shed. “All those need to go.”
“Whose honeymoon? Is there something you’re not telling us? Are you seeing someone, Emma?” She picked up an ancient rake with rusted tines and a broken handle. “I’ve seen some very attractive silver foxes around town, behind those long-ass beards.”
“I’m never getting married again, but some of us are still young.” Emma’s knowing glance made Kate stop in her tracks.
“Okay, let’s just clear this up once and for all. Even if Darius and I get something going, neither of us is looking at marriage. You know me, I’m as cynical as they come.”
Emma snorted, as if none of those words meant anything to her. “You go ahead and try to fool yourself, if you want. You can’t fool me. I’m a thousand years old.”
“You’re only eight-two, and you’re in for a shit-ton of disappointment if you think Darius and I are headed for a honeymoon. I just don’t want you crying in your oatmeal over us.”
“You worry about yourself, not me.” Emma scolded her. “And those revolting Pop-Tarts you call breakfast.”
“I call them a pre-breakfast snack, and I could say the same to you.” Still arguing, they carried armfuls of tools to the Ford, passing the two kids on their way. “Worry about your own honeymoon, not my hypothetical, never-gonna-happen one. Besides, Darius has already been married twice and he has nothing good to say about it. At all.”
A clattering sound made her jump; Dylan had dropped one of the paint cans he was carrying. He looked stricken, almost pale.
“Don’t worry, they like to bicker,” S.G. reassured the boy. “It’s okay.” She bent to pick up the paint can for him.
Kate silently scolded herself. Why did her mouth always run away with her? She should set a better example for the next generation. “Just so you kids know, even though we do occasionally argue, I would do anything in the world for this woman. And she would do the same for me.”
“Except go on a honeymoon,” Emma grumbled.
“True.” Kate grinned and hugged her grandmother with her free arm. “I have my limits.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Kate got back home, she found a note from Darius on her door.
We have to talk.
Worst phrase in the English language. All it did was inspire dread. Instantly in a bad mood, she crumpled the note and tossed it away. The time she’d spent with Darius in LA had sparked a fire in her—and left her wanting so much more. Was he about to put a stop to it before they went any further?
What else had she expected? She was the cynical one, after all. She was Team Sex, the one who didn’t believe in relationships that went anywhere. She’d just lectured her grandmother about that very thing.
And yet…damn.
She reached the living room and glared at the Kama Sutra rug. “Don’t tease me, you.”
“Talking to the furniture again?” Darius’ deep voice resonated across her skin, along her nerve endings.
She spun around and as soon as she met his silvery eyes, all her worries drained away. That was not the face of a man who wanted to slow things down. It was the face of a man who wanted to take her right then and there, up against a wall, on a rug, wherever, whenever.
“Hi.” Already a little breathless. Great.
“You left the door open. You really shouldn’t do that.” He advanced toward her, a frown gathering on his forehead.
“So true. Any old riff-raff could just walk right in.” She stood her ground as he reached her. Her pulse was already racing.
“Did you get my note? I have to talk to you.” His expression said the opposite, that talking was the very last thing he wanted to do.
And there went her nipples. Already perking. Jeez. She had zero self-control around this man.
He stopped about six inches from her. She closed the gap so the front of her body brushed against his. A hot shudder of lust gripped her, so intense she clenched her fists to hold it back.
His eyes darkened to a deep charcoal. “You’re making it hard.”
“Hmm, you don’t say.”
She moved her hips from side to side in search of the bulge she could already imagine.
“That’s not what I mean.” He gave a soft groan. “And now you’re making it even harder. Still not what I mean.”
“And yet…” There it was, the swell of his erection against her lower belly. She traced its outline with eager fingers. So hard and large. Pure masculine heat.
He gripped her forearm and thrust her hand away. “Do