They gorged themselves on spaghetti and pecan pie, then collapsed in front of the TV, the fire flickering merrily in the corner. Mackenzie yawned, barely paying attention to the movie playing on screen. How could she, when Jake was sprawled just a few inches away?

She watched him, lit by the screen. She must have gazed at his face a thousand times, but still, somehow, it always seemed brand new. The strong line of his jaw, the smile that lingered on the edge of his lips—

Mackenzie stopped herself, reality crashing down on her.

She was doing it again.

Falling into the same old crush that had pulled her under a decade ago. Pining after someone who had never felt the same.

Doing exactly what she swore she wouldn’t that very first night he’d arrived back in town.

“What’s up?” Jake nudged her with his knee, and she realized with a jolt that the movie was over.

Mackenzie stifled a sigh. “Just thinking about those pie leftovers,” she lied.

Jake groaned. “Seriously? I won’t eat for days.”

“Right.” Mackenzie smirked. “I bet you a hundred bucks you’ll be hunting in the fridge for a midnight snack.”

“No bet.” Jake gave her an irresistible grin. “Want to just pack me up a doggie bag instead?”

“Pack it yourself.” She kicked him playfully, her feet bare, and Jake caught them, pulling her legs into his lap.

Her breath caught.

“Purple?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her toenails.

Mackenzie wriggled them. “I couldn’t decide between pink and blue,” she said, fighting to sound casual, even though her heart was racing.

“I like them.” His hands lingered on her feet, warm, and Mackenzie could have sworn that his thumb gently stroked the bare arch of her foot.

She bit back a sigh.

It wasn’t fair, to be consumed with this desire, while the object of her affection was lounging there, totally oblivious.

“So, you and Moose, huh?” Jake’s lips quirked in a teasing grin.

Mackenzie fixed him with a look. “Ancient history.”

“Aww, I think you’d make a cute couple.”

“Not funny,” she warned him. “And you wouldn’t be joking if you lived here. I bet you a hundred bucks that Debra, and Franny, and your mom would be fixing you up with anything that moved.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Worse,” Mackenzie said lightly. “You’re looking at the spinster of Sweetbriar Cove.”

Jake frowned, and she realized she hadn’t mentioned her nickname for herself before. “It’s inevitable, don’t you think?” she said. “Give me a few cats and a muumuu, and I’ll be good to go.”

“You’ll find someone,” he said, with such quiet certainty in his voice that it made her chest ache.

“I haven’t yet.” She looked away.

“There hasn’t been anyone serious?” Jake asked, and Mackenzie bit back an empty laugh.

“Nope. I mean, I date. I’ve probably been on more first dates than anyone.” She gave a rueful smile. “You know what it’s like in town here, everyone’s got a nephew, or a college friend, or a stepsister’s aunt’s kid out of college. But . . .”

She paused, not ready to say the words that came after.

But despite all the hopeful introductions, nobody clicked.

But being on her own seemed better than half-hearted hookups.

But none of them were you.

“Well, it never worked out,” she said instead. Mackenzie gave a half-shrug. “Guess I’m not everyone’s flavor.”

“Their loss,” Jake said with conviction, and she felt a pang. It was his loss, but he didn’t see it that way. He never had.

Mackenzie shook her head. “What about you?” she asked, changing the subject. “Any football fans waiting for you back home?”

She realized too late that she didn’t want to know the answer, so it was a relief when Jake chuckled and shook his head. “No, not for me. I mean, I’ve dated some, but . . .”

He trailed off with a shrug. Mackenzie suspected that “some” was plenty, but she didn’t ask any more. She could already imagine the hordes of adoring women waiting in line for his charms—she’d caught the previews in high school, and that had been enough.

“You seem to have figured it out now.” Jake looked around. “The gallery, your art, you’ve really built a life here.”

He gave her an admiring look, and Mackenzie flushed. “I guess I realized I was never going to fit into someone else’s schedule. You know, 9–5 job, following orders—”

“You think?” Jake laughed, and she lightly kicked him again.

“It was touch and go for a while, trying to make ends meet when I first opened the gallery,” she admitted. “And I had to take a crash course in running my own business. I made such a mess of my books, Ellie Lucas had to come straighten them out,” she said, naming the girl whose family ran the inn, just outside of town. “But at least this way I make my own rules. If I want to close the store and spend all day up to my elbows in clay, I can. I just have to make sure I have enough orders to see me through,” she added.

“But things are going good now, right?” Jake asked.

She nodded. “I have a steady list of vendors, and the website works too. Plus, there are always tourists around. I make out like a bandit over summer with my nautical collections, and the red, white, and blue pottery. Still . . .” She paused, and Jake arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“Sometimes it feels like I’m playing it safe,” she admitted out loud for the first time. “Don’t get me wrong, I love making things that people enjoy, and the steady paycheck is great, but . . . I used to want to make great art. You know, something that makes you stop and really feel,” she said ruefully, thinking of the sculptures hidden in the corner of her studio that would never see the light of day. “My polka-dot sugar bowls are cute, but they don’t exactly shake you to your soul.”

“Those would have to be some sugar bowls,” Jake agreed.

Mackenzie looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Anyway, it’s nothing. You’re right. I’ve got a good thing going.”

“Good can always be better,” Jake said easily. “Maybe you can find a way to do both. Find some of that soul-shaking magic.”

