Not Quite Mine (Not Quite #2)(53)
Author: Catherine Bybee

Katie hadn’t thought of that. “I’m just a few streets away.”

Monica laughed as she pulled away. “A few streets, one freeway, and an entire airport away…but who’s drawing a map?”

Katie laughed.

Monica’s face grew stoic. “Call me if you need anything!”

“I will. You, too!”

“OK.” Monica leaned over and kissed Savannah. “Be good for your mommy. She’s the best.”

Katie lifted Savannah into her arms, picked up her tiny hand, and waved as Monica drove away.

Alone, she wandered about Dean’s home and moved a few of her clothes into his closet. He’d pushed aside some of his clothes as if picturing what it would look like with her clothes in his space.

She smiled at the thought and lined up some of her favorite heels on the floor of the closet next to his shoes.

Dean lived simply. A bachelor in every way. He’d moved to the area shortly after their breakup. Jack had told her it was because work in the area had taken off. She had her doubts. Texas was one of the only states in the union that wasn’t as hard hit by the recession depressing the country. California wasn’t as fortunate.

Pushing aside the thoughts as to why Dean had moved to a suburb of LA, Katie walked around his home and took note of her surroundings. There was a distinct lack of knickknacks and dust collectors. He had the occasional family photo, but for the most part the place felt like a house and not a home. Maybe together they could make it a home.

Katie stepped into the guest room across the hall from Dean’s master bedroom. She pictured a crib where she’d placed a playpen to aid in Savannah’s afternoon nap. The room would be close enough to hear Savannah in the middle of the night, but far enough away so she and Dean wouldn’t wake with every toss and turn Savannah managed during the night.

All the books Katie had read assured her that she was a typical new mom that jumped to help Savannah with every whine. According to the mommy bloggers, that wasn’t always a good thing. Maybe now with a little more space, Savannah would sleep better at night.

And so could she.

A mom could hope.

After putting Savannah down for a nap, Katie set out for the kitchen to take inventory and make shelf room for formula, baby food, plastic bottles, and bowls. Now that Savannah was eating a little solid food, she was growing even bigger. Everything about her was looking less like an infant, and more like a tiny girl.

When most of the unpacking was finished, Katie considered pulling out her spreadsheets and working on the tight budget she’d been given for the hotel, but then decided on a cool drink on the back porch. It had been a long time since she’d enjoyed a quiet veranda moment.

Curling her legs under her, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the warm breeze. It was unseasonably cool for Southern California in late summer. She could picture herself curling up under a blanket with a cup of hot chocolate in the fall.

It wasn’t long before her mind drifted to how this new living arrangement was going to work out. Her cooking was marginal at best. Dean obviously hadn’t starved as a single man, so maybe he had more hidden talents. They could order out. Hire a cook. But bringing in too many eyes of domestic help could backfire. Although Katie had dodged the media in the past year, they still knew of her. If they found her with a baby, she would make the tabloids and rumors would fly.

Low profile. That’s what she had to remember.

The hair on her neck prickled and she turned toward the open door leading into the house.

Dean leaned against the frame, a bouquet of white roses sitting limply in his hand. His eyes were soft, the smile he wore could only be described as dreamy.

“You’re home early,” she said softly.

Dean unceremoniously dropped the flowers on the table beside her and captured her face in his palms. His lips were warm and welcoming and edged on desperate. Dean brought her to her feet without words, kept her lips locked to his.

She knew how he felt. The enormity of them living together, of their growing feelings for the other…all of that played out as he kissed her. His tongue traveled into her mouth and traced hers. The prickling of her skin she’d experienced as he watched from the doorway started to tingle down her spine.

Her br**sts pushed against his chest and she held his waist tightly.

She was breathless when he stopped kissing her long enough to breathe.

“You’re really here.”

She kissed his chin and drew in his fresh pine scent. “We are.”

Dean traced the sides of her face with his thumbs. “Where’s Savannah?”

“Guest room. Napping.”

He lifted one eyebrow and said, “Good.” He tugged her into the house, closed the door, and moved them to the living room before he started kissing her all over again.

His intention was clear and she was more than willing to consummate their new arrangement.

The buttons of her silk shirt were undone, each one with a kiss and a press of Dean’s tongue against her skin. When only her baby blue lace bra covered her torso, she repeated Dean’s movements and removed his shirt with slow kisses.

The feel of his broad chest and tight abs played at the edges of her fingertips. How many nights had she thought of touching him again, of tasting him? She circled his ni**les with her tongue, and laid playful bites when they pebbled. Dean loved foreplay, almost as much as she did. He pressed against her as they stood next to the couch, his erection stiff within his jeans.

He stopped the nipple play by backing her down and covering her half-clothed body with his. “I want to make love to you in every room in this house,” he said against her ear.

“Sounds like a challenge.”

Dean kissed the portion of her breast not covered by her bra. “We know you like a challenge.”

She moaned as he blew hot air through the thin layer of cloth covering her breast. He chuckled quietly, circled his hand around her back, and unclasped her bra. He laved each nipple until they were tight with need and her hips bucked against his.

The couch cushioned one of her legs as Dean moved lower, his tongue dancing across her belly. The desire to tear into his clothes and have him naked and covering her clouded her brain. Equal parts of her wanted to feel him, all of him, deep inside her while her body craved the teasing kisses and scrapes of his teeth.

He wiggled her out of the linen slacks she wore. Her barely-there panties were moist already when he kissed around the straps holding the material together. “I love how you smell,” he told her, running his tongue around the edge of her panties. “How you taste.”