the question. Cecilia grabbed the box of eggs from the fridge.
"Thinking about all those orgasms?" a deep voice said from the doorway.
Cecilia rolled her eyes, smile widening. "It just never stops, does it?" And why should it when he looked so damned delicious lounging barefoot in the doorway with his jeans slung low over his hips, chest bare. She zeroed in on the treasure line of dark hair that disappeared into his pants, adding that to her list of places to lick.
His eyes slowly raked over her, lingering in all the right places. "Thinking about last night?" he teased, the corner of his mouth hitching up.
"As if," she sassed back, unable to keep her own mouth from mirroring his. "Coffee mugs are in the cupboard right above the pot," she said, turning on the stove. "Cream's in the fridge, if you like."
"Black for me." He filled his mug, then came to stand next to her, leaning one hip on the counter. "You've been busy."
Cecilia's face heated. "I was inspired."
"Ah... something to do with last night?"
His voice warmed her insides in all the right ways. She shook her head with another eye roll. "Okay, maybe. But don't let it go to your head."
"Never," he answered solemnly, but with a sparkle in his eye. "Can I help?"
"Sure. There's a jar of green chile in the cupboard. I don't have potatoes, so it's pancakes this morning instead."
"Green chile pancakes?"
"No, silly. Cheesy green chile eggs, pancakes and bacon." She ladled the batter onto the cast iron griddle.
"So what's going on in the other room?"
"In the living room? Just a project I'm doing for my mom and grandma. My mom always wanted to fix the room and never had time. And since I'm home, I thought why not?"
"Why don't you hire someone to do it?"
Cecilia flipped the pancakes and poured the eggs into a separate pan. "You're kidding, right?"
"No?" He looked so confused it was comical. "Why would I be?"
"Okay, sure." She waved a hand. "I'll just head down to Main and pop into that cute interior decorator's shop," she retorted with more than a little sarcasm. She flipped the pancakes onto the plates she'd set out then glanced over, biting back a frustrated laugh. His face was utterly blank. "There isn't one, Trace. In case you haven't noticed, we're on the edge of civilization. Not like-" She cocked her head. "Where are you from, exactly?"
Trace froze, his eyes going wide, a guilty expression briefly stealing across his face. "Uhh... Southern California?"
What the fuckity fuck? Warning bells sounded. Was he playing her after all? "Uhh, you don't know?"
He flashed her a smile, the odd expression gone. "I've moved around a lot."
She couldn't help it. The journalist in her kicked into high gear. "So where'd you live last?"
Again, the merest flicker of panic, but there and gone so fast she had to have imagined it. "Most recently, Malibu."
"Mmm, fancy." Sometimes the best way to get information wasn't to grill, but to make small talk. Even though she hated it in her personal life.
He grimaced and shrugged. "Overly pretentious is more like it."
"Is that why you left?"
"Yeah. You could say that."
"Will you go back there when you're done here?" That was as much journalistic curiosity as it was personal. Part of her hated to think of him leaving.
Trace eyed her, jaw tight like he was debating telling her something. "D'you ever feel like you don't belong someplace?"
Cecilia turned back to the stove, giving the scrambled eggs a final stir, then adding the green chile. "Sure," she said, reaching for the shredded cheese. "Most everywhere." Come to think of it, the only place she'd ever felt truly at home was right here. This house was her haven, her lighthouse in a storm.
"So I sold my house before I left."
She risked a glance over her shoulder. "Because you didn't belong?"
"Something like that. It was time for a fresh start." His face twisted bitterly.
"What is it? What happened?"
Trace came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms across her waist, and kissing the base of her neck. His beard tickled the sensitive spot below her ear, setting off a telling cascade of goosebumps. "Have dinner with me this week, and I'll spill my guts."
"Why not spill your guts over breakfast?" She spooned the eggs onto their plates, then set three pieces of bacon on top.
His mouth was warm against her skin, unfurling a lick of desire that shot straight to her center. "Because I don't want to ruin this perfect breakfast