“That was fast,” she says.
“Sometimes I can be fast,” I say as I stalk toward her. I move into her space, slide a hand around her waist, and drag her against me. Who knew she’d be so warm, so easy to be with?
So addictive.
“And sometimes I can be slow.” I press my lips to hers for a deeper, more thorough kiss, and the small, sexy moan that catches in her throat makes me want to abandon dinner and go straight for dessert. But I want to hear about her day and what the realtor had to say.
The microwave beeps, and we break apart. “I can get that,” I say, and she steps out of the way. I remove my food and place it on the table. Kira heads to the kettle to make a cup of tea, and I dig in.
“Good, right?” she says as I practically shovel in the food.
I swallow and fork some more. “Delicious.”
“Tea?” she asks.
“Maybe later. I need water right now.” I make a move to stand, and she stops me.
“I can get it for you.”
I sit back down. As she reaches for a glass, I let my gaze slide to her ass. “I can get used to this.” On some insane level, I want her to tell me to go ahead, get used to it.
You’re playing house, dude. That’s all you want.
“You saved me, remember. Now I must serve you.”
“If you really want to serve me,” I say playfully, “leave the water. We can make better use of your time.”
“Board game? Cards? Video game?”
“Not even close.”
“Hide and seek?”
I waggle my eyebrows. “There might be something I’m interested in hiding.”
Cup of tea in hand, she laughs out loud and sits across from me. “One-track mind much?”
“When it comes to you, it seems that way.” I stretch out my neck, moving it from side to side. “How did you make out with the realtor today?”
She frowns. “I have a list.”
“Would fire alarms be on it?”
“No, why?”
I nod to the paper bag on the counter. “I picked some up on the way to work this morning. I’m going to install them tonight.” She blinks at me. “It’s not safe to be here without them, and you’re home all day.”
Her cheeks warm with color. “Nate…I don’t know what to say.”
That sweet gratitude for such a small gesture is thanks enough, and my world shifts a little off kilter. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’ll…get the list.” She disappears into her office and comes back with a sheet of paper, which she places in front of me. “Strip wallpaper, refinish floors, paint living room.”
“He wants all that done?” I ask.
“Apparently.” Her look is wistful as she glances around. “I can’t imagine taking down the wallpaper. It’s all Gram.”
“Then don’t. These are suggestions. You don’t have to do them.”
“I think I should paint the living room, though. Did you see how faded the yellow walls were after I gave Amber that painting?” She sits up a bit straighter. “Oh, that reminds me. Someone egged the house again. It wasn’t my room, so I’m guessing it’s not directed at me.”
“Shit. What time did it happen?”
“Around three.”
I fork a shrimp into my mouth. “Did you see anything?”
“No. After the realtor left, I was in my office. I was so lost in work—I actually didn’t even hear it. Jason told me when he got home, and he went and cleaned it up.”
“That’s good,” I say. I’m going to try to be home before three over the next few days. I’m not sure what time school gets out, but if I had to guess, it’s right around that time. The local kids are still messing with the signs, growing antsy with the cooler weather. Kira takes a sip of tea. I get that she doesn’t want to talk about work, but I want to know what she does in that den. “Do you mind if I ask what you’re studying for?”
“I’m not studying for anything,” she says.
“All the books, computers…and you said you were a student.”
“I’m a graduate student.”
She looks down. Okay, I’ve touched on a sensitive subject. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
“I don’t want to see you slip into a coma,” she says, and I laugh.
I take a drink of water and finish the last shrimp on my plate. “That bad?”
“Yeah, kinda,” she says and runs her finger around the perimeter of her teacup.
“I’m really interested, though. What keeps you in that office, so deep in thought you forget to eat and don’t hear eggs hit the house?”
“Do you really want to know?” Dark eyes search my face.
I suspect those who’ve asked in the past must have checked out once she started talking.
“Yeah, I’m curious,” I say.
“Fine, but you asked for this, and I’m not cleaning up your drool once you doze off.” She gestures toward my plate. “You might want to move that, or you could faceplant into your sauce and suffocate.”
I cock my head. “You mean you won’t revive me?”
“Not sure it will be possible.”
I push the plate away, even though I don’t believe she’ll bore me. “Done.”
She fiddles with her cup some more and says, “Okay, I’m a mathematician, and what I’m working on is a quantum verification problem. I’m trying to solve the basic question of quantum computation.” She pauses for a second. “Still with me?”
“Still with you,” I say, even though I have no idea what a quantum verification problem is. I hold my hands about six inches apart. “Just use shorter sentences, smaller words,” I tease, and I’m instantly rewarded with a wide smile and laugh.
“Okay, so it’s like this…”
I sit intently as she explains laws of quantum physics and the study of computers that derive their power from them, and while I don’t totally get all of it—or any of it, let’s be real here—I’m still fascinated by her passion, the way her eyes light up and her hands turn animated as she talks. She talks for a good twenty minutes, and I lean back in my chair, kick my legs out, and listen to every word.