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now I’ve kept you here for the better part of an hour.”
     
    He grinned, making a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Hey, I almost ran you over, remember? I owe you big time. Not that I mind being here, of course.”
     
    A glimmer shone in his eyes as he spoke. Was he thinking about the kiss now? Free of the anxiety that’d plagued her while she’d waited for him to finish reading her plan and deliver his verdict, Kelly was thinking about it more vividly than ever, her recollection tinged by the giddiness that had replaced her nervousness. He was staring back, watching her with something more than polite interest. An almost palpable tension sprung up between the two of them, prompting her to seek an excuse to get up from the couch.
     
    “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, jumping up from her seat as if the cushion were a red-hot stove burner.
     
    He watched her for a moment longer before replying, and she felt the weight of his gaze on her body like hands. Strong hands that knew exactly what they wanted. His hands. When he finally said ‘sure,’ she rushed to the kitchen, forgetting to ask him what he wanted to drink. Oh yeah, she’d bet her next paycheck he’d been thinking about the kiss. And maybe about another.
     
    She languished against the refrigerator for a few moments, waiting for her breathing to return to normal, not wanting her voice to sound breathy or strained when she called out with her belated question. Finally, she gave it her best shot. “I forgot to ask – what would you like to drink?” Her voice was reasonably steady. “I’ve got some lemonade I made yesterday.”
     
    “That sounds great,” he answered amiably from the living room, his deep voice echoing throughout her apartment. Her knees went slightly weak as she pulled the pitcher from the fridge.
     
    When she’d poured two glasses she lifted one of them and promptly pressed it against her forehead. Condensation had already formed in crystalline beads on its smooth surface, and it felt cool and refreshing against her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and savored the sensation, willing the fire to go out of her cheeks – and a few other less obvious places. She needed to cool down before she made an idiot of herself in front of Derek, who was affecting her like some sort of hunky kryptonite. Maybe it was the good mood his approval of her business plan had put her in, but repaying him with another kiss had begun to seem alarmingly like a reasonable idea. After a few moments of deep-breathing she hastily scrubbed the moisture from her forehead and returned to the living room, a tumbler full of homemade lemonade in each hand.
     
    “Thanks,” he said, accepting his. His fingertips brushed hers as she relinquished the glass and a tingly shiver raced down her spine. So much for cooling off.
     
    She carefully took a seat, putting a couple feet between their bodies as a buffer against the unruly urges that were assaulting her. Was it just her, or did he seem to be a lot more focused on her than the lemonade as he licked his lips? Her wondering was interrupted by the sudden realization that she was doing the same, and she withdrew her tongue hastily from the edge of her lip, all too aware that he’d noticed.
     
    Maybe small talk would ease the tension. “So, how long have you been running the Blue Mills Donut House?”
     
    “About five years,” he said dispassionately, his eyes locked firmly with hers, his lips split by the rim of his glass and slick with lemonade.
     
    “Oh.” It was all she could bring herself to say. His tone made it clear his mind was on something other than his donut business. Mainly her, she suspected, watching his eyes dip momentarily below her collarbones and the neckline of her T-shirt. She turned her glass in her hand, mulling over the tempting revelation as beads of condensation streamed down her fingers to dampen her wrist. Was he really this into her? He looked like he should be in