Page 112 of Doyle

She pressed her hand to her head. “Even for me, that’s... that’s a lot.”

He laughed and stepped over to her. Took off his backpack and let it drop to the ground. Propped his hand above her head on the door, those blue eyes on hers.

She put her hands on his chest, smoothing it. He still wore a little grime on his whiskered chin, a dampness to his jacket, but as he smiled down at her, everything inside her heated, her bones turning to fire inside her.

“You trusted me,” he said softly, his gaze roaming her face.

“I mean...”

“You trusted me.” He touched her cheek with his fingertips, ran his hand under her chin.

“Of course I did,” she said. “You’re my partner.”

He smiled then, shook his head. “Codirector.”

“Whatever.”

Then he leaned down and kissed her. Softly. Perfectly. His mouth gentle, exploring.

But she didn’t want exploring. Not now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him against her.

And kissed him. Really kissed him, with a sort of abandon and freedom and joy and hope that maybe she’d never had with Edward—no, forsurehad never had with her former fiancé. Instead, she’d always reserved a little piece of her heart to hang on to, just in case?—

But Doyle, he was... he was nothing like Edward. Impulsive and fierce, and charming and annoying and devastatingly handsome and capable and...

And hers.Please,hers.

He groaned deep inside and stepped her back, her body against the door, his against hers, both hands moving to hold her neck, his thumbs caressing her face, angling it up so he could deepen his kiss.

Yes,hers.

He tasted of safety and home and the future and that fresh start that he’d talked about, smelled of adventure and tomorrows, and in his kiss, something unlatched inside her.

Fear, maybe.

And peace washed through her. Or joy. Or perhaps just that sense that here, right here, her what-ifs had vanished.

Replaced byyes, yes,and again,yes.

Doyle.

Oh, she loved this man. And that thought didn’t even scare her. Because he loved her back. She felt it, knew it in her soul.

He lifted his head, touched her forehead with his. “See? I told you everything was going to be okay.”

“You did? I don’t remember that part.”

“I did.” He smiled. “On the cliff. Or could have been in the ocean.”

“I just remember a lot of ‘Stop talking’ and ‘Keep swimming’ and?—”

“What if I just thought it?”

She laughed. “Thought it—when?”

“The first day I met you, when you showed up in the four-wheeler, your hair pulled back, all ready to take over the world, or at least Mariposa.”

“You didnotthink that.”

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