Rom-Com Collection (Part 2). Kristan Higgins

      He gave a little nod. “Good morning.”

      I nodded back. “Good morning.”

      “Would you like some coffee?”

      “Not right now, thanks,” I said.

      “Last night was incredible.” He swallowed. Didn’t smile.

      Well, he’d have to do more than echo me to gain back some ground, after all. Just because he had beautiful eyes and a rumbly voice didn’t mean I should just … melt. Though it was getting a little … melt-ish in here.

      “Callie,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t know … I’m not sure … I don’t know what … last night … meant to you, and I don’t—” His voice broke off in frustration, and he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not usually an impulsive person.”

      “You’re kidding,” I muttered.

      He didn’t smile, just looked at me. “I don’t believe in flings,” he said, his expression bordering on somber. “I don’t want just a fling.”

      My knees softened. My heart did, too. “Me, neither,” I whispered.

      He gave a half nod and squeezed my shoulders just a little. “Callie,” he said, looking down. He hesitated, then went on. “I know you were in love with your boss. At the hotel that night, it seemed … Well, if you still, uh … have feelings for him, I need you to tell me.” He raised his eyes back to mine, and it was like a shock, those eyes and what was in them.

      “I’m not,” I said in a half whisper. “That’s … that’s done.” And it was true. I wasn’t sure when it became finalized, but it was true nonetheless.

      “Are you sure?”

      I nodded. “It’s done.”

      He let out a breath. “Good.” His gaze dropped to my mouth.

      “So,” I said.

      He waited, but I said nothing more. “Well then,” he said after a few beats. “Do you want to … go steady?”

      I couldn’t help it. I laughed, then slipped my arms around his waist. “Yes, I’ll go steady with you, Ian,” I said, smiling broadly.

      “Good. That’s good.” Then he kissed me, softly, gently. “Callie, I’m sorry I’m so …” His voice trailed off.

      “Socially retarded?” I suggested.

      He gave a surprised laugh. “I was going to say nervous, but I guess yours works, too.”

      I pulled back to look at him more clearly. “I make you nervous?” I asked. For some reason, that pleased me beyond measure.

      “You make me terrified,” he answered, smiling a little. Oh, melt!

      “Make you anything else?” I whispered, standing on my tiptoes for a kiss.

      “Yes, now that you mention it,” he said, then he slid his arms around me, hoisted me up, and I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me back upstairs.

      Quite a while later, he finally rolled out of bed. “I’m going to be late for work,” he admitted as he reached for his clothes.

      “First time?” I asked, lounging ruttishly against the pillows.

      He grinned. “Yes, actually.”

      “Do you think the world will keep spinning?”

      He leaned down and kissed me, then pulled on his shirt. “I’m finding I don’t really care,” he said, and he gave me a smile that kept my heart warm for the rest of the day.

      WHEN I GOT TO WORK WELL past the appointed hour, Damien took one look at me and the box of doughnuts I was holding and said, “Well, well, well. Someone got laid last night.”

      “Hi,” I breathed. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

      “Who? Who is he?” Damien asked. “I command you to tell me.”

      “Want a doughnut?” I asked dreamily. “I got chocolate just for you.”

      “Hey, Callie,” Mark said, walking into the reception area. He glanced at his watch. “Everything okay? You’re not usually late.”

      “I’m fine,” I said.

      “She’s postcoital,” Damien said, raising an eyebrow.

      Mark’s head jerked back in surprise.

      “I’d better get to work,” I said. “I’ll skip lunch to make up the time, Mark.”

      “That’s not necessary, Callie, you put in more than enough—”

      I barely heard him as I floated down the hall to my office.

      Yep. I was in love.

      About time.

       CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      IAN AND I WERE A COUPLE. Sigh! Granted, my honey seemed to have just a splash of Asperger’s, but I generously forgave him, as he was an excellent kisser and had many other nice qualities. Besides, given how he’d grown up, bouncing all over the world, and after finding his wife in bed with a woman, Ian was allowed to have some quirks. On Saturday, I took him kayaking … Bowie sulked, but then, being half Husky, decided he couldn’t sustain it and went into Ian’s yard to sing to Angie, then tried to mount her.

      Under a leaden gray sky, we paddled out to a small island filled with pine trees and rocks and a few squirrels. I spread out a blanket and retrieved the bag I’d packed with two thermoses of coffee and some cookies.

      “How do you think those squirrels got out here?” Ian asked, watching them scurry on the rocks.

      “They have tiny boats,” I answered. “They make them here, on the island. Cottage industry.”

      “I take it you don’t know,” Ian said drily.

      “You are correct. Come, my dear boy,” I said, patting the blanket next to me. “It’s a soft day in autumn, we live in the most beautiful state in the union, and I baked chocolate chip cookies, just for you. Though I did have to leave a couple dozen for Noah. Let’s talk about you.”

      Ian winced, but obeyed. “What do you want to know?”

      “Well,” I said, taking a bite out of my cookie, which was, admittedly, excellent. “How’d you get this incredibly hot scar?” I reached up and traced it. “I’m thinking knife fight with a pirate. Am I right?”

      He laughed. “Shockingly, no.”

      “Well?”

      “I fell off a swing when I was six.”

      “Let’s run with the pirate story, shall we?” I grinned and leaned my head against his shoulder. “So tell me about your childhood and all the places you lived,” I suggested.

      Ian glanced at me. “Right. Um … well, I mentioned my mother and brother, right?”

      “Yep. Alejandro. That’s fun to say.”

      He nodded. “Actually, he’s not really my brother. He’s my cousin. And Jane is my aunt. My parents died in a small plane accident when I was eight.”

      “Oh, Ian,” I said, sobering instantly. “I’m so sorry! You poor thing!”

      “Well, it was … hard. But Jane took me in. I’d only met her once before, and Alejandro is nine years older than I am. Jane … she did her best, dealing with her brother’s kid while doing her work.”

      “Doctors Without Borders?”

      “Basically, yes. She’s a plastic surgeon. Fixes cleft