Just Friends To . . . Just Married. Renee Roszel

      She set her sack next to his. “Badboy?” Hadn’t she used that exact description while thinking about him last night? She noticed the wayward curl that gave him such a roguish quality dangling over his forehead. “‘Badboy is very appropriate.”

      He’d begun to empty the groceries. When she made the remark he paused, glanced at her. “It is?”

      She laughed at his dubious tone. Clearly he’d never thought of himself as a bad boy. She reached up and ran a finger along the errant lock. “That’s the bad boy look I love, right there. Such a deliciously delinquent curl. It makes you seem so…” She stopped, thought about it. “So…” The word “sexy” almost slipped out but she caught it in time and searched for a substitute word.

      “So—what?”

      Feeling oddly restless she lowered her hand from his hair and looked away, busying herself with the groceries. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Like a mobster or something.”

      “A mobster?” He sounded doubtful. “A la Al Capone?”

      She couldn’t help smiling and glanced his way. “Well, maybe a mobster’s accountant.”

      He squinted at her, evidently not flattered by the comparison. Could she blame him? But she dared not admit that the misbehaving curl made him look like a sexy pirate. Such a remark would be blatant flirting, and—well, that’s not why she came to Jax.

      He raked his fingers through his hair. “If we’re through discussing my hair, why don’t you finish putting this stuff away while I change.”

      “Sure.” She avoided eye contact. “Take your time. Even better, let me fix the salads. You relax. You’ve had a long day.”

      “No, I said I’d help. I’ll be right down.”

      “Don’t be silly.”

      He stilled. She couldn’t help looking at him and experienced a tingle of pleasure at the sight. His attempt at erasing the mobster curl had failed. “I have a secret ingredient,” he said. “Therefore you can’t do it alone.”

      She cocked her head in playful challenge. “Oh, really?”

      He nodded, appearing serious. “Just grate the cheese. Is that understood, woman?”

      Clamping her lips together she fought a grin. When she could manage it without giggling, she said, “My, how masterful you’ve become.”

      He indicated the cheddar on the counter. “Just grate. I’ll be right back.”

      She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Don’t let that mobster accountant thing go to your head.”

      He turned away, headed toward the door. “You can’t un-ring a bell, sweetheart.” His voice mimicked the distinctive delivery of an old-time movie tough guy.

      “Heaven help me,” she said, laughing. “I’ve created a monster.”

      “No, a mobster’s accountant,” he corrected in the same tough-guy voice.

      After he disappeared from view, she took up the cheese package and began to open it, grinning to herself. Jax could be so cute. Strange. She had a perfectly awful day, accented by bouts of crying and feeling sorry for herself. Then Jax shows up, and—bam!—sunshine streams in to warm her cold, old soul.

      After dinner, Kim insisted they leave the dishes for her to do later. She took Jax by the hand, leading him into the living room to drink their coffee. When they reached the sofa she gently pushed him down, then took a seat, kicked off her sneakers and curled up on the far side. “Can we have a fire?” she asked, feeling better than she had all day. “I love the smell.”

      “Sure.” He grabbed a remote off the end table and pressed a button. Instantly fire flared in the hearth.

      “Oh—my—heavens!” She giggled, set her coffee on the end table and leaned over to run a hand along his biceps. “What a pioneer type you are. That must have been quite a strain.”

      He lay the remote aside. “The wood fairy didn’t carry in that wood, you know.”

      She smiled. “I’m kidding. Your place is awesome. Pushbutton fires, yet.” She lounged back, picked up her coffee, but continued to look at him. He’d changed into jeans and a soft, golden sweater that accented his torso nicely. Looking at Jax made her feel better, and she sighed. Then she had an amusing thought. “So your secret taco ingredient is taco seasoning, huh?”

      He peered her way. “Yep.”

      She laughed. “I hate to tell you, but your secret’s out.”

      He frowned, faking shock. “No.”

      She nodded, giving him a pitying look. “‘It’s true.”

      “Damn. There goes my shot at a show on the cooking channel.”

      She laughed, scanned his wayward bad boy lock of hair, his well toned chest, flat belly, solid thighs…” You work out, don’t you?” she said, surprised to hear the remark aloud.

      He sat his coffee on the sleek, espresso-brown coffee table. “I told you that last night.”

      How embarrassing. Not only because she had asked a second time, but because neither time had she meant to say anything out loud. She crossed her arms before her, pretending to be casual and conversational. “Oh? Must have slipped my mind,” she lied. “Well, it shows.” She winced inwardly. Had she lost the ability to think something without blurting it out?

      His brow crinkled, as though he wasn’t sure how to take the remark. “Thanks.”

      “Feel free to smile, Jax. I won’t tell.”

      That remark provoked a bona fide glower.

      She sat up, concerned, and scooted over to him. “What’s the matter? Have I done something to upset you?” She took his hand. “I know I’m a terrible disruption, and I was only thinking of myself when I burst in on you. All through dinner all I did was babble about Perry and my job. It’s been me, me, me, and you’ve been so good, listening and…” The sentence died as she had a distressing thought. “Heavens—it’s a woman, isn’t it?”

      “What?” She’d clearly caught him off guard with that question. He stared, looking cautious.

      “You have a girlfriend, and you think you have to neglect her while you baby me.” She grasped his hand with both of hers. “That’s it, isn’t it? Well, you don’t have to. I’d love to meet her,” she said. “I don’t want to screw up your social life. But that’s exactly what I’m doing. You want to be with her and you have to babysit me.” She felt terrible guilt. “I’m such a selfish—”

      “No,” he interrupted gruffly. “You’re not a selfish anything. And there’s no other woman I’d rather…” He paused, cleared his throat. “I have no one serious in my life at the moment, so don’t beat yourself up for no reason. You know me well enough to know if I didn’t want you around I’d…” He paused, looked as though he had a troubling thought.

      “You’d tell me?” she prompted.

      He glanced at his coffee cup, picked it up and took a gulp, then set it down heavily. “Yeah—right.” After a second, he returned his attention to her face.

      She showed her doubt by narrowing her eyes. “I don’t know that I do know that, Jax. I can’t remember you ever telling me to get lost as a kid. And I must have been an awful annoyance at times. A twelve-year-old kid tagging after a fifteen-year-old teenager.” She cuddled up to him, hugging his arm with both of hers. “You never, ever told me to get lost. How could I know you’d tell me to now?”

      “I never told you to get lost?”

      She smiled. “Never. I would remember because I’d have been crushed.”

      He shifted his gaze to