Free Wild Fling or a Wedding Ring? by Mira Lyn Kelly Page A

but for some reason he’d been as close to revealing the details to Calias he’d ever gotten with anyone. There was just something about her that made him curious, made him want to talk—made him want more than that. If he examined it long enough, he imagined that that something had a lot to do with the fact that she was a temporary attraction in his life. Nothing quite as safe as a woman who couldn’t even commit herself to a single city, let alone one man, and would most likely be living across the ocean within a few months’ time. He didn’t have to trust her for life, just a few weeks or so. No time for failed expectations or betrayals. No time for anything to get deep enough to regret. He could relax around her, and it felt good.
    Now the dishes had been run through the washer, and they stood in the kitchen, emptying the racks. The last leg.
    Jake pulled out four slender stemmed glasses, still warm from the heat cycle, then slid them into the ironwork rack suspended above the sink. There were a few circular slots reserved for wine bottles. He’d bring over a Santa Margarita he had at his place, and maybe a Fiddlehead too.
    Behind him, Cali was muttering to herself about the shelves. “Salad and dinner plates. Bowls….”
    He grabbed a stack of plates and handed them over, falling into the easy rhythm of working side by side with her as naturally as breathing.
    “Thanks. I love getting this stuff put away.”
    “It looks good in here,” he said, nodding to the half-filled cabinets. Then, taking in the dark circles under her eyes—the ones that hadn’t washed off when he’d brought a damp cloth out for her—he added, “Cali, you need some rest.”
    “I’m too excited to rest.” Then she smiled at him. “So, you know you really are my hero, don’t you?”
    The things she did to his ego. “Finally—some recognition.”
    “We’re done after this one.” Shaking her head with a laugh, she grabbed the last item from the dishwasher. Jake slid theempty racks in, then closed the door, sharing her sense of completion. Leaning a hip against the sink, he turned to her, surprised by the peaceful satisfaction in watching the line of her body extend to house the last dish.
    It was nice—only suddenly it wasn’t.
    His mouth drew down as he recognized the familiar sense of companionable domesticity for what it was. His gut tensed as he tried to ignore the niggling unease settling over him. It was five minutes and didn’t mean anything. Probably nothing more than some kind of emotional muscle memory, wired to sharing space in a kitchen. Nothing a little reprogramming couldn’t handle. Some whipped cream, ripe berries and two days of sweaty sex against every available surface and he’d be able to unload the dishwasher without getting caught up in some rubbish warm, fuzzy contentment trap. Mental note to get on that—ASAP.
    “I need to get a step-stool in here.” Cali went onto her toes with a serving plate in hand.
    Perfect. He focused on the sweet, heart-shaped curve of her bottom, letting his gaze linger at that vee between her legs before moving up to the sexy stretch of bare skin between the hem of a tee-shirt that clung to her curves and the top of her jeans.
    Playtime was over. This was what he wanted.
    “I’ve got it.” Jake’s voice was closer than she’d expected. She turned to find him right behind her. He set one hand at her waist, crowding her, as he took the platter from her grasp and, reaching over her, stowed it in the uppermost cabinet.
    Her fingers gripped the countertop at either side of her hips as Jake lowered his deep blue gaze to hers, smiling that lazy, smooth smile.
    This man had the most beautiful mouth she’d ever seen. And she didn’t have to imagine or guess what those firm,chiseled lips would feel like rubbing against her own. She already knew. Ecstasy.
    Flashes of the phone booth came in quick succession as her back pressed into the counter behind her and her torso