Jaime turned, saw a petite brunette had strode in, a laptop bag on her shoulder. She wore a black business suit and a tired expression. And for all his talk of negotiating power, Jake immediately crossed over to her and took her bag, cupping the side of her neck.
“Hi, baby,” he murmured, kissing her lightly. “Work go okay?”
She nodded. “Fine. Now what’s this about my eyes?”
“Jake said—”
Jake picked up a dish towel and chucked it at Kate, the floral-patterned cotton landing on her face with a quiet swoosh.
“Hey!” she exclaimed, yanking it off. “You—”
“Dinner time!” Marabelle called, interrupting the argument before it could really get going, in one of those quintessential Mom ways that told him all he needed to know about her parenting style.
She’d been there, been involved.
As thus, the kids—or well, adults—stopped arguing and got into gear, grabbing plates and napkins, side dishes, and a platter from the counter and carrying them into the dining room.
Ann appeared at his elbow, eyes slightly reddened, but a determined expression on her face, and he gently transferred Lacy into her arms. “She took the bottle?” she asked, surprise flitting across her face.
“Like a champ,” he murmured.
She glanced up at her husband, and they shared a look that said more than words. Then he nodded and glanced over at Jaime. “Hi,” he said. “Dave. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” Jaime said and nodded at Lacy. “She’s adorable.”
Ann smiled and ran a finger down her daughter’s nose. “Thanks for feeding her.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Babies are exhausting, and I figured you two could use a break. Thankfully, Kate got me set up with the bottle.”
Kate came up to him, getting close, and instinct had him wrapping his arm around her, tugging her to his side. “Jaime bottle-fed kittens last spring,” she said then added in a stage-whispered, “and he promised me a rooster.”
Two pairs of wide eyes on him and all he could do was chuckle.
“I don’t know if it was quite a promise,” he prevaricated.
“Told you,” Jake said with a sigh. “You’ve lost that negotiating power and—”
This time, Steph was the one who tossed the dish towel. And with perfect accuracy, he might add. It landed across Jake’s face, muffling anything further he might have said, and then as though it were something she’d done a hundred times before, she turned to Jaime, stuck her hand out, and said, “Hi, I’m Steph. Welcome to the crazy.”
He grinned as he shook it. “Jaime. And I have to say, the crazy is more than welcome.”
Marabelle snagged his elbow, lacing her arm through his. “I’m glad you say that because—”
“Mom,” Kate said.
“I was wondering—”
“Mom,” Kate repeated.
“—if you’d like to see Kate’s baby pictures,” Marabelle finished, not acknowledging Kate’s groan, continuing to talk as though her daughter hadn’t said a word. “I have this great shot of her naked in the tub and—”
“Mom!”
She winked, released his arm, and began shepherding them into the dining room.
“I’m kidding about the naked tub picture,” Marabelle added.
Kate sighed, and he stifled a smile.
“Because I have a naked spaghetti picture that’s so much better.”
Jaime couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. Kate smacked him, grabbed his arm, dragging him to a halt in the hall, and gasping in outrage.
“Don’t you dare laugh!”
Then there was another thing he couldn’t help, and that was turning and brushing his fingers over Kate’s cheek, bending down to drop a kiss to her lips that was semi-chaste. Chaste because there was no tongue, but semi because it probably went on longer than it should have, considering they were in her parents’ house and he’d met them all of an hour before.
But she was like a drug.
One touch, and he wanted more. One kiss, and he wanted to run his lips over every inch of her body.
One night, and he wanted an eternity.
The sound of a throat clearing had Jaime slowing the kiss. He dropped his forehead against hers, his breath coming in short bursts and whispered, “Sorry.”
Warm whiskey eyes on his. “For what?”
“That wasn’t exactly what I planned.”
A heated smile. “Feel free to kiss me like that any time you want.”
He lifted his head, brushed back some of the red silken tresses that had crept forward to tangle on her cheek. “I’m going to take you up on that.”
Lacing his fingers with hers, he stepped away, saw that her dad was studying them closely, his expression fierce, though it gentled when it shifted over to his daughter.
“Come on, Katie girl,” he murmured. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Those eyes, so like Kate’s, flicked to him, and instead of the rebuke Jaime had expected to see, Harry nodded at him approvingly.
Kate squeezed his hand, whispered, “Ready for more of my family?”
He nodded, having more fun than he’d had in ages. “Yeah, Red, bring it on.”
They followed Harry into the dining room, and he was hardly one step over the threshold when Ann said, “Jaime?”
He glanced her way, noted the mischief on her face, and braced himself.
And found out approximately half a second later that it had been the wisest course of action because her next question was, “What does Kate have to do to get you to buy her a real diamond?”
Ten
Kate
It had been the best night ever.
Jaime reached across her after she’d sat down in the passenger’s seat and buckled her seat belt. She didn’t protest the action, nor the kiss he brushed to her forehead, too exhausted after the workday, after the emotional conversation with Ann, after the dinner filled with laughing and teasing and so much love, after . . . spending the evening living a lie that didn’t actually feel like a lie.
She wanted it to be real.
So fucking much.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Kate nodded, forced a smile. “Just tired.”
Pale brown eyes holding hers. “Sure?”
She nodded again, heart thumping when he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. But then he was stepping back, hand going to the door. “Well, then, let’s get you home.”
“I—”
The door closed, cutting off her sentence.
Which was just as well because she was probably going to say something stupid like, “I don’t want to go home yet.”
But she needed to go home.
She needed to remind herself that Jaime wasn’t hers, not really. He wasn’t her man, the one whose gaze had connected with hers over Lacy’s head, the longing in his eyes no doubt matching hers. He wasn’t her man who’d charmed her mom and sister, who’d calmed the overprotectiveness of her brother and father.
He wasn’t even her man who’d fallen for her over a ketchup bottle.
But he was the man who’d thought to bring her a ring, who’d bought her lunch and looked at her with open desire, who laughed and smiled freely, who touched her gently and frequently, who buckled her seat belt and showed up at a restaurant after a long and complicated procedure because he was worried that she hadn’t gotten his message.