Page 60 of A Touch of Spring Magic

“Don’t remind me.” She leaned on her shovel to catch her breath. She knew she was getting stronger and had more endurance, but Storm always seemed ready to handle more. “Sarah and Meghan are coming by tonight to finalize and try the recipes from the dreaded book.”

“Amore,” he sang out. “Who doesn’t want a little magic in their life?”

She was about to say ‘me,’ but did she really mean it?

“You’re…” She bit back the word barely in time. “This whole experience has been magic,” Jessica said, and that wasn’t a lie, nor was it the full truth.

He stared at her with that quizzical lift of one brow that always made her want to be funnier, cleverer, everything more.

“Close your eyes.”

“Huh?” The thrill of that command blew past a PG rating.

“Close them,” he insisted and playfully wagged his finger at her, and she closed her eyes, thinking it was the last sense she’d like to lose around him.

No, maybe no touching would be worse.

She closed her eyes and felt him move closer. She held her breath, limbs loosening. His closeness was tangible and reminded her of grass and tangerines. Storm lightly laid his hands on her shoulders and angled her differently.

“Okay, open.”

“Oh.” Startled, Jessica caught her breath. She stared at the ring of golden lights woven in the smallish olive trees. “Wowza,” she whispered.

“Too much? I realize we need five or more years of growth for the full effect, so this may be a preview of inspiration but…”

“I love it,” she said. “It’s going to be amazing. The perfect touch.” She turned and hugged him, pressing her cheek against his chest, only instead of it being a quick, hard hug, she was holding on like she was drunk on inspiration. “Thank you, Storm, you’ve really helped me to let go of my linear vision and need for control. The work is now…” She laughed as they both said ‘fun’ at the same time.

She looked into his eyes. She had decent height, but she still had to look up at Storm—his angular jaw, high cheekbones, hint of a five-o’clock shadow at this time of day, full lips that smiled so easily, long nose with a hint of a bump—likely from some childhood athletic endeavor.

The moment sizzled across her skin, and Jessica felt on the brink of something prescient. Without planning, she leaned forward, more weight on her toes.

This is crazy.

But she felt magnetized.

“Jessica.” The ache in his voice lodged in her chest like a punch.

She waited for him to do something—touch her, run his fingers through her hair, kiss her. A shudder ran through him, and he closed his eyes, and the spicy taste of victory surged in her mouth.

Kiss me.

She held her breath, caution forgotten. But nothing happened and when she opened her eyes, he watched her as if something hurt.

“Storm?” She reached out first, her fingers curved to cup his cheek.

What was wrong?

And why do I always wait for the man to make the move?

He caught her hand and pressed it to his chest.

“Jay,” he said, and for the first time, she loved the way the nickname from high school sounded on his lips.

“Yes.”

“You said you wanted to keep this business only. That you wanted to focus on business and preparing for Chloe’s party.”

“Ummmmm, yeah.” Why was he bringing this up now?

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