All she’d ever wanted from the man was words. You’re pretty today, Annie. You’re my life, Annie. I love being married to you, Annie.
You’re hot, Annie.
Ha! The man had no words. He was the strong silent type, and she’d known that going in, but criminy. Once in a while, a woman needed more. And now her more was food.
Damn him anyway.
The door opened behind her, and without turning around, she rolled her eyes. “Cameron Wilder, you just ate my entire refrigerator. I’ll call you when I have more food for you to shovel into your mouth.”
“It’s not food I need.”
Nick. She went still, eyes glued to the dough in her hands. She had flour across the front of her, in her hair, and probably, given that she’d just scratched her cheek, all over her face. The man had a knack for seeing her at her worst. “I’m far too busy to deal with you right now.”
“Really?” He wandered into her sight, looking tall and lanky and rangy, and so damned sexy she wanted to chuck the dough at his head.
How unfair was it that when she was working, she looked like shit, and when he worked, he got dirty and rumpled and all the hotter for it?
“Looks like you’re making bread.”
“So?”
“So…” He leaned a hip on the counter and studied her. “You used to like my company when you made bread.”
“I used to like a lot of things.”
“Like me?”
Her heart stopped. She still liked him. She loved him.
“Annie.”
Ah, hell. His voice was low and gruff and terrifyingly gentle. And that’s when she realized he was holding a file.
The divorce papers.
He was going to tell her that he’d finally done what she’d asked and signed them, that the divorce was a good thing. That he wanted it too. Well, fine. She lifted her chin and faced him, flour and all.
His gaze swept down her, definitely noticing, then stopped short on her apron, and suddenly, he burst out laughing.
Having forgotten what this one said, she looked down at herself: I’VE GOT YOUR LOW-CARB DIET RIGHT HERE, PAL…
Below that, there was a black arrow pointing downward, ending right about crotch height. It was inappropriate but pretty much summed up her mood. “If you’re looking for another good laugh, you should know I have no plans to strip naked for your amusement.”
“Annie-”
“And I certainly don’t plan on trying to seduce a man who’s too self-absorbed and stupid to notice a naked woman when he has one right in front of him.”
“Annie.”
God, that voice. “You have the papers,” she whispered.
“Yes.” He tossed the file to the counter and stepped closer.
“I’m covered in flour here, Nick.”
“I know.” He put his hands on her arms and dipped his head a little to look directly into her eyes. “I know because I’m seeing you.”
Her breath caught and she wanted to turn from him rather than give herself away, rather than let him see how much those words meant, because that file on the counter told her it was all too late. “Nick-”
“No, let me get this out, before I can’t.” He took a gulp of air. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been right here. All along, I’ve been right here.”
“I know. And it was my shame that I didn’t get that. That what you wanted wasn’t your freedom from me, but something else entirely. The opposite, really.”
“Yes,” she whispered, feeling her throat tighten. Oh God, he did get it. Now that it was too late. “The papers-”
“I missed you, Annie,” he said again, his voice gruff and thick with emotion. “I miss you in my bed, and in my life. What happened to us?”
“I don’t know. We stopped communicating.”
“Stopped seeing each other,” he said softly, her words.
“Yeah.” She tried to smile. “It got so…out of control.”
“I don’t know how, but yeah.” He cupped her jaw, then smiled at the flour now on his fingers. “And I know you’ve been trying. I was afraid you’d stomp on my heart. But forget the fears, I want another shot. I can make you happy again, Annie, I know it.”
Her heart squeezed hard. She swiped her hands on her apron, but they were still messy and sticky, and she made a sound of frustration when he came in for a hug. “No, don’t. You shouldn’t. Look at me. I’m a mess.”
“I see it. I’m seeing you, Annie. And I don’t care about the mess.”
“Well, you should.” She ran her gaze down him. “You’re actually wearing a clean shirt.”
He smiled at her, his self-deprecatory, crooked smile. “I’m sorry I’ve been so slow and self-absorbed and…”
“Stupid,” she supplied helpfully, trying to control the wild, crazy seed of hope that had taken root within her belly.
“Stupid,” he agreed.
“Yes, well, we’ve both been that.”
“Maybe. I’ve been locked in my own self-misery at the fact that you wanted a divorce. And then you started in on that whole ‘seeing you’ thing, and I didn’t get it. But then you started paying attention to me.”
“I started seeing you,” she whispered.
“Yeah, it took me a while. At first, I didn’t even notice that you were trying to fix things all on your own. But you’re not on your own, Annie. You never were.” He picked up the file and opened it, showing her the signature line, where he hadn’t signed. Then he took her by the hand and led her to the huge great room, where he tossed the entire file into the fireplace. It went up in flames with a little whoosh, and as it did, he pulled her close, touching her face, his thumb grazing over her cheek. “I see you. You’re covered in flour and you’ve never looked more beautiful to me, not even when you were sixteen and smoking hot.”
“Don’t.” Embarrassed, she pushed his hand away. “It’s at least twenty years and twenty pounds. I know I don’t look anywhere close to that cute young thing you seduced in the back of your truck.”
“Is that what this is all about? Your looks?”
“No, of course not.” She shifted uncomfortably under his direct, patient gaze. “Okay, maybe some. It’s ridiculous, I know.”
“Annie, I don’t want you to look the same. We’ve laughed and loved and lived, and how we look reflects that. Every single line on our faces.”
“Yes, but your lines make you look better. You look just as good as you did when you were seventeen and coaxing me into the back of that damn truck.”
He flashed a grin.
“It’s a little annoying, actually.”
“Yeah?” He put his hands on her hips, then bent so that his mouth could nuzzle near her ear. “Well, then, let me try to unannoy you…”
He was doing a damn good job already. Her nipples hardened and her thighs quivered.
“You look good enough to eat,” he whispered against her ear. “Especially with that flour and sugar all over you. I think I’ll start at the top and nibble my way down…”
Her knees wobbled some more. Nearly forty years old and her knees were wobbling. “I thought we were going to…communicate.”
“Uh-huh.” His voice was husky. Like a man completely confident in the knowledge that he was about to get lucky.
And he was. He so was…
“Can you think of a better way to start communicating than with our bodies?” he murmured, his mouth already quite busy.
No. No, she couldn’t. “But it’s the middle of the day.”
“Yeah.” He lifted his head and flashed a wicked smile, the same one that always had her naked in under two minutes.
He reached behind him to latch the kitchen door, eyes flashing with all sorts of erotic ideas. The lock tumbled into place and so did her heart. “Here?” she whispered. “Now?”