“I really enjoyed your company tonight, Holly,” Adam said several hours later. They had eaten the Chinese food he had brought while talking over ideas and possibilities for a quality redo. Then she had made coffee, and they had shared some kind of lemony dessert that had melted in his mouth.

Like the other night at the coffee shop, time had flown by. It seemed like only minutes earlier when he had pulled into her driveway, filled with both anticipation and doubt. Now they stood on her front porch like two awkward teens.

He knew he had to leave, but he was stalling. Leaving was the very last thing he wanted to do.

“Me, too,” she said. “I mean, I enjoyed your company.” She gave him a self-conscious smile that damn near curled his toes.

“Can I see you again, Holly?”

She shifted her weight slightly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Adam might have been sitting on the sidelines for a while, but he had been part of the game long enough to know that she was wondering if he was going to try to kiss her goodnight. He was pretty sure she wanted him to, too. Almost as sure as the fact he wanted nothing more than to do just that ... and a whole lot more.

If she had been anyone else, he probably would have. He would have pulled her into his arms, kissed her until she couldn’t see straight, then coaxed her back into the house to take care of both of them. But, as much as he ached to do just that, he held back.

Holly was different, and this connection or whatever it was between them had the potential to be a lot more. He didn’t want to screw things up before he had a chance to find out.

“I’ll call you.”

“Sounds good.”

He reached down and petted Max. “Goodnight, Max. Take care of Holly. Keep her safe.”

Max looked up at him with those freaky devil eyes and woofed softly as if he had understood.

“Goodnight, Holly.”

“Goodnight, Adam.”

Turning around and walking away from her was one of the hardest things he had ever done.

When he got in his truck and drove away, he saw her watching him in the rearview mirror. She was still standing on the porch, one hand petting Max beside her. Light spilled over from inside, surrounding her in a glowing nimbus. All he could think about was how much she looked like an angel.

* * *

HOLLY WATCHED ADAM’S taillights fade from view. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her!

She closed the door and locked it behind her. What did that mean? He had looked like he wanted to kiss her. In fact, for a few minutes there, he looked like he wanted to toss her over the back of the sofa and have his wicked way with her, though that might have been purely wishful thinking on her part.

He hadn’t kissed her or tossed her over the sofa. He hadn’t done anything.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Had she sent out a bad vibe? Or was he just being a gentleman?

That was the trouble with being a writer—her imagination put in a lot of overtime. There were so many possibilities, and sometimes it was hard to distinguish between what her mind had conjured and what was real, especially when it came to trying to decipher a man’s signals.

If this night had been a scene from one of her books, Adam’s behavior could have meant several things.

Scenario A, and the most likely: After spending some time with her, Adam had decided anything between them was best kept in the “friend zone,” though she had sparked his professional interest.

Scenario B, and her favorite: He was very interested, but he was also the old-fashioned, gentlemanly type who wanted to court her properly. This scenario was particularly appealing because it suggested his interest went beyond the physical and had relationship potential.

Or Scenario C, and her least favorite: Not even the allure of this lovely cottage was enough to keep him around, so he had made his exit with polite grace.

There was one more, remote possibility: He was interested in her, but he didn’t think she was interested in him.

That wasn’t likely. She couldn’t imagine she had given him the wrong impression, not when she liked everything about him. That had to have come through. And he had been a complete gentleman all night—bringing dinner, listening politely, and saying thoughtful things. He had even helped clear and wash the dishes!

And he had said he wanted to see her again. Sure, a lot of guys said that without really meaning it, but Adam didn’t seem like the type to say he wanted to see her and ask if he could call if he didn’t want to and wasn’t going to.

How could she write successful romances yet suck at the real thing?

Holly changed into her pajamas, but heading off to bed wasn’t on the immediate agenda. She was too wired, too full of ideas.

Throughout the evening, she had been mentally translating his looks, his actions, and his words into scenes she could include in her stories. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced he really did want her.

His gentlemanly restraint forced her creative imagination to run wild with the possibilities.

Adam was not only hot, intelligent, and interesting, but he really was the perfect muse!