Page 13 of Imagine Me and You

“No. Really. It reminds of me of how things were. I mean, the good things. Because Lord knows there was a bunch of crap. But...there was good. And you were a huge part of that.”

“Thanks. You too. For me, I mean.”

“Tomorrow we should have cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise,” he said.

“I’ll pack them for lunch. I really do want to follow you around while you work for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m proud of you. Of what you have here.”

“I had help getting it.”

“And you were smart enough to take help. You should be proud of that too. Neither of us had anything growing up. I had whatever tiny apartment my mom could get us into. Whatever food we could cook on a little individual burner in one pan. And hey, sometimes we just lived in cars. And then there was your house...”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve come a long way, baby,” she said.

“I know.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing how things have changed since the last time I did an extensive tour. Normally I just come sit on your couch.”

His whole face changed. Pride. Contentment. Oh, she loved to see all that there. He deserved it. “You’ll love it. I’m experimenting with the best time of year to calve. These babies were born in October.”

“And they’re probably mad at you since you stole their testosterone.”

“That’s how it works,” he said.

“You wouldn’t be so cavalier if it was your testosterone we were talking about.”

“Are you acknowledging I have it?”

“What? Naturally. Your chest hair doesn’t come from your rampant estrogen, and I know about your chest hair since I tried to make a pancake on it yesterday.”

“You did.”

“Thought maybe I could cook it on your skin. ’Cuz you’re so hot.”

“Ha ha.”

“See? I acknowledge your...” The light in his eyes changed and her sentence died on her lips. He looked so intense, so focused for a moment that she thought he might...that he might be intending to...

And now he was staring at her lips.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

No. No, no, no.

Her inner hedonist and her inner doomsday prophet were locked in an epic battle. One thrilled about the potential for a kiss. The other screeching about it bringing about the end of days. And unfortunately, the little bitch with the sandwich board was right. It was a recipe for doom. Dooooom.

“Your testosterone,” she finished, kicking her brain into gear and taking a step back from him. “It is in full working order. Beer andDie HardTwo! Let’s do this thing.”

She stalked into the living room, her heart beating so hard her pulse echoed in her temple. This time, it was all Jace’s fault. He couldn’t look at her like that and expect her to maintain sanity and purity of thought. She was on a two-year sex hiatus. And he was hot.

And she was a red-blooded woman with urges and needs. Urges and needs that were going to have to calm the hell down because she was not, under any circumstances, going to kiss Jace Colter.

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