Page 107 of The Runaway Bride of Blossom Branch

“And?”

She stared him down. “I looked at apartments and houses.”

His face darkened. “I see.”

“Oh, come on, Harry. We’ve talked about this. I can’t stay here. I need my independence.”

“Have I tried to clip your wings, Catie-girl?” His tone was snarky.

“Of course not. Let’s not argue. Please. What would you like to do tonight? Do you have more work to finish, or can we watch a movie?”

He reached for her hand and ran his thumb over her pulse. “I thought we might go to bed early.”

Her heart pounded. Eight simple words. She was ready to melt at his feet. “Um...okay.”

They cleaned up the kitchen with almost no conversation at all. Harry pointed out that his housekeeping lady would arrive Thursday afternoon, but Cate couldn’t bear to leave such a mess all night.

When everything was spotless, she dithered. “I guess I should go take a shower.”

Harry lifted her chin with one finger and kissed her lazily. “You haven’t seenmyshower yet.”

It was true. Cate had used her own bathroom every time. She had only gotten as far as Harry’s bed.

He chuckled. “Was my hint too obscure? Or are you feeling shy?”

“You want us to shower together?”

“Couples do,” he said.

Were they a couple? Surely not.She cleared her throat. “Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Now,” he said bluntly. “I’m ready now.”

Her mouth dried. “Oh. Sure. I’ll get my things.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

That sounded like more teasing until she studied his face and his posture. His cheekbones were flushed, and his shoulders were rigid. He had his hands stuffed in his pockets. In that stance, she could see the outline of his erection.

Because she couldn’t think of anything to say, light and funny or otherwise, she escaped to her bedroom. Quickly, she put her hair up in a messy bun, shaved her legs and removed her mascara. There were certain things a woman didn’t want to do during a sexy shower.

She had worn the peach blossom necklace to the museum today. She removed it now and laid it on the dresser along with her watch and earrings.

Wearing the same black satin robe Harry had already seen, she walked down the hall, pretending she wasn’t afraid of the big bad wolf.

When she opened the door to Harry’s suite, she caught him buck naked in the middle of the room. He was beautiful. That was the only way she could think to describe him. If she hadbeena sculptor, she could have immortalized him in stone or metal. Any artist in the world would concede that Prescott Harrington was a striking man.

“I didn’t expect you so soon,” he said.

“Should I leave?”

“What do you think?” His eyes glittered.

While her toes curled into the carpet, Harry took three strides in her direction and scooped her up into his arms.

“How’s your knee?” she asked. It was hard to talk.

He nuzzled her nose with his. “My knee is great. Why do you look like a petrified fawn?”

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