Their eyes caught again, and Mackenzie knew she didn’t have to go looking for any magic. It was sitting right there in front of her.

Out of reach.

“Maybe,” she agreed quickly. The fire had burned low, and she made to get up, but Jake beat her to it.

“Let me.”

She watched him place another couple of logs in the hearth, and nudge the embers into a shimmer of sparks, blazing high again.

She knew how they felt. A touch or two from Jake, and feelings she’d almost forgotten were possible came roaring back to life.

Desire, snaking low in her belly. Building in her bloodstream, a taste of something sweet and dangerously intoxicating.

Jake detoured to the kitchen. “You win,” he said, emerging with the pie plate leftovers. “You know me too well,” he added, flashing her a grin as he scooped her legs into his lap and settled back on the couch beside her.

Not well enough.

Mackenzie sucked in a breath and tried to gather her heated thoughts. Was it just her, or was he sitting closer now, his thighs pressed against hers, and his broad frame sprawled near enough for her to feel the heat, radiating stronger than that fire?

Her pulse kicked up a level, the steady drumbeat skittering, but Jake didn’t seem to notice the shift. He had a fork in his hand and was happily digging into the pie.

“Where’s mine?” Mackenzie asked, fighting to stay cool.

“Right here.” Jake’s lips curled in a tempting smile. He loaded the fork with pie then held it out to her.

She leaned in, and took the bite, her eyes never leaving his.

Oh.

Even he couldn’t have missed the heat that surged between them. Mackenzie forced herself to swallow, licking a crumb from her lips.

Jake’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and she could have sworn she saw something hungry there, that same need that had drawn her to him that Halloween night in the gazebo.

The same need that was spiraling through her now, making her blood run hot and one tantalizing thought echo, louder with every heartbeat.

She could kiss him, right there.

Mackenzie froze. With a pounding heart, she dragged her stare away.

What was she thinking?

Suddenly, the room was stiflingly hot—or maybe that was just her body, prickling with awareness and painfully attuned to every shift of Jake’s body, every breath. Their casual, friendly dinner had taken an intimate turn, and now—in the flickering firelight, with him so close—it was hard to remember why she was keeping her distance.

Because he doesn’t feel the same way about you.

Except, was that really true? He was the one tracing semi-circles on her bare foot, his other hand resting gently on her knee. He was the one giving a sleepy smile, and snuggling deeper into the cushions.

He was the one looking at her like she was the only woman in the world

Mackenzie’s blood thundered in her ears. She felt a giddy lurch in her stomach, that clench of exhilaration that always signaled a very, very bad idea.

“More?” Jake asked with a lazy smile. He held out a forkful of the pie again, and Mackenzie’s heart flipped over.

“Please.”

Before she could take it back, Mackenzie leaned in. This time, she bypassed the fork, and brushed her lips against his mouth instead.

Jake startled, drawing a breath that she felt all the way through her. He froze, suspended there on the edge of her kiss, and for one terrible moment, humiliation loomed. Then, with a groan, he pulled her closer.

It was hot and sweet, and somehow, more right than any kiss had been before; Jake’s mouth pressed against her urgently, easing her lips apart before his tongue slid deep to taste her.

Mackenzie sighed in pleasure. She didn’t know what happened to the pie plate, or their wine glasses, all that mattered was Jake tugging her into his lap, her arms fast around his neck, her body crushed against his.

God, it was heaven.

She bent her head, letting the curtain of her hair fall around them, blocking out the world. She kissed him, savoring every moment; the sweetness of the pecans, and that masculine taste that was pure Jake.

The heat grew, lazy at first, but smoldering, liquid fire trickling through her veins until her whole body was ablaze. His grip on her grew tighter, and the kiss deepened, passionate and raw. She could have lost herself in it, let the whole world burn down around them, as long as he didn’t stop. Mouths, and hands, and low, ragged gasps; she was closer than she’d ever been, and she couldn’t get enough—

Jake pulled back. “Wait,” he said, his breath coming heavy. “We shouldn’t . . .”

He lifted her aside and practically fell off the couch in his hurry to put distance between them.

No!

Mackenzie fought for breath. Her pulse was still racing, her body on fire. That was the hottest, most epic kiss in the history of the world, and Jake was . . . stopping?

“I should go,” he said, pushing his hair back. He was avoiding even looking at her, already grabbing his jacket and backing towards the door. “I, uh, Happy Thanksgiving.”

The door was slamming shut behind him before Mackenzie could even say a word.

She turned and buried her face in a cushion, and let out a frustrated scream.

Why was he pushing her away? One minute he was the one kissing her like it was all he wanted in the world, the next, she couldn’t see him for dust.

But who in their right mind would walk away from a kiss like that?

Mackenzie sank back and groaned. She couldn’t deny it, no matter how hard she tried.

She wanted him.

It had always been Jake, but things were different now. Maybe she should take the slamming door as a hint, but she’d made herself a promise, and she was going to stand by it. She wasn’t going to swallow back her feelings and let them turn to misery, pine after him like she had done when she was seventeen and too scared to take a leap. Whatever the risk of going after what she wanted, it couldn’t be worse than keeping it all bottled up inside and bending over backwards to hide the truth, boxing her feelings into tiny spaces until they turned to dust.

She was going to do this. Make her move.

The question was . . . how?