dangerous.”
“It could.”
She bent her head and brushed her mouth against his. At the same time, she pulled his hands to her breasts. His fingers immediately found her tight nipples and rubbed them.
Heat flared everywhere before settling between her legs. She couldn’t help rubbing against him again, a little more frantically this time. He inhaled sharply and claimed her with a hot, deep kiss that stole her breath.
She wanted to strip off her clothes and have him touch her everywhere. She wanted him parting her legs and filling her until she had no option but to lose herself in a powerful orgasm that made her scream. She wanted touching and kissing and claiming and—
He drew back and swore. “We have to stop.”
He was right, of course, but still she wanted to protest.
“I want you,” she whispered.
His jaw clenched. “Tell me about it. I want you, too.”
“I’ll talk to Hunter about spending the night with a friend. Maybe this weekend.”
“That would be great. Better than great.”
She smiled and shifted off him. He rose.
“I should be going.”
She stood as well, then glanced at his crotch.
“You’re, um, going to want to walk around a while before going home.”
He looked down at himself, then back at her. “Technically that’s your fault. At least it’s dark out. I wouldn’t want to scare the neighbors.”
“I don’t think they’d be scared. I think they’d be impressed.”
He chuckled, kissed her briefly and walked to the door. “Thanks, Wynn. For all of it.”
“Anytime.”
He left. She locked the front door, then leaned against it and smiled, thinking she felt like a teenager—counting the minutes until the weekend.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WYNN HAD TO admit she was having a good morning. Her sexy make-out session with Garrick had left her smiling, and Hunter had already made plans to spend Saturday night with a friend. She and Garrick would have the house to themselves and plenty of time to take things to the next level. All in all, a happy chain of events.
Her nine o’clock meeting had been successful, with the bride and groom narrowing down her invitation choices to just three. Wynn had ordered the samples, and they’d set up a second meeting to talk about the various options. A local business had ordered postcards for a mailing along with several sets of business cards, and more of Natalie’s special-order paper had arrived.
Wynn did her best to keep her happiness to herself. Being cheerful was one thing, but giddy tended to confuse her employees and frighten the customers. During a brief lull, she busied herself putting up seasonal decorations, including a beautiful menorah, a tabletop Christmas tree, a Kwanzaa flag and her silly plastic Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs set. The latter had been a gift from Ms. James, Wynn’s neighbor when she’d been a kid. Ms. James had always believed in Wynn. Later, when Wynn was a scared and struggling single mom, she would think of Ms. James and vow to make her proud. She brought out the set every holiday season, mostly to try to show her friend that somehow she’d managed to pull it all together.
Wynn got herself a cup of coffee and retreated to her office. She had several orders to proof, then payroll information to send over to her accounting person. She picked up the first flyer and studied the design. After measuring the borders, she carefully read each word to make sure it was spelled correctly. She’d just initialed the sticky note attached to indicate she’d reviewed the design when her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Is this Wynn Beauchene?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, I’m Camilla Henderson. We’re in the process of reviewing Hunter’s Junior ROTC application, and I have a few questions.”
Wynn stared unseeingly at the work on her desk. The caller was unfamiliar, as was the topic. Hunter’s what?
“I’m sorry, but who are you again?”
“I’m Camilla Henderson. I work for the local JROTC director. There are a few items missing from the application. I could get the answers now from you, if it’s a good time.”
“His application to Junior ROTC?”
“Yes.”
What on earth? Hunter hadn’t applied to Junior ROTC. Wynn didn’t even know what that was. They’d never discussed anything like it, and Wynn had never signed any kind of application.
Even as she mentally tried to make sense of it all, a bigger, uglier problem sat down in front of her. There was no way Hunter could have applied to any kind of program without getting a parent’s signature. And if Camilla had an application in her hands, one Wynn didn’t know about, then