“You mean someday after I’m dead? That’s how it works, right?”
Grinning, Nick walked toward her. He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “In your case, I certainly hope not.” Impulsively, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. When she didn’t step away, he moved his arm to her back, and his lips found hers. She rested her hands on his chest, and he thought she must be able to feel his heart pounding like crazy.
Pulling back, he pushed a strand of hair away from her face and looked deeply into her eyes to gauge her reaction. He wanted to know if she felt the same spark. He wasn’t disappointed. Her full lips were slightly parted, and a soft light shone in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that all week,” he murmured.
“And I’ve been wondering what that beard would feel like,” she told him.
“Not too scratchy?”
“No.”
“Good.” He tipped her chin and went back for seconds, deepening the kiss. A long moment later, he lifted his head, feeling slightly dazed.
She ran a hand down his arm and sent him a sweet smile before turning toward the kitchen.
He followed behind. The small kitchen was clean and simple with white countertops and cupboards. A wire bowl of lemons added color to the table, and two whimsical prints of lemons and grapefruit hung above the sink. The bright and cheery atmosphere was exactly what he expected. Talent and personality—an intoxicating combination.
Kat’s face warmed. She’d been a little more honest than she intended—might as well have said she’d been mooning over him. “What would you like to drink?” she called over her shoulder, trying to regain some composure. “I think I’ll have a cup of tea. I have beer or wine. Or I could make some coffee.”
“Coffee would be great, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course not. How do you take it?”
“Black and strong.”
“I could add some Bailey’s Irish Cream or hazelnut liqueur.” She sometimes added the hazelnut to her chai tea for a nice warm drink to help her wind down.
“Thanks, but I’d better stick with the basic stuff.”
“Coming right up. Why don’t you have a seat?”
Instead, he perched against the square table that separated the kitchen area from the living space. “I’m good here.”
She finished preparing the coffee and leaned against the sink, facing him.
He nodded toward the other room where her naked easel stood in the corner. “Is this where all the masterpieces come together?”
“No. I paint here sometimes, but I have a studio space with some other people in an old warehouse not far from here.”
“Nice. I’d love to see it sometime.”
Meaning he’d be in the city again? She couldn’t help asking. “Are you in New York often?”
His gaze rested on her during the awkward pause that followed her question.
“Not usually,” he said, finally.
An interestingly vague answer. As the coffee machine gurgled and hiccupped to signal the brew was ready, Kat reached for a mug. She poured a cup and handed it to him.
Nick took the heavy hand-spun mug then settled onto the sofa.
Kat hesitated a beat before taking the seat beside him. Kicking off her boots, she curled up and tucked her feet underneath her. “What about you? Tell me about your place.”
“It used to be a garage. Now it’s a small apartment-studio combo. Nothing fancy.”
“But convenient.”
He chuckled. “Most of the time. But it can make it hard to get a break, too. The workspace is always there ready to kick my butt if I slack off.”
