Janet James

“It was the bar today, he noted. That erotic little silver bar glinting in her navel. Her feet were bare, with toes painted an Easter-egg pink, thin and enormous silver hoops swung at her ears. And she held a rag that smelled strongly of lemon. “I’ve been cleaning,” she said quickly. “I just finished in the bedroom.” As if realizing she held her polishing rag, she stuffed it into her back pocket. “I needed to have some time around here before I went in today.” “Okay.” He stepped in, managed to take his eyes off her long enough to look around the living room. Every inch of wood gleamed, every piece of glass sparkled. “You’ve been busy.” “Cleaning gets my mind going, and I was thinking about the house. That maybe the house is part of it. And if I took the time, paid attention to it, to everything in it, things might—What is it?” Flushing a little under his unblinking stare, she rubbed at her cheek. “Is my face dirty?” “Your face is perfect. It’s the most perfect face I’ve ever seen.” “That’s nice to hear after I’ve been chasing dust bunnies.” “Simon in school?” “Yes.” Her eyes widened as she recognized the glint in his. “Well, for heaven’s—it’s almost ten in the morning. Don’t you have to work?” “I do.” He stepped forward as she backed up. “But I made a little time because I needed to talk to you. Looks like talk’s going to have to wait.” “We can’t just . . .” Could they? “I bet we can. Let’s try this.” He scooped her right up, and her stomach did a long, lovely roll as he started back toward her bedroom.”
― Nora Roberts, Key of Valor