Hunter stepped forward. âOne night. No history. No interruptions. Just me and you.â
âA date?â Her question was a whisper.
His hand reached up, gently grasping one of her curls. Something about the way he caressed her hair made her ache for his touch. âWhat do you say, Jo?â His eyes met hers. Blazing, electric, the pull almost physical. He released the curl, placing his big hands on either side of her head.
She blew out a shaky breath, unable to hide the effect he was having on her. His mouth was so close, his breath caressing her skin. His gaze explored her face, slow and intense. She tilted her head to him, an unmistakable invitation. Her heart kicked into overdrive as he leaned forward. She closed her eyes, waiting, ready, willing, bursting.
His forehead rested against hers.
âIâm not going to kiss you until you say yes,â he rasped.
Her eyes popped open. âYes,â she answered quickly, too quickly. Not that there was any point in denying what was happening. They both felt it, they both wanted it.
He smiled and stepped away from her. âIâll pick you up at seven oâclock.â
To the women who cheer me on and keep me writing: Allison Collins, Joni Hahn, Jolene Navarro, Storm Navarro and Marilyn Tucker.
Pamela Hopkins, thank you for being the best agent a gal could wish for. Your belief in me means the world.
To my generous and funny editor, Johanna Raisanen. Iâm so very proud to be a Mills & Boon author. Thank you for making this experience a dream come true!
And to my amazing familyâyou make every day special.
Chapter One
Sheâd know that butt anywhere. Hunter Boone.
Damn it.
In eleven years, his derriere hadnât changed much. Lean hips and a tight butt hugged by work-faded Wrangler blue jeans. And, apparently, the view still managed to take her breath away. Which was unfortunate because sheâd come home believing he couldnât affect her anymoreânot even a little bit. She had been 110 percent confident that Hunter was out of her system. She was so wrong.
Her hands tightened on the tray she held and her lungs emptied as a memory of the way that rear felt under her hands...
She sighed, completely trapped.
This was not the reaction sheâd expected after so long. Or the way she wanted to see him again. It...it pissed her off.
This isnât fair.
âNeed some help with that, Josie?â Her fatherâs voice made her wince.
She was hiding, clutching a tray of her dadâs famous German breakfast kolaches and Danish, and crouching behind the display counter. Why was sheâa rational, professional womanâducking behind a bakery counter? Because heâd walked in and thrown her confidence in her faceâa face whose forehead was currently streaked with flour and sugar and who knew what else.
There was no doubt her fatherâs amused question had made all eyes in Popâs Bakery turn toward her. All eyes, even the very dazzling blue-green ones she was trying so desperately to avoid. There wasnât much to do about it now.
She shot her father a look as she said, âNope, thanks, Dad. Iâve got it.â
Her father winked, looking downright giddy. Heâd known exactly what he was doing, and, knowing him, he could hardly wait to see what happened next.
Taking a deep breath, she stood slowly and slid the tray of breakfast goods into the display cabinet with intentional care. She refused to look at anything except the pastries. Or the stuffed deer head over the front door. That always made her smileânot that she was a fan of taxidermy. But her father insisted on decorating it for the seasons. It wore a red Santa hat. Ornaments dangled off its antlers, which were finished off with some tinsel and blinking twinkly Christmas lights. Only in Stonewall Crossing, Texas.
âI couldnât tell,â her father continued. âYou were all bent over, trying to balance that tray.â
Josieâs cheeks felt warm, but she wasnât about to admit sheâd been hiding. âAll good.â
âJosie? Josie Stephens?â a high-pitched voice asked. âOh, my God, look at you. Why, you havenât changed since high school.â
Josie glanced over the display case at the woman speaking. Josie couldnât place her, so she smiled and said, âThanks. You, too.â