A Great Kisser. Donna Kauffman

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      “Lauren, dear, are you okay?”

      She realized she was balling up her napkin in her lap and carefully laid it on the table beside her water glass. “You know, with the flight and the storm and all, it’s been a really long day. It might just be the altitude change, but I think the day is catching up with me.”

      Her mother looked sincerely concerned, and suddenly Lauren was fighting tears in her eyes because she was sincerely concerned, too, and she wanted nothing more than for them to move forward and get to the heart of things. She wasn’t sure what moving down that path would entail, but they’d figure it out as they went along. She pushed her chair back and used the moment to will her tears to remain at bay. Her mother and Arlen both stood.

      “I’m glad you came out to meet us,” her mother said sincerely, but more cautiously now. As if she, too, was disappointed in how the evening had gone.

      Lauren wondered what her mother’s hopes had been for tonight. And what she was thinking and feeling now.

      “I had a few things planned,” she went on, “just casually, nothing written in stone, that I thought we could do together while you were here.”

      Lauren wanted to ask if “we” constituted only her and her mother, or all three of them, but it was beyond her at that point to figure out how to do so without seeming rude. “Okay. That sounds good. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

      Her mom came around the corner of the table to hug her, and Lauren knew it would be her only chance to speak just to her mother. When she was enveloped in a tight hug, she whispered into her mother’s ear. “I need to talk to you. Just you. Okay?”

      Her mother paused in the way she was squeezing her daughter, but in no other way indicated that Lauren had said anything to her. She finally straightened and stepped back, but slid her hands down until she could join them with Lauren’s. “We’ll talk tomorrow after you’ve had a good night’s rest.” She was smiling brightly—too brightly?—but didn’t say anything further.

      “Sounds good.” Lauren squeezed her mother’s hands, then let them go and turned to Arlen. “Thank you for dinner. It was very good.” She knew she should say it was a pleasure to meet him, but somehow the words just refused to come out.

      Thankfully, mercifully, Stephan came once again to her rescue, arriving with the tray of coffee.

      “I can find my way back,” she said, stepping to the curtain as he set the tray beside the table. “Please, enjoy your coffee. I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom. Or, better yet, call me when it’s best for you.” Which, she hoped her mother had figured out, would be whenever Arlen wasn’t within hearing distance.

      And, with that, while Stephan was dispensing mugs, creamer, and wielding the pot, Lauren fled.

      “Well. That was fun,” she muttered under her breath, after faking a smile at still-perky Kim and pushing through the doors into the chilly evening air. “Not.”

      “Not what?”

      She stifled a squeal, but still pressed a hand to her suddenly thumping heart as she turned around to find Jake standing right behind her.

      “Need a lift?”

      “I—haven’t you’ve rescued me enough for one day?” she said, mustering a half laugh from somewhere.

      He stepped closer until she could see his face more clearly in the light of the streetlamp positioned in front of the restaurant doors. Apparently, that allowed him to see her face more clearly, too, because he said, “I’m guessing it’s rare you ever really need rescuing, but you do seem a bit…flustered.”

      “What gave me away?”

      “Nothing, really. You just pushed through the doors like the hounds of hell were after you.” His lips curved. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have guessed a thing.”

      “What are you doing here?” She was smiling, but the words still came out a tad more edgy than intended, but she was kind of at the end of her emotional rope, and maybe there was some jet lag, and altitude lag, and just overall life lag, affecting her as well. She wanted to make a better impression on him, she really did, but it would help if he’d stop catching her at her worst. At least she didn’t have helmet hair or raccoon eyes and posttraumatic flight shock, but still.

      “I live here,” he said mildly, still friendly, if not quite as amused as before.

      “I mean, here, here.”

      “I…like to eat,” he said with a shrug. “Sometimes more than once a day. I haven’t had anything since we stopped for snacks earlier today in Kremmling.”

      She ducked her chin and blew out a breath. He didn’t have to work hard to catch her at her worst, because, apparently, that’s all she was offering today. “I’m sorry.” She looked up, forced a smile. “You’d never guess, but I can be quite charming when I put my mind to it.”

      “I thought you were quite charming in all your pink cycling gear this afternoon.”

      Her smile relaxed a little as her cheeks warmed a bit. He had a habit of doing that to her, too. And she’d thought seven years of working on the Hill would have put her beyond blushing. Apparently not. But then, she’d never had such a sincere sounding compliment, delivered in such a deep voice, by a guy who made her pulse pound just thinking about him. “Thank you. Then, please,” she bowed slightly, “remember me as I was.”

      He waited until she straightened, then looked her up and down, and suddenly her fatigue wasn’t quite as bone-deadening as it had been a mere moment ago.

      “You look pretty good in navy pinstripe, too, as it turns out.” He leaned closer and dropped that deep, sexy voice to a rough whisper, which…wow. “Although, I should tell you, I think they outlawed pinstripes in Cedar Springs right after the town charter was signed. Probably no one told you because, being related to the mayor and all, they didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

      She couldn’t help it; she laughed. Something she couldn’t have imagined feeling like doing when she’d exited those doors. “Well, I appreciate your being bold and daring enough to brave the potential wrath of your town leader.”

      “It’s not Arlen I’m afraid of.”

      “Oh?”

      “It’s your mother.”

      Surprised, she said, “My mother? Why?”

      “I’ve learned, never come between a mama and her cub.”

      “I’m hardly a cub.”

      He smiled and reached out to catch a strand of hair that had caught across her face in the evening breeze. He untangled it and smoothed it away, but his hand lingered. “Where mothers are concerned, you’re always the cub.”

      Her smile softened, as did a little spot inside her chest. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Tears threatened to spring forth again, and at the same time, she fought a sudden, ferocious need to yawn. Relaxing, even a little bit, had demolished whatever reserve of energy she’d had left. “Well, this cub apparently needs to head back to the den for some sleep.”

      “I’ll СКАЧАТЬ