Page 85 of The Runaway Bride of Blossom Branch

She found him in the kitchen wearing briefs but no robe. The sight of Prescott Harrington, mostly nude, standing in front of an open refrigerator, was like staring directly at the sun. After a moment, she had to look away, pretending it took all her attention to walk around the counter and settle into a seat.

“What sounds good?” he asked, perfectly serious.

Dinner was a long time ago. And they had each expended a fair amount of energy. Cate’s stomach growled. “Ice cream sundaes? Do you have the ingredients?”

“I do.” His grin was so lighthearted, it took her breath away. She had never seen that expression on his face. He looked young and happy. Was Cate responsible for the change, or was this version simplyvacationHarry? He handled a huge amount of responsibility in his business. Maybe he had needed time away more than he knew.

Cate was content to sit and watch Harry do his thing. She could have offered to help, but this was more fun.

The man had not a single iota of self-consciousness about his nudity. He heated sauce, fetched bowls and scooped ice cream like he was the expert on a TV cooking show.

At last, he set the treat in front of her. “Eat up,” he said. “I need you to have energy.”

This time she didn’t blush. Progress. She looked at her bowl. “You forgot the whipped cream.”

“Oops. I guess my mind was on other things.”

Was he kidding or serious? She could never tell.

When he squatted to retrieve the red can from the back of a bottom shelf, Cate needed to fan herself. His body radiated power. His masculinity was a palpable force. In another era, he would have been a knight in chain mail setting out to protect the kingdom.

In the twenty-first century, he had to channel all that testosterone into rescuing fleeing brides and creating buildings from scratch.

She watched as Harry checked the expiration date on the bottom of the can. “We’re okay,” he said. “Still a month away.”

“I’m surprised you care. You strike me as a guy who likes to live dangerously.”

He took her teasing seriously. “Maybe in some situations. Not when it comes to food poisoning.”

“Hurry,” she said. “The hot fudge is melting my ice cream.”

Harry’s eyes gleamed with mischief. He sprayed a generous amount on her sundae. Then, before she could react, he leaned over the counter, squirted whipped cream on her mouth and kissed her.

The hard male lips and sticky sweet topping were a staggering combination. His tongue probed hers, offering naughty pleasure. Cate returned the favor by biting his lip and licking up as much of the cream as she could manage.

Harry moaned. Or maybe it was Cate. Why had she ever put the bar between them?

“Cate...” Harry panted. His face was flushed. “How badly do you want that sundae?”

She glanced down at her bowl blankly. At least two-thirds of the ice cream had melted into soup.

Then she looked at Harry. His expression was not hard to read right now. She could see every bit of his hunger and desperation.

“Snacks can wait,” she said.

“Hallelujah.” He dragged her out into the hall and toward his room. “I’ll feed you later, I swear.”

He didn’t pick her up this time. Instead, he stopped in the center of the room—a few feet shy of the bed with the rumpled covers—and undressed her. His big hands removed her lingerie one piece at a time. And after each one, he lingered, touching...stroking.

The room was comfortable, but gooseflesh broke out on Cate’s skin. Harry was breathing hard. His sex was rigid. Still, he gave her his utmost attention and care. As if she were incredibly precious.

Her eyes stung with tears. She didn’t let them fall. Sharing Harry’s bed was her reward for not giving up when life knocked her down. She had no notion of being with him beyond a few days or a few weeks at most.

When you didn’t expect much, you couldn’t be disappointed.

For once, he didn’t pick up on her mood. When she was naked, he pulled her body close to his, running his hands over her back. His hard sex pushed against her abdomen.

Cate reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. “I like having sex with you more than quarreling with you.”

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