Imminent Affair. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      The sun shone through the windows, making Daniel aware of its yellow rays. Christmas was only two weeks away, but the Southern California weather didn’t seem to know the difference. Not that Daniel cared. The holidays didn’t make him cheerful. Why he felt like a bit of a Scrooge, he couldn’t say. But lots of people got depressed around Christmas, so he tried not to make too much of it.

      Although he was still sleep deprived, he showered, shaved, and donned a pair of freshly laundered jeans and a basic white T-shirt. Next, he headed to the kitchen where Allie was getting a jumpstart on breakfast. She’d already beaten him to the punch and brewed a pot of coffee, and now she was cracking eggs into a bowl.

      He stood in the doorway and watched her. She was wearing a big, fluffy pink robe and ugly slippers with mottled colors. He assumed that the pretty nightgown was underneath, but damn if he could tell. She was belted good and tight. He supposed that after last night’s encounter, she wasn’t taking any chances. But at least it was out in the open. At least they’d admitted that they were attracted to each other. Or sort of admitted it. Whatever the case, one thing was clear: they weren’t going to act on it.

      Maintaining a platonic relationship was best. Safer, he thought. Less complicated.

      “Morning,” he said by way of a greeting.

      She glanced up, and they stared at each other, trapped in remnants of the awkward stuff. He cursed the caveman feeling that being near her gave him. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her back to his bed, ugly robe and all.

      Finally, she gestured to the food on the counter. She’d diced onions and tomatoes to go along with the eggs. She’d grated cheddar cheese, too. “I hope you don’t mind that I raided your fridge.”

      “No, it’s fine. Help yourself. You’re a far better cook than I am.” But who wasn’t?

      “Do you want an omelet?”

      “I’d love one. Could you put ham in mine, though?” He wasn’t up for another meatless meal. The awful sandwich from yesterday hadn’t stuck to his ribs. He needed something with substance.

      She opened the refrigerator to get the ham, and Daniel walked past her to pour himself some coffee. He took a closer look at her slippers and noticed that they were cat faces, with pointed ears, plastic eyeballs, tiny pom-pom noses and long white whiskers.

      He couldn’t help but smile. They were even more ridiculous than he’d first assumed. He pointed to the fur balls in question. “Does Sam like those?”

      “She loves them.” Allie wiggled her feet. “So do I.”

      “It must be a girl thing.”

      “I suppose you think they’re atrocious.”

      “Yeah, but it’s okay. You can wear whatever you want.” Except pretty nightgowns while she was in his room. He made a show of looking around. “By the way, where is Sam?”

      “She was up earlier, but she went back to sleep.”

      In Allie’s soft, warm bed, no doubt. “I guess she’s not an insomniac.”

      “No. She’s a cozy sleeper. But cats are supposed to take catnaps.”

      Daniel’s omelet was done first. Somewhere in the midst of their conversation, Allie managed to fix hash browns, too. She handed him his food, and he stood near the sink and wolfed it down. He didn’t sit at the table because he didn’t want to make a domestic ritual out of sharing meals with her. It was bad enough that he’d brought her to his house for an extended stay.

      But what choice did he have? The vandal, the potential stalker, was all too real, and he intended to do whatever it took to keep Allie safe.

      Would he take another bullet for her? Yeah, he thought, he would. He would do just about anything for Allie Whirlwind. He wasn’t sure why; he just knew that he would.

      “You’re going to get heartburn.” She scolded him for eating so fast.

      “I’m fine.” To prove his point, he took a second helping of hashed browns.

      She shook her head and sat at the table, spreading a napkin on her lap. She would have looked quite proper if it weren’t for the horrendous robe and slippers.

      “I already called Rex,” he said. “He’ll be here in a few hours.”

      “I wonder where he’ll start.”

      “With my background, I suppose.”

      “Are you nervous about it?”

      “Why?” He scooped the last of his food onto his fork. “Do you think I have something to hide?”

      “No. I just can’t imagine being in your position.”

      “I can’t imagine being in yours, either.”

      “Getting my loft trashed or having the kind of ancestors that I do?”

      “Both.” He thought Allie was too sweet to hail from a lineage of evil witches, but that was her background, her burden to bear. He had no idea what his was going to be.

      He’d lied about not being nervous.