The Bachelor's Little Bonus. Gina Wilkins

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      He tried to think of something more to say, but small talk wasn’t his forte. Stevie usually carried their conversations, chattering away while he enjoyed listening and responding when prompted. Yet she never seemed bored by him, another trait that made her so special. Stevie would never yawn and check her watch during dinner with him.

      He winced as he remembered the recent blind date he’d been stupid enough to consent to after being nagged by a friend’s wife. He’d been just as disinterested during the evening, but he’d at least had the courtesy to not be so obvious about it. When he wanted to spend time with a woman, he had a few numbers he could call, a couple of women friends who wanted nothing more from him than a few hours of mutual pleasure. He didn’t make those calls often—and even less so during the past couple of months, for some reason.

      He didn’t know why his mind had drifted in that direction at the moment, though the thought of dinner gave him inspiration. “Have you eaten?” he asked Stevie. “I’ve been on a plane all afternoon and I’m hungry.”

      She hesitated, then smiled a bit more naturally. “No, actually, I haven’t had dinner. I might have even skipped lunch. I don’t remember.”

      The admission made him even more convinced that something was troubling her, but he figured she’d tell him when and if she was ready. Maybe over a hot meal.

      “I froze portions of that big pot of soup you made for me last week. It’ll take just a few minutes to thaw and heat a couple bowlfuls.”

      She smoothed her tousled hair with one hand and nodded. “Sounds good. Just let me wash up and I’ll help you.”

      “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

      Hastily stashing his bags to unpack later, he busied himself preparing the impromptu meal. Had he found the empty house he’d expected when he’d returned, he’d have nuked the soup and eaten in front of the TV with a beer straight from the can. But since he had company, he made more effort, setting the table with placemats and flatware, making sure the bowls weren’t scratched or chipped.

      For the most part, he’d learned to be content with his quiet life, so why was he so pleased by the prospect of sharing a simple bowl of soup with Stevie on a bleak, winter evening?

      * * *

      After splashing water on her face in Cole’s guest bathroom, Stevie pressed a hand to her still-flat stomach, drew a deep breath and assured herself she looked reasonably presentable considering she’d just been startled out of a sound sleep. She seemed to be sleepy a lot these days. She hadn’t even heard Cole enter the house.

      The thought of him standing there watching her sleep made her pulse flutter. She supposed it was embarrassment at being caught off guard in his living room. He didn’t seem to mind that she’d made herself at home while he was away, but then, she wouldn’t have expected anything different from laid-back Cole.

      In the year she’d known him, she’d never seen him rattled. She’d rarely observed any display of strong emotions from him, actually. He was the steadiest, most sensible person she knew, a calming presence in her sometimes hectic life. Maybe that was why she’d instinctively taken refuge in his living room when she’d been sad and stressed, though her cat-sitting duties had made a convenient excuse.

      She scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. Had Cole seen the tear stains on her cheeks? She thought maybe he had and felt the heat of embarrassment. Though she wasn’t usually shy about expressing her emotions—even tended to overshare at times—Stephanie “Stevie” McLane liked to think of herself as resilient, feisty and courageous. Not the type to hide in a friend’s house and sniffle into his cat’s soft fur. Still, Cole had merely searched her face with his dark, perceptive eyes, calmly asked if everything was okay, then offered her a hot meal. Somehow he’d seemed to know it was exactly what she’d needed, and not just because she was hungry.

      He glanced up with a smile when she joined him in the kitchen. His thick, wavy dark hair was a bit messy, but then it always was. A hint of evening stubble shadowed his firm jaw. His eyes were the color of rich, dark chocolate. She’d always thought those beautiful eyes gleamed with both kindness and intelligence. Broad-shouldered and solidly built, he was not what she would call classically handsome, nor did he have that somewhat ethereal artist quality she’d always been drawn to in the past. He didn’t talk a lot, and he wasn’t prone to sharing his feelings. Still, there was something about Cole that automatically evoked trust and confidence.

      She’d liked him from the day he’d moved into this house. There’d been a definite tug of feminine interest, but within her first hour of chatting with him—okay, interrogating him, as he’d humorously referred to that initial conversation—she’d found out he was a computer whiz, a widower and a country music fan who usually listened to news radio in his car. He was practically her total opposite, a stalwart Taurus to her capricious Gemini.

      She’d tried to convince herself since then that her latent fascination with him was due more to those intriguing differences than to an underlying attraction she couldn’t entirely deny. Despite being involved in an on-again, off-again relationship with a commitment-phobic musician for most of the time she’d known Cole, she’d have to have been brainless not to notice what a great guy he was. So different from her other male acquaintances, he was an enigma to her in many ways, but still they’d become friends. Maybe they could have become more than friends, had circumstances developed differently. She always enjoyed hanging out with him, and she missed him when he was away.

      She had missed his steady, solid presence even more than usual during the past few days.

      With old-fashioned courtesy, he held her chair for her as she took her seat at the table. “I don’t have much to offer by way of a beverage,” he said apologetically. “I can make coffee or there’s beer or I can open a bottle of wine...”

      “This is fine, thank you,” she said, motioning toward the water glass he’d already filled and set beside her steaming bowl.

      To quickly distract herself from her problems, she picked up her spoon and asked, “How was your trip?”

      Seated now across the table from her, he grimaced. “Let’s just say it’s a miracle I’m not spending tonight in jail rather than having a nice bowl of soup with you.”

      She smiled. “Annoying associates?”

      “To quote my late country grandpa, a couple of them were as dumb as a bag of rocks.”

      That made her laugh. She always loved it when Cole quoted his “country grandpa,” who had apparently been a treasury of old adages. “Knowing you, I’m sure you were completely polite and patient with them.”

      “I don’t know how patient I was, but I tried not to tell them what I really thought. They didn’t even try to pay attention half the time, then complained because they missed a few important points. It gets frustrating. Which is one of the main reasons I prefer telecommuting to pointless meetings and endless deliberations.”

      As a busy kitchen designer, Stevie knew all about frustrating collaborations. “Totally understand. There are plenty of times I want to dump a pitcher of ice water over a superpicky client or a lazy subcontractor.”

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