Adam put the last of the throw pillows back on the couch with a little more force than necessary. The television was off, the remnants of their indoor picnic had been gathered, and the immediate area tidied.

He was still reeling from that kiss, though it seemed woefully inadequate to describe what they had shared simply as a kiss. He had kissed women before. This had been different.

He could still taste her on his lips, still feel the way she had softened so readily for him. His thirty-two-year-old body felt eighteen again, hot and hard, and pumped up with primal urges. His heart raced, filled with promises, even as his mind warned him to slow the hell down.

From a fucking kiss.

He didn’t have to turn around to know that Holly had returned; he could sense her. His cock throbbed in welcome as she hovered in the archway separating the living space from the kitchen area, looking every bit as off-balance as he felt. It was that, the hint of vulnerability, that made up his mind for him.

“I should be going,” Adam said huskily. His eyes flicked over her, but he didn’t hold her gaze. If he allowed himself to look into her eyes and see the passion burning just below the surface, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions. He wanted her with a ferocity that shook him to his core.

Disappointment and confusion flashed in her eyes as Holly accepted the empty popcorn bowls he thrust into her hand. “Okay.”

“I had a great time.” The words fell so far short of the mark that he winced. It sounded more like an insincere platitude than the heartfelt sentiment it was. The evening had been perfect, exactly what he needed after a long day of busting his ass. Holly had been perfect.

How was it that he felt so comfortable, so at peace around her, when he hardly knew her? At least until he had started kissing her. Then the comfort and peace burned up like dry tinder in the sudden flames consuming him from the inside out.

“Me, too.”

Was that a reflexive response or a genuine one? It was hard to tell. Her voice gave nothing away, and she was looking down at the bowls in her hands instead of at him so he couldn’t see her expressive eyes.

“Thanks for having me.” Shit! That sounded even worse. Forget eighteen. He had regressed to the awkward banter of a twelve-year-old.

“My pleasure.”

She walked him to the door and opened it, keeping her body slightly behind it as if subconsciously putting a barrier between them. Unlike the other night, she made no move to follow him onto the porch.

Adam hesitated. Maybe leaving was a mistake. It wasn’t like him to panic like that. Maybe he just needed to take a breath and follow his instincts. She had been right there with him, he was sure of it.

Holly made the decision for him. “Drive safely.”

Nodding, he turned and walked to his truck. This time when he looked in the rearview mirror on his way out, he didn’t see her watching him go.

Well, shit.

* * *

HOLLY DIDN’T HEAR FROM Adam for the rest of the weekend. She tried not to read too much into that, but it was hard not to, especially after the kiss they had shared.

“Kiss” really didn’t describe it at all. It was like trying to call the Adirondacks a series of consecutive bumps in the landscape.

Maybe that had just been her. He might have not felt the same rush, the same all-encompassing tingles that had raced through her body demanding more. Hell, he might have felt just the opposite.

She didn’t think so, though. Right afterward, when she had looked into his eyes, she could have sworn she saw the same awe, the same surprise she had felt.

Although, it might be easier to believe that if he hadn’t practically left skid marks on his way out.

The gum-smacking hostess at Applebee’s was one they hadn’t seen before. Holly decided right off the bat she didn’t like the girl, especially when they were told Brandon’s section was full and they were seated on the other side of the restaurant.

“Whatever happened to the customer always being right?” Holly muttered.

Liz looked back, narrowing her eyes at the young, ebullient foursome of college-aged girls sitting at Liz and Holly’s usual table and shamelessly vying for Brandon’s attention. As a matter of fact, nearly all the tables in his section were occupied by young females.

She snorted. “Looks like we’ve been put out to pasture.”

“Whatever,” Holly said, feigning disinterest. She had been hoping maybe Brandon would say something about his uncle, but that wasn’t likely to happen now. “Next week, maybe we should change things up a little. We can hit up Chili’s or Olive Garden instead.”

“Works for me.” God bless Liz, she got it.

After waiting much longer than usual, they gave their selections to the plump, middle-aged server with the bad dye job.

Liz wasted no time swooping in for the scoop the moment the woman moved away. “So ... What’s up with you and the contractor?”

Because Liz was her best friend, and because Holly felt like she was going to implode if she didn’t talk to someone, she brought Liz up to speed. Maybe Liz could help her sort things through, because Holly wasn’t doing very well on her own. A best friend’s biased, semi-objective analysis was just what she needed.

“Back to back evenings, then nothing?” Liz asked, frowning. “What’s up with that?”

“You’re the one with real-life experience. I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Maybe he’s afraid things are moving too fast,” Liz said thoughtfully. “If you guys hit it off as well as you say you did, he’s probably pissing his pants right about now. He might just be giving it a few days, letting things settle until he can make sense of them.”

“Maybe,” Holly said doubtfully.

“Or ... maybe he’s waiting for you to make the next move. He asked you to coffee, you invited him over, then he called and asked you out. Could be your turn.”

It sounded reasonable enough when Liz put it that way, but Holly didn’t think so. It just didn’t feel right.

“You think?”

Liz shrugged. “Hard to say. Some guys love it when the woman makes a move, some guys hate it. What’s your read on him?”

“I don’t know.” Holly wasn’t sure that second time really counted as her asking him out, especially since they spent most of the night talking about renovating her cottage. Adam had been the one to suggest and provide dinner, so technically, he was the one who turned it into something more than a professional consult, not that she minded in the least.

“I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable calling him.” If he was having doubts, he might see it as pushy.

“Yeah. I got the impression he likes to be the one taking the lead.” Liz tapped her fingernails, now a dark blue with silver sparkles, against the table. “You said he has pick-up games at the Y, right? Why not come to my yoga class with me this week? You could accidentally run into him on purpose and see how he reacts.”

After briefly considering the idea, Holly nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Liz had been trying to get her to go for a while now. As much as she eschewed the idea of exercising in public, it would be worth it to see Adam again. She could use his reaction to seeing her as a kind of sign post, hopefully providing direction into the nebulous realm of what-the-heck-is-he-thinking. She could stop all of this non-productive obsessing and guessing, and move on from there.

“Great. We can hit Target”—Liz pronounced it tar-jhay—“after dinner tonight and pick up a mat and some flattering yoga pants for you.”

Holly frowned. “Why can’t I just wear my sweats?”

Liz rolled her eyes and gave Holly a suffering look. “Because we want him to notice your ass.”