hair, wishing that he’d stop looking at her mouth. Even better, she wished he’d do something with her mouth, like kiss it stupid. Their eyes clashed and held, and Tate swallowed, wishing his big, strong arms were around her, that she could taste his breath, count each bristle on his chin. She wanted him to rip her clothes off her, to undo the buttons of his shirt and push the fabric aside so she could touch his chest, explore the hard ridges of his stomach.
“When you look at me like that, it takes every inch of willpower to stop myself from doing exactly what you are asking for.”
Tate touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue. “What am I asking? Bearing in mind that I didn’t say a word.”
“You don’t need to speak. Your eyes say it all. You want to see me naked. And more.”
Tate didn’t bother to play games by denying his very accurate observation. She just met his direct gaze and nodded. “You want to see me naked, too.”
“And do more,” Linc rasped, jamming his hands into the pockets of his pants and rocking on his heels. “A lot more.”
Tate groaned and had to stop herself from flinging herself against his chest and doing what biology was urging them to do. “This is insane!” she muttered. “Do we not have enough to deal with without this crazy thing zinging between us?”
“Seems not.”
“We shouldn’t be attracted to each other!” Tate cried.
“Yet, we are.”
Tate nodded. “But we don’t have to act on it.”
“We did the other night,” Linc pointed out.
“Only because we both thought that I’d be moving on in the morning! I would never have let that go so far if I thought I was staying.”
“Honey, you didn’t even hear Ellie crying. I did.”
Tate glared at him. “I would have. At some point.” She pulled in a long breath and raked her hair back from her face. “Linc, it was a momentary madness. It won’t happen again.”
Linc sent her a hot, frustrated look. “Want to test that theory? I think that once we start, we won’t be able to stop, not again.”
Dammit, how was she supposed to resist him? Tate didn’t know, but her gut told her that she should. Instinctively, she knew that, while sleeping with Linc would be a delightful way to pass the time, the consequences of their actions would be huge. What those consequences were, she couldn’t quite discern, but her instinct was telling her that they would be dire.
Feminine intuition aside, falling into a fling with a hot guy should be the last item on her agenda. She had to look after a little girl who was pining for her mom; she had to find her sister and reconnect mother and daughter. She had a career to return to, places to visit, people to meet.
Living with Linc, sleeping with Linc, would make this situation too intimate, too much like the fairy tales she’d never believed in. He was like this house, stable, solid and rooted. He was Manhattan royalty, successfully established and easily juggling his roles as a brilliant businessman and an excellent single father.
Whereas she was a transient, someone who could pack light but who carried far too much emotional baggage. She ran from relationships, from commitment, from anything and anyone demanding that she dip below the surface.
Her attraction to Linc scared her, but the fact that she liked his mind as much as she liked his body terrified her even more.
It’s imperative you keep your distance, Harper.
Tate bent down and picked Ellie up. “Let’s walk, Linc. Maybe if we get to know each other better, we’ll realize that we don’t, actually, like each other, and this crazy attraction between us will disappear.”
“Here’s hoping,” Linc said, pushing his hands in the pockets of his pants. “But I think we’re kidding ourselves if we think this is going away.”
Dressed in layers, Tate pulled the front door closed and headed outside, wincing as the bitterly cold air burned the back of her throat. She fought the urge to run back into the warm house behind her.
Too much sunshine has made you soft, Harper. Suck it up.
Tate drew level with Linc, concerned that Ellie wasn’t warm enough. She touched her fingers to the baby’s cheek, and Ellie sent her a gummy smile, obviously cozy in the snowsuit that Linc had found in the top of Shaw’s cupboard. Ellie seemed very happy in Linc’s arms, so Tate shoved her bare hands into the pockets of her parka and her chin into the scarf she’d wound around her neck.
Tate felt Linc’s hand on her arm, pulling her left, and she shot him a glance. “Puddle,” he explained and she smiled her thanks. Linc stopped and, with his free hand, pulled his knit hat off his head and thrust it at her. “Your lips are turning blue. Put this on.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re turning into a Popsicle,” Linc muttered as she positioned the hat over her hair, still warm from his head. “Do you want to go back?”
She didn’t. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this cold, but with a little exercise she’d quickly feel warmer. She wanted to walk with Linc, breathe in the snow-tinged air and clear her head.
“I’ll be fine, thanks.” Tate pulled her hands out of her pockets and wiggled her fingers. “But I do need to buy some gloves.”
He grabbed her hand and, winding her fingers through his, tugged it into the pocket of his leather-and-sheepskin jacket. Warmth from his hand flowed into hers, and she sighed as they walked shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk. “Better?”
“Better,” Tate replied. “How’s she doing?”
“Fast asleep.”
Ellie, her curls covered by the hood of her snowsuit, rested her cheek against Linc’s black cashmere scarf, and her deep eyelashes were smudges against her caramel skin. She looked like a doll, Tate thought, lifting her free hand to gently rub the back of her knuckle across Ellie’s cheek. “She’s so beautiful, Linc.”
He nodded, dropping his head to look into Ellie’s face. “She really is,” he said, his voice tender. Tate wondered if any of his employees or business associates knew that the strong, powerful CEO of Ballantyne International could be brought to his knees by a sleeping baby. “It’s cold, Tate. We need to walk.”
Her hand still in his, Tate felt grateful when he shortened his long stride to accommodate her shorter legs. Feeling a lot warmer and almost content, Tate rested her head against Linc’s shoulder and tasted snow in the air.
What would Kari think if she knew that she was walking hand in hand with her ex-lover, the father of her son? Would she care? Would she think it one big joke? Or would she be jealous as hell? Tate recalled that Kari had never liked to share. When she’d moved in with them after her mother’s death, Tate’s room became hers, Tate’s clothes and toys became
