to say, I like that.

I like that a lot.

It makes me feel respected. Like he cares about me as a person and doesn't see me as some target or joke orobjectthe way my exes did. And if some jerk made some joke or off-color remark about me, Milo's the kind of guy who'd stand up for me.

Ireallylike that.

"You did go to his hockey game last month," Courtland points out.

I pick up some papers and start shuffling through them. "So?"

"You hate hockey."

"I love hockey romances," I rebut.

"Not the same thing, and all three of us know it."

"What happenedafterthe hockey game is what I'm interested in," Amiel says, her eyes dancing with a playful glimmer. "You've been unusually tight-lipped about what went down when you went back to Milo's hotel."

Courtland's mouth flies open, and I hold up my hand. "It's not what it sounds like." I lower my hand. "Okay. It's a little what it sounds like. Fine. Yes." I let out a defeated breath. "I went backto his hotel room and we made out a little. But I'm being sensible about this and have imposed a strictone kiss per daylimit."

Courtland grins. "Right. Because nothing screamsI have no interest in a guythan coming up with a kiss rule."

---