Page 32 of Just Home for the Holidays
Any requested additions?
Butter? Jam? Walnuts?
Chocolate sauce? Whipped cream?
That provoked a silence so long that he wondered whether she’d reply at all. He had time to kick himself for trashing a good thing when her reply came through.
I read a book where he used cinnamon and butter.
I’ve always been curious.
Hunter exhaled with relief.
I’ll make a note.
Walnuts? Raisins?
She answered immediately.
Walnut halves.
Tongue and lips and teeth.
And slowly, very, VERY slowly.
Hunter had a very clear and completely distracting image of Chloe in that room with morning sunlight, that cup of coffee cooling on the side table as he feasted on her.
Oh yeah.
There wasn’t going to be any room in his dreams for nightmares from the past, not tonight.
He prompted her to continue.
And then?
Her answer came immediately.
What about the secret?
Hunter grinned as he replied.
No luck. You stink at sexting. Too wordy.
Maybe you have a future as a novelist.
But please, go on. Practice makes perfect.
To his relief, she did. Chloe went on and on, and Hunter didn’t want her to stop.
She was taking it to the next level, and he could play that game. As he read, he planned for the next evening’s festivities.
Because surprising Chloe Richardson was proving to be very addictive.
* * *
Chloe had totally underestimatedthe fun of sending explicit emails to Hunter. It was possible—no, likely—that she’d admitted too much, but it had been exciting.
In the morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about what she’d confessed and how he’d replied. She was accused of daydreaming more than once as she and Mandy took the girls to the Columbus Circle market. She found herself looking for Hunter, even knowing that he had no plans to join them that day. She drifted past the holiday windows at the department stores, imagining that her fantasy actually came true. It was when they got back to her mom’s for an early dinner before changing for the fundraiser that she realized she hadn’t heard from Hunter all day.
